remembered a little bit of who I was, I remembered my thing. You know that thing, that thing that
makes you feel better, that get’s your juices flowing, that amps your energy,
for some people it’s running, for some people it’s yoga… everyone has their
thing. My thing was dancing. Not professionally or anything, probably not even
very well in fact, but that was my thing.
As a child
and tween I took the obligatory dance classes, anything from ballet, to modern
dance, to flamenco. As an angsty teen I’d sit in my room with the stereo as
loud as my parents could stand it and dance around, and around, and around… for
hours. As I got older and more disciplined I went back to the dance studio and
pliéed my way to something akin to a nervous breakdown. I flitted from class to
class, spending time and money I really didn’t have as a college student,
trying everything you can imagine, classical ballet, contemporary dance, modern
dance, even something similar to African tribal dancing simply called Afro. All
this of course seasoned with a healthy side of clubbing on the weekends, where
I was probably the only one actually there to boogie rather than the drinking
and hooking up that normally goes on at that age.
And then I
got older, work got in the way, and relationships… because what guy in a
relationship is going to take you dancing? And life in general, it gets in the
way of what we really like to do. And then you start feeling self conscious and silly, at 36 I’ve
managed to lose the simple pleasure of being silly. I get embarrassed, I feel
like an idiot at the idea of jumping around the room with volume up, I’m too
old, I’m a mother… I don’t think twice about prancing around my living room,
neighing, with both kids on my back as I pretend to be a horse, but dancing, that’s too embarrassing. How ridiculous.
How sad. When did I start thinking I was too old to dance? When does anyone get
too old to dance?
biblically long preamble to say that today I got in the car and Stand by Lenny
Kravitz was playing and I got that giddy feeling one gets when the endorphins
start pumping, I laughed out loud, and I imagined myself dancing (I was
driving, I couldn’t actually dance), I even bounced around in my seat a little
bit. And it was fun. And it made me happy, well happier than I’ve been lately
anyway. When did I get too old for fun?
So I got
home and I downloaded the song and I got the kids and we played it really loud
and danced around the living room. I could see my reflection in the windows, I
looked idiotic, I was embarrassed, I wasn’t sure what to do with all those
limbs flailing about haphazardly. But it was sort of fun.
And my two
kids, they had no compunction whatsoever about dancing around and being silly,
more proof, if any was needed, that children are so much smarter than adults.
up the volume! (I linked up the Glee version of this song because I like this video better than the official Lenny Kravitz video, which is a bit ridiculous and won't let you concentrate on the music. Also here there are cute boys in suits dancing about.)