It has been quite awhile since we’ve posted something new, the results of being stretched too thin and getting burned out. Susanne and I both pulled back on our activities to seek more balance in our life. Lately, though, I’ve been feeling the urge to write and share more thoughts and discoveries about dancing.
Tonight, I went to a local blues dance, the first one I’ve been to in about a year or so. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it. Some good music, a decent crowd, good atmosphere for the night. I had a few good dances, and met some of the new people that I’ve never seen since I’ve been MIA. As I drove home, a sense of peace came over me, and I thought about the following:
This past year, I’ve taken up running as a way to get myself into shape and to help regulate my emotional well-being. In addition, there’s something about the repetitive nature of the activity that causes me to stay focused, to clear my mind, and to deal with all those nagging thoughts that I so often ignore. On my longer runs, time starts to blur into passing bricks and buildings as those pesky thoughts fade and my focus improves. Running exposes me to the vastness of time, and my relative insignificance in all of it.
But dancing is a different kind of magic. A dance is three minutes, maybe five. Concentrated goodness. A short burst of time to express something incredibly fleeting. Each dance is a shared experience of expression that connects me to something more than I am by myself, the threads of the music, of my partner, the other dancers in the room, the history to which these dancers are all connected, and the future we are building together.
While running processes my thoughts, dancing processes my emotions. While running confronts me with my insignificance, dancing connects me with my humanity. And so, with these words, the silence is ended. Its time to put myself back out into the world.