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.