5, 6, 7, 8….
That sound makes my heart race,
I have to move
My feet can’t be stuck in one place,
There’s nothing to lose
In my element, I’m free
Easy as 1, 2, 3
passion takes the lead
Take your chance
Hold your stance
No second glance
Just dance, dance, dance
-Poem by Brittany Lombardi
When I dance, I know exactly who I am. The chaotic world orders itself, and I know where I fit. There will be no auditions or rejections. I’m not in training anymore. In my genres, I’m a master now. So when I step into the studio every week, my heavy invisible backpack slides off my back and gets dropped at the door. I am fully alive, wide awake and comfortable in the present moment. I am ready to create.
When I dance, I am wild and authentically, uniquely me. I’ve certainly got other passions like writing and Spanish, but when I do these things I still feel encumbered. If only by threads, I am tethered.
But when I dance, I am light. Buoyant. Free. If you don’t know me, you might assume I am one of the chosen few: an up and coming dancer with her whole bright career stretched out ahead of her, or perhaps a famous industry leader with reels of credits. You’d probably never guess I could lose a few pounds, and I’m approaching middle age. If you could join me in the studio and we could move together, I’d surprise you again; you’d believe I was a much younger, more beautiful woman.
Because when I dance, I wear my soul on the outside of my body. In my everyday life, I persevere through new pursuits that pose major struggles for me, like 5am workouts and CrossFit training, and many times I fail. I can’t climb the rope. I can’t complete the “real” pull-up. I CANNOT do one more burpee. I pause and limp along, gasping for breath when I am supposed to be running faster, going harder. I employ the help of experts to lead me and I often glimpse myself through their eyes, pathetic and stumbling. Weak. I catch myself thinking, If only these people could see me dance.
Because when I dance I am a warrior. I am strong and fierce and in command. I grow tall, my heart swells bigger my eyes flash bright, and I bring the fire. I don’t shrink myself. I do not waffle. Sometimes I fall, but I do it attempting something great, doing a thing most other people simply cannot do or would not dare. And I get back up! Every. Single. Time. I turn the music up louder, and I keep going, because dancing makes me real.
When I dance I become my best self- artist, teacher and mother- so I’m able to pull the best out of my students. Suddenly they too are doing things they once believed they couldn’t. Click! They’re in the pocket, becoming more, and I got to be the one to lead them to this special place. It might be but a moment, but we have reallydanced and so we’re forever changed. The world will never see us in our corner of the neighborhood studio week after week, and maybe they wouldn’t notice us if they did, because we are invisible to their untrained eyes. Our dancing goes virtually undetected and undocumented, but the magic has happened anyway, and I am whole.
This post was orginally published on denacronholm.wordpress.com.