Shoes off, Game on!
My kids are the first to tell me that my dance habit is embarrassing. A bald, old (er), white guy flailing and jiving barefoot in the park, come rain or shine, with a resplendent cohort of latter day Woodstock groovers who move like the wind. “Thanks for the offer but no, dad, probably not. Ever,” is the response of my teenage daughters.
Soul Motion, 5Rhythms and Ecstatic Dance occupy studios and dance halls in non-COVID times. But Corona has moved dance tribes outdoors. And the best way of describing the type of dance I share with renegade groups of joyful revelers around Kitsap parks is nameless and shameless freestyle with lots of heart and laughter. The bluetooth speakers get spaced in a circle, shoes and socks off, the designated DJ drops a playlist and off we go.
The stoic Heraclitus was spot on when he said “man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play.” In one park, the mature fragrant cedars have branches spaced by design for the maladroit at climbing. Perfect. We are on it. In another, the grassy slope gets a-rolling. Remember when you rolled down grassy slopes, dizzy and delighted, dashing up again to repeat? This is playtime.
I like to blame COVID for my lugubrious dating life. Though in truth, it was pretty bleak even before we all holed up. My search for a date was really a deep desire for connection and human touch. I mean, when you are alone and literally out of touch and it crosses your mind to offer a long hug to the groceries bagger for all he is doing for you, there is something missing in your humanoid wonder machine. What to do? You could self-sooth with a hairy quadruped, or start paying the kids for hand massages. That feels a little creepy. No dad, that’s not happening.
So this is where I discovered another of the incredible gifts of dance communities. It is a safe space. Yes, you will navigate your own comfort range. But imagine your friends’ Irish Setter. He trots into the room and wags his way to your side. You stroke him. He is happier, you are happier. He chases his tail. Just like that. That is what it feels like to me among fellow dancers. Touch is not weird. If it is ever creepy, you shut it down. We come to dance, to flow with the music, to celebrate earth and sky, and to connect. Even if we don’t know one another’s names.
One more thing. Did you know that the average American adult has not made a new friend in 5 years. Crazy, and yes, I know you are not average. Still, what is keeping us apart? No mystery here. I work from home. Earbuds at the gym. Don’t go to pubs. Kids are old enough to drive themselves to soccer practice so no soccer dads in my contact list. And Facebook is just that. A book of faces. So imagine my delight. In the last 8 months of outdoor dance. I have a pod of new friends, as close as those enduring relationships forged in the heady days of college. Seriously. People I love and meet each week, dance with and climb trees.
OK, so my kids are not convinced, and you may still be pirouetting on the fence. But should you want to get out of your head and into your body, no matter the weather, you could join us. Shoes off, game on.
Many thanks to Lucy Dickinson www.lucypdickinson.com for the fab photo
