Tuesday, 30 March 2010

My dad is a dancing God!

Jokes aside, my dad is a dancing God. Every child admires and worships their parents with some fluctuating intensity as they grow. There are innumerable ways we ape them, simultaneously trying to filter out the less appealing traits of course. I was no exception, much the contrary. Beside wanting to measure up intellectually, spiritually and all other possibly vitreous ways there could be, I wanted as badly to dance like him one day. To dance with him. My father a successful corporate executive, somewhat ill-humored, who despite his humble origins pushed himself through the layers with sheer drive and grit, playing fairly and teaching us the value of merit and integrity, is a god on the dance floor! I seek today, after all that he has already taught me, the lesson that is still pending.

Having pointedly involved myself with the matter of dance off late, I am slowly starting to realize what it might mean to him, to people like him who derive so much from rhythm and music. 'Is it just a good workout?', I was once asked. Is dance hot because it's erotic? I would say neither of these quite fit. It is happiness, first and foremost, and rating it any less would be such a shame. The act of expressing your feelings through your body is thrillingly liberating, exhilarating. To dance like my dad is to shed your inhibitions (which God knows he could barely do elsewhere) and submit to this simple, effective form of therapy. What you feel is what you dance and what you dance is what you feel.

Yesterday at dance class, I got spun around upside down. My friends looked for me on the dance floor and found feet in the place of where my head should have been. Needless to say, a fair measure of trust must exist towards your dance partner, especially if you're planning to defy the laws of gravity and such.
So people, try and give the evaluating, analyzing area of your brain a break every once in while. Let your feet connect with the rhythm of music every once in a while. You'd be surprised, once you let it work, how damn good it feels.

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