In my head (and in my dreams), I am a fabulous dancer. There, I am more "fly" than J-Lo ever dreamed and can rival any celebrity who wants to dance with the stars. In reality? I can hold my own, but I'm no Ginger ... never will be. And, truth be told, don't want to be. I'm o.k. with being mediocre at best and just loving the moment of being "one with the music." The sheer gift of movement and the ability to follow the music - aloud or in your head - is not about being as good as or better than anyone else. Rather, I think dancing is a larger life issue.
A lot of things in my immediate line of vision are dancing these days. The budding limbs of the redbud tree in my backyard AND the birds trying to perch there, the heavy heads of tulips just about to burst open with color, and all those little weeds popping up in my front yard. The thing I most love to watch dancing in the spring breeze (or cyclone, depending on the day) is a wind dancer that I received as a gift a few years ago. It's just like a million other whirly things except that it's "legs" are open on the bottom, so that when the wind turns it about it really does look a lot like a dancer, leaping and spinning as it goes. Watching it spin like a madwoman in the wind a few days back ... well, I thought for a moment I was seeing myself. Not necessarily enjoying the music of the moment, however, just spinning like a demon. Which got me to thinking ...
Sometimes the dancing you and I do - alright, I'll own it - sometimes the dancing that I do is not to my own music, but someone else's. As the beat gets faster and more demanding, I've felt more than once like I have to dance faster and with a more powerful, more definitive step-ball-change. I preached a sermon several years ago to this effect and, evidently, I wasn't listening to myself that day because I'm learning the same lesson AGAIN. The psalmists write quite a bit about dancing as an act of worship. King David was criticized heavily for his heartfelt dance when it didn't fit his wife's idea of a polite offering before God (well, really before everyone else who was looking.) And, that's the big idea. If I'm dancing as a sheer celebration of the gift of movement and being able to hear the music, if I'm dancing as a response to the joy and call of life then whatever steps I make are beautiful. Yours are, too ... don't let anyone tell you otherwise. (Now, we might not be ready to make a music video that inspires the world, but that's not the point anyway.) BUT, if my quick-stepping, as it were, is in an effort to please someone else then I've already lost the music in my heart and head. And, that's not dancing.
By now, I hope you've realized I'm not talking just about literally moving my feet, and the rest of my body if it will cooperate, to the music on my IPOD. I'm talking about any and all of the things that I, that we do with our bodies and minds and hearts and spirits. ANYthing. Really hearing the rhythm of the day and coming alongside that rhythm with thoughts and words and action turns my to-do list, my busy calendar, the day's expectations and obligations, into a dance. There are moments when that wind dancer looks more like it's twisting in the wind ... and haven't we all felt like we've been left to that - than dancing. Still, there are beautiful moments when that wind dancer seems to be taking advantage of the wind - dancing with it, if you will.
I don't want to waste the dance any more. Why should I waste my time (and the music) dancing how and when and why someone else wants me to dance? I want to stop twisting in the wind and start taking advantage of the rhythm of the day ... and dancing like nobody's business!
