Tonight I went dancing. I found a dancing hall not too far from me that offered what they call “Saturday Night Dance Parties”, each week beginning the night out with an hour long dance lesson in a different form of dance, followed by open floor dancing. I’d called several weeks ago to ask about it, and found out (as I suspected) it is a club made up of mostly elderly people, but of course youngers are welcome! So, this week when I saw that the theme was Swing, I decided to try it out.
I enjoyed it quite a lot! Yes, besides someone’s younger grandchildren I was the youngest in the place by at least twenty years, and yes, the music and dancing was expectedly on the slower level (which is not a bad thing for my two left feet!) but the atmosphere was so welcoming and enjoyable!
During the lesson time, as we switched partners every few minutes, I was able to become more comfortable with the other dancers, even talking the little nine year old boy into trying out a few steps with me! Then, the lesson ended, the lights were dimmed, and the real dancing began!
I retreated to my corner table, taking a drink of water, pretending to check my phone (ha! Who am I kidding? I never have any messages!) Thinking to myself “how long should I sit here smiling like a fool before I politely slip out?” Ya know, the usual wall flower routine. Having come alone I had no expectations of anyone dancing with me, but I didn’t want to just rush out!
However, I didn’t sit long before one of the older gentlemen asked me to dance. I warned him that I knew next to nothing, but he assured me he would show me. After that I never sat for long! As each new song began another gentleman would come up, ask me if I knew the step (of course I didn’t) and offered me his hand assuring me it wasn’t hard. (Well, not hard if you’ve got rhythm, something I seem to lack!) It was a delightful evening and I hope to talk someone into coming with me next time (so if your interested, lemme know!)
But, being there made me think of two things: first, how much I dearly miss FLI and the many, many dance parties we shared (where two or more are gathered there shall be dancing!) and second, how I love the way that dancing is a metaphor of life. When we first arrived for the lesson, the instructor asked us ladies a multiple choice question: if, at any point during the night, our partner is off beat, or stepping incorrectly, do we the ladies:
A: Slap him across the face and say, “that’s not right! Let me show you how it’s done!”
B: Gently say “Honey, don’t you hear the instructors voice in your head counting off? Do you need me to count out loud for you?”
C: Just follow his lead, whatever or wherever it may be.
Hmm, kind of like in life? If a mans dance partner is constantly pointing out his flaws in a negative way, do you think he’ll want to improve, or enjoy the dance? And if a woman keeps trying to take the lead by telling him what to do, she’ll miss out on the surprise spins and dips! There's nothing like a man who’s confident in his dance, and I’m glad that I’m a girl when it comes to dancing, because whether I know the steps of not doesn’t matter, if my partner is at least confident enough to lead (whether he knows the steps or not) then I have nothing to worry about. (Or, at least, much less to worry about!)
Now, basically, take the above paragraph and swap the words “dance” with “life”.
And that’s how I see life (and dancing, whichever :-)
This was the last time I've been Swing dancing, my FLI classmates, Dusten and Katie taught a bunch of us while we were out in Colorado...I had to be the man due to our small number of boys, but I couldnt help but have fun with such a lovely partner as Miss Bri! (and yeah, I am glowering at the camera :-)
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