Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • There is nothing like the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you discover someone you trusted is profoundly unworthy of it. You survey the wreckage of your dreams and do a quick body count: over 2-1/2 years of unpaid labor and tens of thousands of dollars from your retirement account gone. Your credibility is shot. You no longer feel any more zest for a career that has lasted over 40 years and taken you around the globe and into the heart of the world’s joy and pain. There’s a distinct taste of ashes in your mouth that won't go away.

    You ponder your next moves. You want to build a veritable Wailing Wall in your backyard to mourn or rage, but instead all you can think about is the closing scene of Zorba the Greek. Alan Bates and Anthony Quinn stand on a sandy shore, the debris of their rickety timber transport system strewn across the beach. All that time and effort for naught, the future cruelly snatched away. But what they do next is transforming. They don’t weep, they don’t shake their fists at the heavens and they don’t look for someone else to blame. They dance -- a wild, uninhibited dance from the very depths of their souls, a dance that leaves them and the viewer breathless and exhilarated.

    So you pick yourself up and dust yourself off. And though you’re reluctant at first and then you’re not, you dance for everything that is holy in your life. You dance.



    Image source: Still from Zorba the Greek.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.