Freedom

I discovered early the addictive feeling of dance. I think it came as part of my DNA.

My inhale exhale.

Handed down from generation of women to women - more than likely labeled as witches centuries ago with our red hair and hazel eyes. I picture them dancing softly around a raging fire in flowing dresses, arms thrown to the sky, smiling and swaying.

Both my grandmothers had red hair. Different shades but red nonetheless.

Both different women - one adventurous and crazy, outgoing and flippant. The other conservative, considered but kind and practical.

Both musical but as their nature’s dictated wild and free and cool and calm.

I guess I inherited a combination of them both, at least I feel I did.

Where their creative expressions turned to mostly music, mine was to dance, amongst other things.

My mind is creative, in dance, in word, in song, in pictures.

Wherever I go in the world I see a picture, when I hear music I envisage a dance, one written word can evoke a story idea. It’s odd but it’s me and I’ve struggled.

I’ve sat on the fringes of the world and observed and felt slightly other worldly. Not in a superior way, never that, but in a what am I doing here way. It’s unsettling but also very interesting on so many levels

I guess everyone has felt like this at one time or another, at least I think they have or maybe not but it all comes down to what we do with it I guess.

The truth is that my creativity is my thing.

When I dance I feel so happy and I guess I just blot out the world. I can see and feel it on the periphery but in my bubble the world no longer exists and it’s just me trying to express my story to the audience or the kids I teach.

It’s a sort of freedom where no one can touch, hurt, or affect you that pulls you in and you crave it. For after all the world can be difficult on any given day and just a minute away from that is a minute of relief.

It’s all about perception.

My husband is the complete opposite to me. All bustling practicality, sensibility, black and white. No shades of wafting colors for him and gosh I admire that.

He seems like he knows exactly where he’s going while me, I flit from one mad scheme to the next like a wild woman possessed. No Dream is to big or too small - all you have to do is ask and you shall receive. Some days I wish I was normal, but what is normal anyway.

The art of dance can be seen throughout history the world over. We celebrate with dance, we praise with dance, we pray with dance, we cry with dance.

Just the simple action of moving your body creates such beautiful endorphins that even babies and old men cannot resist when the time is right.

The amazing thing about dance is that while we are here on this earth dance shall continue. It’s inherent in most of us and this is such a comforting thought.

So even when I’m gone there will be people out there like me who dance around the fire with swaying arms, who will pivot on pointe, who will tap across a wooden floor, who will propose to the love of their life as they dance, who will dance in the street to the beat of the city, who will swing, sway, glide and turn, who will rock their baby to sleep side to side oh what an absolutely beautiful thought.

The freedom of dance - priceless.