I was a dance major in college long before I took a print journalism or literature course. Just as I was in a community dance class long before I ventured to write my first prose. Dance, you could say, was my first mode of expression. And still, when I am overwhelmed by some particular emotion, I find myself torn between a good ink pen and a secluded wood floor. When I am really heavy hearted, I opt to simply write out choreography- seems to be a happy marriage of the two. In church this morning, I found myself envisioning dance to the scripture reading. And this evening, during the Ronald K. Brown dance performance at the Ordway, I felt like scripture had never been so gracefully spoken then by an angulation, arabesque and barrel turn. Sometimes, there really are no words.