What is it with me, and dancing? I love it. And it doesn’t matter what kind – Hip Hop, Greek dancing, Country, ballet… I love it all.
It’s like the feeling, the music, gets into me, and makes it impossible for me not to move (Yes, I’m one of those people that, if you are embarrassed by spontaneous, public displays of movement, you’d better pick a spot to stand far away from me).
Dance is expressive, like a voice, my 2nd language. And I just can’t help myself. The sad thing is, that I don’t dance enough! The dance classes I like are too far away, and going out to clubs was always a challenge (“Look, Martha, they’re going to dance!”), and sadly, it’s even harder now that I’m on my own. But sometimes, I have been known to just put on music, and cut a rug at home. Once when Patrick was ill, I even donned a pair of high heels, streamed a Saturday night Hip Hop station, and went to it. At one point, I turned, and saw Patrick standing in the doorway, smiling affectionately at me. I shrugged a little sheepishly, “I couldn’t help it. I had to.”
This past Saturday night, I made the fortuitous decision to delay an errand trip to Santa Fe in order to go to a concert at my local Auditorium. Ozomalti, was playing. Ozomalti!! I just happened to be in town the previous day, and just happened to see a sign advertising the concert. Ozomalti!! They are well-known LA band, that they were playing in this small town was…amazing. And this would prove to be a wonderful night for me. Because…
1) I love Latin music (Ozomatli is described as urban-Latino-and-beyond). Hell, I love all kinds of music. The only thing that is crossed off the list is musak. You know, the elevator music they use to play? Luckily, that music hard to run into it these days.
2) I love (you got it!) DANCING.
I was up on my feet the entire concert, boogying with the tunes. And it felt – great. One thing I knew for sure – I need more dancing in my life.
Just recently, a friend asked if I wanted to go out with a group to Salsa dance. Salsa dance??? Would I?? I nodded in a calm, controlled fashion, “That sounds like it’d be fun.” I couldn’t let myself get too excited. If I let myself get excited about the thought of going dancing, let alone Salsa dancing, my DNA would start to tumble and rearrange itself. I’d be straightening myself up, I’d start thinking of what shoes I’m going to wear. What dress. And yes, of course I’d like to go, but it isn’t that easy – I’m solo, and I feel awkward… What if they don’t accept me? What if no one asks me to dance, and I’m forced to embarrass my friends by dancing in the aisles of the dining tables by myself, which would be totally inappropriate in this venue? Worst, what if I have too much fun? “Fun,” that much fun, can still hurt for me.
But Saturday night as I’m boogying and ‘sharin’ the love’ with Ozomatli on stage in New Mexico, a confident, happy thought comes to my mind, “Salsa. I’m going to go Salsa dancing!” Do it, girl. Make it happen.
As crazy as I am about dancing, I’ll probably end up like an much older woman I know who is teased mercilessly about her love for dance. So much so that her family and friends joked that they were going out dancing one evening, so she dressed up, and fell asleep sitting in a chair, waiting for them.
Or, better yet…I’ll be like my mother-in-law, Patsy. Patsy taught dance for over 60 years, and is retired now. But when she moves, she is vital and vibrant. And she rivals any twenty-year old.