You know that saying, “Dance like no one is watching”? Literally, right now no one is watching. I know this because I pretty much danced the whole way home during The Walk Up the Hill today, and not a single quarantined soul saw me. I think.
But you know what? At this point, I really don’t care if they did.
I’ve been frustrated, stressed out, sad, and missing life as it was before the world turned upside down. I’m always trying to look on the bright side, but some days it’s just a hard battle no matter how sunny you are. Life gets that way.
One of the things that has helped these past few weeks are our walks. We head out when all is still, the crickets tuning up for their evening chorus…the light breeze chilly enough for long sleeves. I often watch my husband and try to figure out what’s on his mind as he treks a few hundred yards ahead of me.
I know he misses golf. He doesn’t talk about the loss of his stress-relieving pastime, but I can tell by the way he sometimes skips the sidewalk in the narrow park and marches through the cool, thick grass alongside it…as if pretending he’s once again heading down his Sunday fairway, toward the green. Our happy yellow dog trots right beside him. Nothing’s changed for the dog. Except she’s getting more walks now, so all is right in her world.
But nothing feels right in mine. Unless I take the time to really think on what I can be thankful for. Unless I have the pleasure of being stopped by a friendly neighbor on my way to the mailbox, and we have a longer than usual six-feet-apart chat in real life. Real life! No screens or miles between us. Unless I find myself tutoring a smiley student or two in a video conference while clutching my Christmas gift teacher mug that says “Best Teacher Ever” and is full of my homemade chai tea latte, which makes me feel like I am almost holding a Starbucks in my hand and almost in my classroom. Almost.
We say we are safe in our homes, we say we are doing our part to save lives, we say things could be worse–how dare we complain–but the reality is that our community is distanced, our activities are no longer scheduled, and that takes a very real toll on our emotions.
I am not a runner, but tonight I wanted to break into a full sprint. I didn’t want to hurt myself, so instead…I danced. I didn’t care if I looked like a fool. But no one was watching anyway. And it helped that is was nearly dark. The streets were silent, with no cars passing by on the newly paved road…the houses were all tucked away with their people, as if calling it an early night and heading to bed. The sun had barely settled in itself. Not even my husband who was ahead of me knew that I was groovin’.
The walking is good for us. The fresh air is an amazing feeling when you’ve been stuck to a computer screen for hours all day. And it is when I walk that I start to forget all of my struggles and all of my worries. It is when I begin to brainstorm creative ideas….it is when I begin to daydream of better days.
The walking is good, but the dancing is better. Dancing is like a gift to the stars, as they show up to their cozy, indigo theater seats one by one. Dancing is a better representation of your soul rather than simply plodding along with one foot in front of the other. When life feels grim, it’s the music that has the power to unlock your tension which begins the life-giving movement and fills your body with new energy and delight. It’s in the dance that we discover the freedom to feel.
My walk didn’t start out that way. I was as grumpy as a bear woken up out of an early hibernation when we first set out. But about halfway through (I’m sure there’s some science in this having to do with endorphins or something), a new song came on through my earbuds and I rebelliously decided to smile and bust a move right there on the sidewalk in front of an audience of none.
By the time I got home, my frown had disappeared and I felt a little closer to content than I had all day.
So I’m going to try to remember this dancing day. And I might just do more of it.
But don’t tell anyone.