This is a strange post because it is about the dead parts of something that just breathed anew in my life.
Dance has played a strong influence in my life, stronger than I realized until this week. I was walking to Spiritual Sunday Cinema at the Moore's with Rachel (Alternative Sunday School had just finished) and she asked me about stuff I was doing this semester. I mentioned folk dancing and she asked if I had ever danced before. I replied that I had not really. Just a little bit with show choir. I've realized I deceived her unintentionally.
Show choir was an unforgettable part of my life. I loved every bit of it. Each year was fun, I loved the people I got to serve with, and the audiences were so special to me. It was relaxing and energetic. I wouldn't say I was great at it, but I did my part and I learned a lot each year. Working together. Feeling the pressure of a performance. The many lunches together. And the smiles. It was so amazing. Show choir helped me feel confident in my singing and dancing and acting. I got to be a leader and a helper. But this was not my only experience with dance before this year.
Sufi dancing has come up several times in the last few days between classes and conversations. I felt such a power from those nights. Total emptying of everything I carried. Trance-like at times. The purity and peace of giving yourself completely to something. I remember dancing on New Year's Eve of, I think, 2007. For one long dance I was with a stout, elderly man. He looked a fair bit like Gimli. I noticed he had a strong aroma about him, kinda like someone who hasn't bathed in a few days. But it wasn't unpleasant, it was just very layered. Acrid on top, but there was a deep musk to it, which I found very pleasant. And yet some other scents I can't really define. Something that could have only come from hard work was there. I can't think of many moments I've breathed more deeply. That kind of freedom and peace and acceptance is what Sufi dancing gave me. The experiences peaked when I met Asha and she changed me in so many ways. I will always be thankful for them.
One lovely summer Ruby called me and asked if I'd be available for a few weeks. I said sure and asked why. Apparently her father had an intern from Kazakhstan who happened to have won their national ballroom championship. Ruby asked if she could take some lessons from the lady and she said sure if she could find a partner and that is how I came into the picture. It was so difficult but so much fun. We never had many lessons and I certainly felt awkward and slow, but it was a challenge and I found peace in trying. It taught me that there are things I have to practice if I want to be good and that I can become good at things that I practice.
And now I folk dance. This semester is void of a few joys I have, science and singing being the most prevalent. But they have been replaced by folk dance. I sweat every time we practice. It's intense. We jump and kick and bounce and spin without stop. It's so much fun. And even in just a couple weeks we're all rather close. The guys get along. The girls are great. We can all laugh at our mistakes. It's low stress but greatly rewarding. What amazes me is that every song has a dance. Every song in every culture. And many of these cultures still teach everyone these dances and songs. One of our instructors, on her mission, met a Polish woman who promptly tried to end the conversation. She asked if the woman was Polish, guessing by her accent, and she respond that she was Polish. Our instructor then started talking about these Polish dances that she knew. The lady was so excited that she dragged both girls inside and talked with them for quite a while. Understanding someone's culture shows them that even though you do not know them you care about them. Dance and music is the percussive heartbeat of so many cultures. Who doesn't have happy memories of dancing when you were younger? If you don't, you should try folk dancing because you'll make them now.
