Dance

I love to dance. Moscow just finished its 29th annual Rendezvous Music Festival which is 3 nights in a row of outdoor music and dancing. Some folks complain that it is expensive, but if you look at it terms of annual entertainment expense all crammed into one weekend, it is the best bargain around. We get up and coming bands, they have energy and want to please the crowd, and the community of Moscow responds. Kids with glow sticks hop around, teenagers dance in a mass, parents do all that old folk dancing that so embarrasses their children. The night wears on. Kids are on parent shoulders, couples are arm in arm….and teenagers dance with their parents. This community loves to dance.

I love to dance. Dancing is a conversation without words. It can be an intimate conversation between 2 people, a giggling gaggle of friends, or the writhing mass of the whole community. It is connection, playful connection….and it does not require words.

This was my first Rendezvous without Jim. Did I miss him? Well, of course. Remember, I miss him everyday. Jim fell in love with me on a dance floor in Bend, OR. It was a crowded cowboy bar, he wanted to impress me with his swing dance ability, but there was no room. I grabbed him close and tangoed with him through the crowd. I guess he decided then that I was goofy enough to spend the rest of my life with him. Jim and I loved to dance.

When Jim and I married, we wrote our own vows, and designed our own ceremony. One of the songs was “‘Tis a gift to be simple.” I grew up with very different words to that melody, and knew of it as, “Lord of the Dance.” The words were: “Dance, dance, wherever you may be, I am the lord of the dance said he, and I lead you all, wherever you may be, I’ll lead you all in the dance said he.” Both sets of lyrics made it into our wedding ceremony. God….in whatever form you choose to believe…is present when people dance.

When my sister died, there was one song I played over and over. It was Jackson Browne’s “For a Dancer”. As I danced this weekend with my son, these words came to me as well. “Just do the steps that you’ve been shown, by anyone you’ve ever known, until the dance becomes your very own. No matter how close to yours another’s steps have grown, in the end there is one dance you’ll do alone.”

I spent some time this weekend visiting a friend who is nearing the end of his life. He asked about Rendezvous, and made me promise to never retire my red Converse. I danced with folks this weekend that will be leaving town at the end of the summer, and all of my son’s friends are now the gaggle of teenagers and not the shoulder riding, glow stick wearing kids. At one point I realized that by this time next year, someone in that crowd will have died. Someone will be mourning what feels like an unfair and untimely loss.

Life, in all its bittersweet glory, goes on. Let’s dance. I love to dance. It doesn’t require words.

About these ads
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Dance

  1. Deb Hieronymus says:

    And I’m gonna dance. Dance in my house with the Beatles playing sorrowful songs and dance with the Stones playing raucous, get up in your face bouncing boogie. I’m going to dance to Pink, Lady Gaga, Prince, Melissa Etheridge and what’s her name. Nina Simone put in the mix for some soulful sad songs strung out by a voice that hits me in the gut first, heart second. And when I reach that house on the hill, I’m going to dance more. Heart first, feet second, and head last. (Why let reason have the last laugh?) It’s much more fun to jump in a puddle just because it’s there. So dance until your heart breaks into twenty-two pieces, glue and duct tape them back together and begin again….

  2. Phil Druker says:

    Great post. Thanks for the dance! And keep dancin’

  3. Gerri Sayler says:

    Yes, the dance. Now you’ve got me thinking. Rendezvous dancing feels pagan to me, becomes a private meditation of letting go, whirling into myself, close to trance, rapture, reverie.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s