I hope you Dance

 I was sitting in the car this week and one of my mom’s favorite songs came on my playlist. It moved me to tears. 

That happens a lot lately.

The lyrics danced around in my heart (which was appropriate, given the song.)

“And if you get the choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance.”

Earlier in the week I had a random out-of–the blue craving to go line dancing. No idea why. Just did.

That happens a lot lately too.  (Random life cravings, not line dancing.)

A friend mentioned a music video featuring a memorizing dancer. I watched the video and was memorized too.

The song  “Shut up and Dance” finds itself stuck in my head a lot. 

I got in a conversation with teenagers about how white girls dance. (Usually by limiting most movements to the upper body shoulder region.)

And finally today, while I was out and about, I heard my mom’s song again over an intercom.

I don’t know about you, but when a subject gets brought up that many times in a week I want to pay attention.

Dancing. To move about rhythmically to music.

I am not much of a dancer. I have rhythm, which helps, and if the electric slide comes on you will find me getting my boogie woogie on out on the dance floor.

But in the same way people save singing for the shower I mostly save dancing for the car.

We all have memories of dancing. The first ones generally involve a living room and your parents. Followed by….

The horror.

It is 6^th grade and I am in gym class. Those two things alone make me want to invent time travel just to hug my 12-year-old self.

The teacher announces that our next activity is not going to be floor hockey; instead it will be square dancing.

And we have to find our own partners. Gulp.

After a lot of pre-teen drama we all did and for the next 6 weeks it was a whole lot of looking down at our shuffling feet, red faces, screeching music and sweaty palms.

And then came middle school dances, then high school, then prom…

I do have some dancing experiences outside of the car and gymnasiums.

I tried dancing ballet when I was five and quit after a recital. We were all so full of fear that as the song Old McDonald had a Farm began to play instead of dancing like farm animals we did a solid interpretation of deer staring into headlights. 

I danced in musical theater in elementary, middle and high school.

I may or may not have given in to the line dancing craving on more than one occasion.

I took salsa lessons a while back, still have the shoes.

But mostly, I am like most people, nervous to dance in public.

And there is good reason for that.

Dancing is ridiculous.

Not the professional Nutcracker ballet kind. The everyday Joe is dancing at his cousin’s wedding kind.

Think about it.

On what other occasions do we move and shake like that? None.

When is it ever appropriate to get that close to another person in public moving that way? Never. Never in any other context is that acceptable behavior. Can you can imagine what would happen if someone started dancing at grocery store?

A friend of mine and I were recently having a conversation at a wedding.

We both decided that if aliens were to come down and visit earth there would be a few things that would make no sense to them at all. (I know, an alien conversation at a wedding?) 

I believe we mentioned money as one, the red carpet another and the third was dancing.

Alien log: Humans appeared to be going about as normal until a certain sound came on. They appeared to be under some kind of influence as they rushed together on a platform and moved in a most peculiar manor, changing movement with the changing sound. Some sounds produced synchronized and repetitive movements. At times, they danced in pairs. Such movement is not observed in any other known human activity.

Okay dancing is weird and we all have awkward memories when we were younger but it still doesn’t explain while I was moved to tears sitting in the car.

Why am I dancing around the subject?

Let me practice a few steps for a second.

If I think about it, it is not just about the act of dancing. As my mom’s song suggests, it is what dancing represents, the emotions and requirements that come with it.

Dancing requires courage, energy, action and enthusiasm. You can practice for a long time and still not be good, so just go for it. You generally don’t do it alone. You are watched.

Dancing is about engaging. Expressing yourself. Learning steps. Being put on the spot. Looking ridiculous. Having fun. Navigating awkward moments. Being free. Being vulnerable. Being clueless. Being together.  

Dancing is about slowing down. Speeding up. Using all of yourself. Stepping on people’s toes. Having bad partners. Having good ones. Falling in love. Learning something new. Taking lessons. Pulling muscles. Getting sweaty. Focusing. Committing to it. Wild abandonment. Celebration.

It demands you be here. Be present.

And unless you are Justin Timberlake, it is risky.

It requires you come out of your comfort zone in some way. 

Dancing is not just about listening, it’s about action.

It’s about being moved. 

It’s life.

Hence the tears.

Go back and substitute living instead of dancing.  It applies.

Living requires courage, energy, action and enthusiasm. You can practice for a long time and still not be good, so just go for it. You generally don’t do it alone. You are watched.

Living is about engaging. Expressing yourself. Learning steps. Being put on the spot. Looking ridiculous. Having fun. Navigating awkward moments. Being free. Being vulnerable. Being clueless. Being together.  

Living is about slowing down. Speeding up. Using all of yourself. Stepping on people’s toes. Having bad partners. Having good ones. Falling in love. Learning something new. Taking lessons. Pulling muscles. Getting sweaty. Focusing. Committing to it. Wild abandonment. Celebration.

Living demands you be here. Be present.

And unless you are Justin Timberlake, it is risky.

It requires you come out of your comfort zone in some way. 

Living is not just about listening, it is about action.

It’s about being moved.

The song is not about dancing at all.

It’s about life. 

That is why I was moved in the car. My mom’s song. The song she wants for me and my sister and brother. (And knowing my mom she wants it for everyone.)

When I hear that song now, I hear it as my mother’s prayer.

When you or someone very close to you faces something very serious, it changes things.

You realize that the music in this life is not going to last forever. The song is going to end.

The question becomes: are you going to sit life out or are you going to get up on the dance floor and live it?

I am not even suggesting that dancing has to be loud and crazy. Some of us can sky dive and backpack through India. Others might spend a weekend in silence.

It may mean reading a book you love, smelling the ocean at least once a month, getting a degree, getting in shape. Seeking forgiveness. Forgiving. Telling someone you think they are amazing. Letting go of the past. Loving.

However you are created to move, move.

It doesn’t matter if you look weird or you haven’t found a partner yet or you think you are bad at it.

Take lessons. Pull others up to come with you if you need to.

But do it. Even if you are on the “dance to the beat of your own music” type.

Rock that funky chicken.

Own that electric slide.

Impress with the cabbage patch.

Dare to tango.

Be completely you. Don’t leave anything out.

Leave it all out on the floor.

But dance, for goodness sake, dance.

For me, I will dust off the salsa shoes. Put square dancing and deer in headlights behind me.

I am a pretty decent line dancer.  So maybe it’s time for a waltz? 

By the way, the tears came at this line in the song, “May you never take one single breath for granted.”

Thank you mama, this one is for you.

Can anyone hum a waltz?

One, two, three, One, two, three… 

Song referenced is " I Hope you Dance." By Lee Ann Womack 

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