“If you can’t get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you best teach it how to dance.” – George Bernard Shaw
There are many things I love to do in my alone time. I love to sing. I love to eat…the way I want to. I love to lay on the floor and read a book for hours with my ear buds in. Most of all, I love to dance. Sure I dance all the time with my friends. We dance everything from silly dance to club dance. Yet alone dance is the dance I love the most, for legit reasons of course.
I love this type of dance because it is never planned. It is pure and spontaneous. It comes out of nowhere and infects my body like a surge of electricity. Plain tasks and chores turn into my own private dance rehearsals. I am inhibited and unhinged. There is no criteria. There is no routine. It is just me, dancing. Sweeping and mopping the floor turns into the a staccato-filled tango. A simple shower turns into the most sultry of shows for no one in particular. Washing dishes and folding clothes leave my hands preoccupied but my legs and feet move to whatever beat is flowing through my ear canal. It never matters, as long as I’m dancing. Dancing like this helps me relieve any stress, unwound any tension in my body and clear my always clouded mind.
I always wonder why I’ve never been caught. Like I am always doing it. I give little hints with small steps and gentles sways in public but that is nothing. Oh what a sight I’d be if I was seen. Ears blocked by buds as music takes over my limbs. Hips gyrate and sway as my arms float in the air. My head thrown back in pure abandon as a grin graces my lips. My eyes closed as I move across the room, and I mean move. My feet stomp a top the table as I dip low and fall onto the couch, letting my legs drum to whatever is playing. My body taunt as I leap fluidly over furniture. Grace I only possess in privacy shines with every spin I about the room. Years of off-handed practice shows as I dance new dances every day. Air guitars on bed make me laugh as I stare at the carefree girl in the mirror before me. The me I hope to bring out fully. She’s almost there though.
As I do this though, one thing always floats in the back of my mind: regret. I regret never pursuing this activity fully. I had my chance trust me. I was enrolled in a class and was having a blast. Yet one thing stood in the way: hesitation. It only takes one second for it to hit me and fill me with doubt and nerves and fear. I gave every excuse in the book to leave that class behind and I was given reprieve from my self-torture. Only years later did I look back and realize what I did was utterly stupid. If I could go back I would, but that is not an option.
So I speak onto you all with one request, and that is to dance. Dance in a class. Dance in your home. Dance through your chores. Dance in your underwear. Dance at work. Dance in your hear if you have to. Just dance.
To further this dance craze, here is an example of what gets me moving. Ignore the fact that is say “Shower Jams”, as that was it’s initial purpose before it changed. Some songs are simple and some explicit but eh, to each their own. Enjoy.