Hermes Dancing

This morning as the Mercury hour of the Merury day rolled around, I tuned my awareness to our favorite Uncle Hermes to salute him with an improv hymn followed by a more formal conjuration and an Orphic Hymn. I got as far as looing up towards his sphere and saying, "Hail to thee, oh Hermes..." when I saw him dancing.

Like this:

See that grin? He's having fun, yo. This pic doesn't show it, but he's strumming a lyre with one set of hands, conducting the elements with another pair, revealing and writing, and laughing, and dancing. Dude's a happy guy.

My life is a lot more fluid and flexible these days than it has been ... uh, well, ever. It's less a choreographed symphonic production with a start, middle, and end than it is an ongoing wave. It flows in harmony with my desires, ambitions, and passions. It feeds them and grows from them. 

I saw it in a dream, it was epic. It ran parallel to the beach, and everyone else there was waiting for the ripples of its passage to ride in to shore on their little surf boards and boogie boards. They were safe there. But I paddled out hard to catch it full, and it took me up and carried me, and I found myself dancing to its tune as I woke, still tasting the salt air, glowing with the thrill of riding that wave.

This morning, Hermes showed up dancing, and smiling, and looking me straight in the eye, sharing the joke, sharing the joy and mirth with that thrilled expression, the cosmic, "I know, right!?" I looked back at myself and saw that yeah, I'm like that too. Hermes dancing, flowing, moving from one state to another, connecting, touching, interacting, plugging in. Never stopping, never losing step, always moving in time to the rhythm.

Hermes, draw near, and to my pray'r incline, angel of Jove [Zeus], and Maia's son divine;
Studious of contests, ruler of mankind, with heart almighty, and a prudent mind.
Celestial messenger, of various skill, whose pow'rful arts could watchful Argus kill:
With winged feet, 'tis thine thro' air to course, O friend of man, and prophet of discourse:
Great life-supporter, to rejoice is thine, in arts gymnastic, and in fraud divine:
With pow'r endu'd all language to explain, of care the loos'ner, and the source of gain.
Whose hand contains of blameless peace the rod, Corucian, blessed, profitable God;
Of various speech, whose aid in works we find, and in necessities to mortals kind:
Dire weapon of the tongue, which men revere, be present, Hermes, and thy suppliant hear;
Assist my works, conclude my life with peace, give graceful speech, and me memory's increase.