A Polarizing Place
That's neither positive or negative
When observing dancefloors from afar, have you ever noticed how the majority of folks tend to cluster together? Friends and strangers alike, magnetically moving en masse- regardless of how much room there is to romp. To each their own, as always. But as a person eternally seeking space to dance at soirees, I vastly appreciate this distinction because of the freedom it grants to those who frolic on the frays.
The ways our physicality and social interactivity occupy dancefloors varies wildly. But it really boils down to two types of twirlers to tango. Though seemingly polar opposites, they’re a yin and yang working in concert, bringing balance to the party.
People for whom it seems claustrophobia is no hindrance on dancefloors are truly birds of a feather who flock together. They galavant, seemingly unbothered all the while smooshed like sardines, moving like schools of fish to the waves of rhythm. Squinting, they can appear as one organism whose circulatory flows in unison- giving Gaia-esque. Maybe it’s the pheromones wafting through the air that govern their laws of attraction. Or perhaps some folks find comfort in limiting how far they can extend their limbs. I dunno the whys, but it really doesn’t matter because it’s whatever floats their boats.
Conversely, there are those dancers who prefer prancing on the periphery (ahhem me). Those for whom proximity is best from an arms length. Or two or three. For folks such as these, the mere thought of sauntering to the center of a jam packed dancefloor, stokes anxiety and spikes blood pressure (ahhem….me once again). Perhaps they edge themselves out because their expansive dance moves really do reach that far and wide. Or maybe they just mostly prance in place. Irrespective of the way they move, their commonality is that room to breathe and be free is a necessity.
These neighbors of diametrically opposite kinds unknowingly create the natural habitats of each other's hearts desires. Space and grace for each other depends on one another. And therefore those who are distinctly different just might be more similar than one thinks.
If it seems like I’m waxing poetically and pondering, that’s because I am. Our differences are infinite but our commonalities have potential to weave together the fabric of what a community can be. We don’t need to understand how or why we prefer our ways of dancing to value the importance of one another. Because we’re the symbiosis of each other's existence.