Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Magic of the Dance
Think about this for a moment: what sorts of conversations do you have with people without words?
So when it works, when two people somehow make this dance work, this non-verbal communication of some fair subtlety, well. Those are some fine moments. They can be very affecting. Intimate.
Tonight I met a stranger, and with barely two words spoken between us, we stepped onto the floor and we danced. From the first movement I knew it was something special. Uncommonly smooth, slow. Velvety. As the music gathered itself and leapt, luxuriated, and wound around, I remembered why I do this insanely hard dance, with all its frustrations and agonies. For a few dances, I felt the grace and rightness of the world. It was a bit like being in love.
But this fellow who was a stranger before we danced and was something else after was no more to be held onto than a rainbow. So we exchanged a smile, a thank-you, and we both went on to our next partners. That's how it goes. The moments are what you get.
And for a few glorious moments last night, it all came together. For a few moments last night, the birds sang, the flowers bloomed, and I Danced.