A gust of cold Canadian wind breathes across my skin as I step barefoot onto the bitter frost-kissed earth. It's an ungodly hour of the morning, but with my beloved silks slung over one shoulder, I make my way to the ancient cedar that has long served as my stage. My heart, cocooned in fifty-two years of life, beats rhythmically, whispering a melody that thrums in time with the anticipation coursing through my veins. The core of aerial dancing, for me, is a blend of pleasure and confidence carved out of the raw edges of my reality. It's a space where I've found myself, lost myself, and reconstructed myself numerous times. I've tangled myself in silk and self-doubt, but with every fall, every bruise, I've discovered reserves of resilience within me. I've traced the constellations with my toes, soared between the woody branches, spun around while the world stood still, and there’s something untamed and unapologetically wild about that pleasure. It’s a pleasure less about the physical, although the adrenaline rush of being suspended mid-air is like no other, but more about a mental release. It’s intimate, personal, a flirtation with freedom, an inexplicable connection between me and the air that enfolds me. I’ve laughed in the face of gravity time and time again, and each time, found confidence anew, like an old friend meeting me in unexpected places. Aerial dancing may be quite popular today, a magnet for thrill-seekers and spiritual junkies drawn to its unique blend of physical exertion and emotional liberation. But when I began my journey three decades ago, it hardly garnered the same attention or acclaim. I’ve seen it evolve from an obscure fascination to a mainstream sensation. And while it pleases me to see so many youngsters gravitate towards it, it’s impossible not to hanker after those golden days when it felt like a personal secret between me and the universe. Each day, as I climb the silks to reach my cedar-strewn stage, the wooden cathedrals of Canada echoing the whispers of the wind, I am reminded of the years gone by and the spirit of aerial dancing that first drew me in. For me, at the age of fifty-two, aerial dancing is more than just a form of creative expression. It is my defiance against the constraints society has tried to cage me in, my celebration of my non-binary identity, and my expression of my delicious freedom. Every death-defying twirl, every heart-stopping drop, is a reminder of who I am and who I have been. The journey has been equally harrowing as it has been exhilarating, but when I glide through the air and the world fades to a blur, it’s like I’ve captured eternity, if only for a few breathless moments. So, to everyone seeking pleasure and confidence, I urge you: find your own dance, your own silks. Unspool them. Unleash them. And in the process, you just might discover, like I did, a little piece of yourself you never knew existed.