Dancing My Dismay Away
What was forgotten is not lost.
I hit my dancing rock bottom. A slip up previously inconceivable- not for one smidgen of a second or an iota of an instance. This unforeseen sedentary reality made its presence known with a proverbial bitch slap so profound that I can still feel the ricochets and reverberations weeks later.
And no, I'm not being dramatic, if that's what you're thinking.
The night started out innocuously enough- nothing seemed new. Just me once again mesmerized by melodies, entranced by deep groves and moving in synchronicity. I at once felt in perfect harmony, with myself. An almost telepathic transference which provides a sustenance unlike anything else.
Out of nowhere, a thought stuck me and I skidded to a standstill- dumbstruck by what had previously been unimaginable. Prancing unencumbered is my modus operandi. So why did it feel like a distant memory?! I racked my brain…and had nada notion as to when my last dancing dalliance might have been. And that’s because it had been forever. At least it felt like it. I was suddenly a shadow of my former self.
If you’ve ever approached me in the midst of my ballet-esque bliss, then you’ve likely been met by me blurting out “I’m dancing,” cutting sharply through the air as I whisk away awash in my own wonderland. If you’ve been met by my curt candor or are in the future, please do know I’m really, really not trying to be rude. It’s just that it’s impossible for me to stop my fancy footwork amidst cunt beats. A rare and little known “condition” that prevents me from mustering anything further when distracted by unwelcome decibels.
My brain fog began to lift and I mined the far reaches of my mind as to how so much of myself ended up lost; but it was hazy. Because it certainly wasn’t due to being lazy- I was certainly out and about lots. This downtrodden disposition was a hurdle of my own mind’s making. I had been letting life and its various dramas get the best of me. And then there’s the world. Of which I have far less control- that is, if any at all.
Mounting uncertainty and the scary road ahead shifts my anxiety into overdrive. Which from experience I know I can try to override, by being aware and putting the pedal to the metal with my movements. Because like Sonic the Hedgehog, my time twirling revs me up to navigate this topsy-turvy world.
My mental state and movement are inextricably linked. Which had gotten lost in all the melee and hullabaloo of the hereunto. Something had to be done- stat. Because this flip it and reverse it, chit-chat patty whack-a-doo that’s actually a major don’t had made a mess out of my mental state- and it was time to tidy up.
Music is an infinite metronome- one of the few constants in a chaotic world. Music has the ability to override anyone or anything in its wake by way of its waves. A free and enveloping therapy which we can all choose to attune to. Now back at my happiest, I let out a sigh of relief. There is literally no better feeling. Yet I was still haunted by my recent realization and felt a looming knot in my stomach. New habits can die as hard as old ones, so I gave myself a swift kick in the ass- a major reboot in search of a solution.
Just how was I spending my time at parties then, if not dancing?! I retraced my steps from earlier that night and then over the past few months and was gobsmacked. My ratio of dancing vs socializing was way off kilter- like a 30 / 70 ratio when it used to be the diametric opposite.
The answer was as simple as it was clear- more dancing. More often than not it’s not as if I have something dire to say. At times I might even feel compelled by nervous energy or anxiety. Sound familiar and feel an urge to unnecessarily unload?! Push to relieve yourself of that impulse. And treat yourself to a tune up, and turn away from perceived social expectations. Because you are the most important thing to yourself. I repeat- YOU are the most important thing to yourself. So serve yourself dancing topped by decadence- because you deserve it.
The case was now closed and the verdict was clear- “use it or lose it.” Now that I had pinpointed the problem- solving it long term was a whole ‘nother story. It’s not as if changing behavior is as simple as snapping your fingers. My first instinct was drastic, but I went with it. An oath of silence would shake me of my dancefloor dismay. Not forevermore of course. I settled on dedicating time- whether it was 10 minutes or an hour to just shutting the fuck up so I could presently partake in prancing. No ki ki escape hatches or distractions allowed. And that included clocking myself from distracting other people’s dancing too.
I put my newfound idea into practice and it all too easily exceeded my expectations. And while you might find this to be a bit (or a lot) overboard, it was exactly the jumpstart my energy required. And for each subsequent rendezvous with a dancefloor in the nights and days ahead- time wasn’t even a consideration. I was back on autopilot.
There truly is NOTHING more delightful than sonic synchronicity to soothe and move you. It’s all about accessing an ever present state of dancing- which is by no means an easy feat for your feet. But it is something you can control if you put your mind to it- and something that no one can take away. It’s at once an intimate and very public love affair. But that intimacy is key to attuning to my semblance of balance. To be still is self-sabotage.
So should you approach me in the midst of twirling- it’s not about you. It’s about me and the music. Everything and everyone else is secondary. Does my approach sound tantalizing? Well, give it a whirl. I’d be delighted if dancing as a social norm was back to becoming widely understood as what comes first at a party. Perhaps it’s something to talk about…