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Dancing Lessons
The wet pavement glistens beneath the soft glow of street lights as I journey homewards from my second dance class. Step, step, step, step step step...click click click, is the rythm in my head, rain keeping beat as it patters against my navy umbrella, a gentle patter. My mind wanders, skipping here and there, puzzeling over whether this is working.
I seem to have improved or so I think. Yet, it is hard to go to the classes solo. If it weren't for Faith, who is also solo, (more or less - her friend (female) is in the advanced class), it would feel more awkward than it does. It is still awkward, especially towards the end of the class when the couples begin to dance with each other and are shown how to hold one another correctly. Watching them makes me feel lonely, even while I dance next to Faith, my feet moving in quick little steps back and forth and to the side, then turn, weight on the left. The other class seems to have a more even mix -of couples and singles, than this one does. I envy them - their easy intermingling. I envy Faith, whose friend suggests to our teacher's husband, that he give her a turn around the floor. I practice in the mirror for a little while, watching my feet. Step step step, click click click...the music echoing my steps through the wooden floor, a soft vibration. "What's wrong?" Someone asks at one point. I turn, nothing, I lie. "You looked like you were thinking very hard..." Ah, I was. Too hard, think I. Never a good thing. For a little while my mind switched off, and I focused on the steps.
When does your mind switch off? What would it take to switch it off - a friend asked me this week. The question gave me pause. Dancing helps. When I was younger - running switched it off - when the body was exerting itself. Writing also switches that part of my brain off...sometimes, depends on the writing, I suppose.
But it's not the mind that needs switching off so much as the yearning - yearning for something that I can't have. Can't find. I keep hunting it. Trying this and that...like a child turning over rocks hunting a salamander.
Resenting those who appear to have found it so effortlessly. Like someone winning the lottery on the first try or getting their first novel published on the first try. Is it happiness? Or a sense of wholeness? A sense of completeness? Or just feeling comfortable in my own skin - stepping to the beat. Dancing is like that actually - feeling comfortable in one's own skin, enough so that the beat moves within you. Not worrying what others think. This week - I think I danced good. A couple people noticed improvement or so I thought. Not sure. The uncertainity plagues me. My assignment this week is to not second-guess my decisions. To let it roll - what happens happens, worry about it later. Don't think about it. Let's see if I can do it.
I seem to have improved or so I think. Yet, it is hard to go to the classes solo. If it weren't for Faith, who is also solo, (more or less - her friend (female) is in the advanced class), it would feel more awkward than it does. It is still awkward, especially towards the end of the class when the couples begin to dance with each other and are shown how to hold one another correctly. Watching them makes me feel lonely, even while I dance next to Faith, my feet moving in quick little steps back and forth and to the side, then turn, weight on the left. The other class seems to have a more even mix -of couples and singles, than this one does. I envy them - their easy intermingling. I envy Faith, whose friend suggests to our teacher's husband, that he give her a turn around the floor. I practice in the mirror for a little while, watching my feet. Step step step, click click click...the music echoing my steps through the wooden floor, a soft vibration. "What's wrong?" Someone asks at one point. I turn, nothing, I lie. "You looked like you were thinking very hard..." Ah, I was. Too hard, think I. Never a good thing. For a little while my mind switched off, and I focused on the steps.
When does your mind switch off? What would it take to switch it off - a friend asked me this week. The question gave me pause. Dancing helps. When I was younger - running switched it off - when the body was exerting itself. Writing also switches that part of my brain off...sometimes, depends on the writing, I suppose.
But it's not the mind that needs switching off so much as the yearning - yearning for something that I can't have. Can't find. I keep hunting it. Trying this and that...like a child turning over rocks hunting a salamander.
Resenting those who appear to have found it so effortlessly. Like someone winning the lottery on the first try or getting their first novel published on the first try. Is it happiness? Or a sense of wholeness? A sense of completeness? Or just feeling comfortable in my own skin - stepping to the beat. Dancing is like that actually - feeling comfortable in one's own skin, enough so that the beat moves within you. Not worrying what others think. This week - I think I danced good. A couple people noticed improvement or so I thought. Not sure. The uncertainity plagues me. My assignment this week is to not second-guess my decisions. To let it roll - what happens happens, worry about it later. Don't think about it. Let's see if I can do it.