sometimes i stop whatever i’m doing and start dancing. usually there is music playing. today it’s john mayer. i close my eyes and wiggle this way and that. sway. mostly from the hip. often i smile; laugh even. enjoy the freedom of moving like this in the middle of whatever i was doing in the middle of the day. sometimes i watch my reflection in the window or in the glass of framed art. i dance with myself following my own movements. watching my hands lift up and turn down. if my children are home they start yelling. “no dancing.” or “stop dancing.” “mooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” do you think it’s embarrassing to them? they don’t dance. i used to wince watching my own mother dance around her kitchen. i thought she looked ridiculous.
my children don’t want me to sing either!
it’s funny. my children are the two people with whom i am the most comfortable. they can watch me do almost anything. they watch me insert tampons and have bowel movements. they still try to pull at my nipples and squeeze my extra mama belly skin. i am free with them. no one else has the view they do. and so their resistance to my dancing perplexes me. they are aggressive in their resistance. angry almost. they attempt to still by body first with words, and when that doesn’t work they use brute force. they tackle me. so i pick them up cause i’m still bigger and dance them around the room with me. this often infuriates them. reluctantly i put them down and stop dancing.
i save up my dancing for when they are asleep. i do the dishes and dance in the dark and quiet of their sleeping. sometimes i dare turn the music up loud loud. at night my reflection in the large kitchen door (it’s mostly glass!) is clear. i dance wild at night. i know that my sweet old italien neighbours are probably watching me. they never say anything though. they don’t ask me to stop. sometimes i dance for them. i don’t have a curtain to close. and the kitchen holds most of my movements. i realize that i rarely dance in my bedroom. and hardly ever in the bathroom. it’s the kitchen that holds me.
dancing is my favorite yoga. free form flow.
once i experienced god dancing me. i don’t know how i let go of such control. but it was the most beautiful thing. it was like love dancing me. i did not need to know where to put my foot or how to twist my hip. the movement emerged up and through. i don’t even really know from where. on and on we moved together. me and love. there was no separation. for those brief moments i was the movement. i was surprised at what was happening. surprised at not choosing how to move. surprised at not caring how i looked. i enjoyed it. it is the most freely i have ever moved. the most free i have ever felt. it was one of those moments of pure bliss.
i wonder how to get out of my own way more. and let the dance dance me. let myself be like water. like the river dancing over stones. like love over everything.
beinglovely 
This was a lot of fun. I feel winded from having just danced the night away with you; and, I don’t even dance (all that often).
your postings here always come at the right time. xxxx s.
RELATIONSHIP DANCE, WATER DANCE
Chantalle, How lovely to read of your dance experience. Your revelry … Sigh.
I wonder if your kids feel proprietary over your body, and that perhaps if you ask them not to pull on you, for example, that they’ll begin to get a sense of “your-ness”, and “themness”.
I’m saying this because I found out that some people who were close to me turned out not to have a clear sense of their own boundaries even in adulthood, and me operating as if they did really did not seem to help – even hurt the relationships I had with them. So much so, that for a couple, it’s past tense.
After I figured this out, I had the opportunity to deal closely with someone else who had sketchy boundaries, made very firm ones with them, and the relationship went much better. It was a roommate kind of relationship, and we managed to end things on good terms. I say end, because I’m still healing from the unraveling of the other close relationships, so I’m choosing not to engage so as not to have to work so hard
– at least for now.
Initially, with this roommate, I operated as I would want to with anyone or them with myself and things just kept getting worse. Even when I’d ask for advice from other caring, supportive people in my life.
Different people seem to appreciate different engagement, it seems, even if it isn’t always what I would like.
Perhaps young people (and animals) can use some guidance in developing their sense of this. Kind of like some people I know who were brought up with no limits and always wanted some, it turns out.
I’ve even found some nervous dogs, particularly small ones, who have been calmer and much happier wearing a small T-shirt snugly on their bodies. (Maybe like Temple Grandin – who is an autistic scientist and author – and her squeeze shute.)
For me, learning respect for others also empowers me to respect my own space, and ask for what I’m wanting and needing.
I’ve been needing to learn much of this consciously as an adult because it wasn’t something that was on the radar even within my extended family.
I hope this makes some sense, because it’s only been clearer in the last 3 years and I’m learning more about it every day. Including today! [I learned that people’s emotional facial expressions don’t always register with me, when their behavior is incongruent or puzzling.]
This is the dance of My life, and it’s fascinating.
All these words don’t do it justice, but it Feels kinda like the dance you describe.
It was my bf who originally referred to our Relationship Dance, and I love it described this way. That really fits for me.