Saturday, August 20, 2011
Dance. Just Dance
Years ago I foolishly came to believe that making a mistake (and admitting it) made me ... less than.
I don't remember when that belief came to be. Probably in my teens. By the time I got to college and somehow I had to be 'perfect'. Which really... is impossible. But I tried. Oh I tried.
I think this is why I never had an opportunity to dance with anyone else and have spent my life dancing by myself. What I realized last night as a new friend came into my life was that I'm terrified of making mistakes in someone's arms.
Last night I figured out that I have to let go of my need to control, and let go my knowledge of rhythm and music. Because the woman must surrender to whatever rhythm her partner is feeling and transmitting, even if it is different from the music she hears. Otherwise you're just two people awkwardly shuffling your feet.
There are places, times, and tasks where I can, and do, lead. But the dance floor isn't one of them.
I don't want to be 'taught' how to dance with a partner. Because that keeps the understanding up 'in my head,' not allowing it to embed itself into the fibers of my being.
When the opportunity presents itself I will ask you to dance with me. Not to teach me. Just to dance with me. To accept that in the beginning our movements may not be an intricate woven series of steps.
And so, I ask forgiveness in advance for stepping on your toes, bumping heads, or just plain clumsiness, as I release my need for control and learn to Listen.