Dancing.
I'm not what you would consider a good dancer though.
I am a great dancer.
My dancing isn’t traditional. I didn’t graduate from dance college. You’re not going to see my moves in an Usher music video. But when I get out on that dance floor, any dance floor, I move to the music like it’s my life’s purpose. Like it’s the only thing that matters. Every rhythmic beat, every pulsating thump invades my being and possesses me to move in ways that no man should move. My body contorts itself into various figures and shapes, convulsing and undulating under the flickering lights, limbs flailing, head whipping back and forth. I bring an undeniable energy to the dance floor. Energy that inspires and invigorates others around me. It is infectious.
I'm not being cocky. I'm just being me.
Some would disagree. Mainly, those who try to dance with me. I'm a great dancer, but I'm a terrible dance partner. Or maybe it's that I'm a great dancer, but everyone else sucks?
That's probably it.
I don't know what it is. I can never quite match up with others when it comes to dancing. Either she moves too fast or he takes too many steps or I've had three too many whiskey gingers.
I have my own dancing style. It's frantic. It's frenetic. It's me.
It doesn't mesh well with others.
And I'm ok with that.
Because dancing isn't a competitive activity. I mean, I guess technically it is if you're like in a drill squad or you're a group of ballerinas auditioning for something (a flock of ballerinas? a squad? what's the collective term for those who like to partake in ballet?). But drunk dancing, the kind of dancing you do on the sticky 3x6 square ft. hardwood floor of a dive bar at 1AM? That's a team sport.
You know how you can shout at a pigeon and your shouting is loud? And you know how if two people shout at the same pigeon, it's even louder? And how if a group of people start shouting all at once, in their own unique voice and shouting style, at that same pigeon, the noise is deafening and the pigeon flies away?
That's dancing.
Only our dance moves are our voices and the pigeon is our anxieties and concerns.
A person grooving individually is loud, but put several sweaty, gyrating blobs of flesh in the same space, turn the volume up and you're going to end up with something magical, something that sends flocks of pigeons scurrying for cover.
Dancing is pure energy in physical form. A manifestation of everyone's power and beauty and grace and strength. When I dance, there is limitless power. I can move like this or I can bend like that. Look at me, moving, occupying this space, being here, being now.
I dance in the shower. On the way to work. While I'm making a spinach-and-mushroom omelette for Delma. Because I can and because it’s me.
Dancing with others just amplifies that. It's dancing to the nth degree. The energy put out exponentially increases by a factor of however many people are dancing around me.
Dance in numbers, y'all.
So, yeah. I'm a great dancer. And you can't keep up with me because you're not me. But you, too, are a great dancer. In your own way.
Let's dance next to each other. Not together. Just in the same vicinity. Because your energy combined with my energy creates. Creates what, you ask?
Who knows. Who cares. Just dance.
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