Dan didn’t like the question “When did you wake up?” It made no sense to him because he had always been this way. He never had a moment where everything became clear. No, it was more like he came out of the womb with an internal GPS pointing straight to truth. His identity? Awareness. Life? A reflection of his thoughts. That was simple logic to him. And so, he spent his days dancing with the universe—literally. Yoga? Check. Dance? Check. Traveling to new countries, engaging in new activities? Check. Deeply philosophical debates with his cat? Double check.
Dan was a man who could turn any hobby into a business and every business into a hobby. He had the perfect house by the ocean, with a garden so lush that local birds requested to take selfies in it.
But one area of life kept throwing him off: relationships. They were supposed to be another playground, a space to practice the beauty of love. Instead, they felt like a cluttered kitchen drawer—misfit cutlery, tangled string kept ‘just in case.’ No matter how he tried, he couldn’t make them work.
Enter the dancer. She waltzed into his life like the star of a rom-com, lighting up everything in sight. They moved together as if the universe itself had choreographed every step. They laughed, they shared meals, they even had a podcast where he engaged in deep conversations with spiritual beings through her body as the channel. For the first time, Dan felt he had found someone who got him. Someone who could keep up with his rhythm without tripping over his deep spiritual musings. For once, Dan felt seen, understood. They even got a pet hamster, which tragically passed away after a week, but it was a fun week.
For the first time, he thought, this is it—the perfect connection.
And then, she left.
For another dance partner, someone more focused on performance than on love.
Dan couldn’t pretend. If something felt off, his body would just not move. He first had to nurture the connection, and then the movements could follow.
The dancer? She was focused on the dance—on perfecting every move. For her, a partner was more a means to showcase her art than someone to truly connect with.
Dan’s reaction? Well, he did what any enlightened being would do—he looked into his reflection and said, Okay, everything happens for a reason, and there is something to learn from everything. How can I improve myself?
He was done being hurt by seeing his ex dancing with her new partner, treating him like she had treated himself, so he decided to find a new community. He threw himself into a new style of dance in a new studio. He quickly made a few new friends, and he started competing with one of them. It felt like a fresh start, a chance to create something better.
But with every move, the emptiness grew. No matter how good his technique got, the feeling was hollow. To top it off, the universe had a little joke for him.
His ex, and her new partner, started working at the new studio. There she was, not missing a beat, now in his world again. But this time, it was even clearer: She didn’t care about him. She really didn’t care about his emotions. Career was everything to her. Once more, he felt like everything that was innocent was being stepped on, disregarded as unimportant, and tossed away.
There needs to be something more to this experience. Life must be trying to tell me something…
Maybe I’m not meant to be a dancer. At least not professionally.
So, what next? Well, Dan wasn’t one to sit idly. He tried tantra, the art of connection, and on the first try, he found a partner he was attracted to. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could find fulfillment in this new relationship. But no. The tantra goddess was all about freedom and exploring with others. And while that sounded liberating to some, Dan knew it wasn’t for him. He didn’t want a partner who couldn’t commit to just one person. He longed for deep connection, not scattered attachments.
He gave up and turned towards meditation. He’d meditated a lot before, but this time, he added a new ingredient: gentleness. All that trying didn’t work out for him anyway, so he just gave space. He allowed himself to soften. And in that simple openness, ease began to flow where it had never been before.
Then, in a moment of pure inspiration, he had an idea—silent disco in the forest. He gathered a few friends, who brought along friends of friends. Together they danced, under the canopy of trees. Each person to their own song, yet somehow the rhythms blended, like the perfect chaos. No expectations. No perfect partner. Just the freedom to dance without worrying about anyone judging. He danced as though no one was watching, because—honestly—it didn’t matter. It was the purest form of presence he’d felt in years.
That evening, as he sat resting on a stone, sipping coconut water (because, of course), he met a woman. She was everything he had cultivated in himself: a gentle soul with a touch that made him feel instantly at ease. She had a laugh that was warm and genuine, and eyes that seemed to see right through him in the most comforting way. There were no dramatic sparks, no earth-shattering chemistry—just an effortless, quiet connection.
For the first time, he wasn’t trying. He wasn’t strategizing or adjusting himself to fit. He was just there, and she was there too.
And in that moment, Dan saw a reflection that he liked.
As for the dancer? Well, she was probably busy spinning her new partner into the perfect dance of intense confusion. But Dan didn’t care anymore. He had discovered gentleness—and a partner who could meet him where he was.
And after months of distracted daydreaming, and an internal debate about whether to move abroad or not, Dan finally managed to finish something.
It wasn’t a grand project or a perfectly curated Instagram feed, but for once, he’d stopped overthinking. He finished this.
And that was enough.
The end. Or rather, the next beginning.
