Dancing It Free / The 500-Word Project: Week 11
2013
I peek into the dance studio, scanning the space before daring to enter. Pearl-gray morning light sifts through the two large windows on the opposite end of the room, reflected and expanded by the long wall of mirrors. Someone’s left one of the windows propped open, and a chilly breeze reaches all the way to the door where I stand, still hesitant.
Finally I get up the nerve to walk in and drop my things along the closest wall, with all the other bags and bottles of water. Despite the influx of fresh air there remains a certain pungency here, an atmosphere of movement, of effort, of striving.
People stretch, scattered throughout the space. One person props a balletic leg up against the back wall, another guides herself fluidly through yoga asanas. They all seem so comfortable in this room, so comfortable in their bodies. I sit and stretch too—for something to do, for a place to put my eyes.
The teacher catches our attention and briefly explains that the music will cycle through five rhythms: flowing, staccato, chaos, lyrical, and stillness. Provided we respect one another and the space, we’re free to move as we like, letting the music guide us.
Within seconds, my whole self stands up with a yes.
The music starts, and with it our bodies. I close my eyes and feel into it. The sounds are smooth, water-like. I let my arms drift upward and down again, leading with them. The rest of my body follows, responsive, unresisting, free of thought.
The first shift in music catches me by delightful surprise. Its rhythm is strong and assured; around me people move in sharp bursts, knees lifting, elbows jabbing, chins pointing. We each dance in our own world, and yet it’s clear in how we move through the space that these worlds are touching, unmistakably connected.
When it changes again, the music is carried on a drumbeat so solid that to follow is imperative. Every part of me gives way to a deep and thorough shaking. I have no desire to stop, but don’t think I could even if I wanted to. The beat transports me beyond cognition; there’s simply no room to resist.
The next piece is playful, buoyant. I meet the blue-gray eyes of another dancer and her smile sparks one of my own. Something joyous lifts in my midsection. Here there’s a freedom of movement, a lightheartedness in the wake of intensity.
The last rhythm is quiet, soothing. I lie on my back, drawing my knees to my chest and rolling gently. Looking around, I notice other dancers slowly undulating, and still others curling up within themselves.
Afterward, I smile to myself as I change into my street clothes, then notice that the girl with the blue-gray eyes is just to my left.
“First class today?” she asks.
“Yep,” I say, turning my face toward her.
“Never would’ve known,” she says, smiling in return and moving toward the door. “See ya next week.”
11 comments
Trackback e pingback
No trackback or pingback available for this article
Nice post! And such an encouragement from your fellow dancer. If only we would always look for ways to encourage one another, the world could be a different place.
The words were like the music you were listening to. Well done.
You painted a beautiful picture with your words. What encouragement to hear as you complete your first class. Kudos!
How lovely that you experienced something so liberating in your first class and were then able to translate that feeling to the rest of us through your words. I hope you keep feeling that freeing feeling, both through your dance and through your writing.
Such a beautiful post.
Lovely!
Paige- I am not a dancer…but after reading your piece I wish oh I wish I was. You painted a breathtaking moment with your words.I wanted to stand in the back of the room and watch. Beautiful !
Blessings-
Nancy
Paige, you had me moving to the music too. Beautifully written. Well done. Ian
Ps I’m not a dancer.
Like Nancy, I am not a dancer, but often wish I could be. Somehow your words helped me to feel a bit of what it must be like. Thank you.
Thanks so much, everyone! I’m not a dancer in the typical sense of the word either—I have no dance training whatsoever—but I suppose I am a dancer in the sense that I love to dance and indulge often.
I really appreciate all your comments—thanks very much for sharing your thoughts.
Woah, that sounds like the scariest thing to do in the whole world! Lovely to read about it though