Dance
Then
“Every
savage can dance.”
Jane
Austen
Count me in! I grew up in
a family that loved music. My dad sang—a deep baritone. My mother
could swing-dance and jitterbug. My grandmother played the piano like
nobody's business. One of the earliest pieces of furniture in our
home, even though we could barely feed ourselves, was a big, old
console radio/record player. Music was always playing, and I danced
like a mad dog from the time I could stand up. So, count me happily
among the savages.
My first husband could
not relax enough to dance. He did an off-beat box-step no matter what
the music. As we say down South when something is inexplicable, “Bless
his heart.” My second husband danced like a stripper—all body
jiggling and dirty dog. It was not a pretty sight, but at least he
was moved by the beat of the music. I dated a guy for a while who
square danced—he carried around diagrams of the complicated moves
and partner switches. You needed a special costume and cowboy boots.
For me, that was like figuring out an algebra equation—not fun in
the least.
In the Gnostic Gospel,
Acts of John, written in the second century, Jesus teaches his
disciples a song and a round dance. He tells them: “If you don't
dance, you will never understand who God is...” I suppose that
scripture is the inspiration behind the Celtic hymn, “Lord of
the Dance:”
“Dance,
then, wherever you may be
I am the
Lord of the dance said he
And I'll
lead you all wherever you may be
And I'll
lead you all in the dance said he.”
(The
Dubliners)
Spontaneous movement to
music is as old as humanity itself, and is the body's expression of
pure delight. It can be a meditation, a celebration, or a prayer. You
don't have to take lessons, you don't have to look cool, you don't
have to win contests, or get hopped up on drugs and alcohol—you
just let the music move through you.
I hope today you'll tap
into your inner savage and dance your heart out. Nothing is better
for the soul.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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