Why is it, do you think, that non-serious illnesses are the most annoying things of all? Is it because they are non-serious so you couldn’t possibly feel as miserable as you do? Is it because it shows us how weak we are, downed by a simple, not-yet-life thing like a virus? Anyway, feeling rotten so I am in need of something cheerful to take my mind away from streaming eyes and nose and glutes that are aching from so much sitting or lying down.
So let’s talk about dance. Don’t ask where the word comes from, no one seems to know 🙂 The last link is France, do you think dance would have just risen out of the Mediterranean fully formed? But the act of dance itself is very old. People have recorded it on stone 9000 years ago, but there’s nothing to indicate that dance isn’t even older than that.
I was born to dance, the same way I was born to fly, love and help. It doesn’t mean I do any of those things well or alone or even at all :). But whenever I do any of them, the same feeling of normality creeps up on me: I am doing what I am supposed to do. Nothing fancy, earth-shattering or social. Just me, doing what I am supposed to do. The life in me feels heightened, as it should when I am on the right path.
Why then do I not do this more often? Why wait for so long between dances?
Part of the answer lies in my preference for couple dancing. Ballroom, Latino, combinations thereof (except Ceroc), slow swaying to the rhythm of a rock ballad… one needs a partner for those, and that leads me to another part of the answer: to my shame, I lead 🙂
My dance partner has to be strong, confident and skilled. I have a good memory and I love to dance, so I can sweep around the dancefloor without nary a thought to the fact that I should follow my partner. That doesn’t go down well unless said partner has the above qualities. And how many strong, confident, skilled dancers would have the patience to dance with a rank beginner?
I also teach reasonably well so sometimes I ended up increasing the confidence of other girls… which meant that I almost forgot the woman’s steps… which meant that I was not dancing per se… so I stopped.
Excuses, excuses… 🙂
If there is one genre I love it would have to be Latino, with salsa and rumba first among equals. I can spot skill a mile away and grieve when the song is over. I don’t care if my legs hurt or my hips ache or my feet feel on fire. If I could have it my way I would single-handedly open up the dance halls of our grandmothers, mothers, and even myself in another country, in another life. So that going out doesn’t mean having a drink staring across the bar or trying to make myself heard above music that is always too loud. So that going out means that I can be a wall flower and watch beautiful dancing, then quit being a wall flower (never liked that role much 😛 ), grab a group of like-minded people and start living… I mean dancing.. oh, whatever! 🙂