Dancing With Myself

In reading a sisterling's post, a notion of the chicken and the egg came to my mind regarding dancing and music.

For me, music and dancing are inextricably intertwined. If I had to choose one, either dancing OR music (perish the thought, and may it never come to pass), I think I would have to pick music. Because I'd love music even if I couldn't move, but I don't think I'd love dancing if I couldn't hear. I would love watching the fluidity of others move, and the synchronization of movement, but I would always feel like there was something missing.

This really came to mind the other day as I was at the film festival, and someone put together a music video for Billy Idol's "dancing with myself." See it here. I thought it was rather clever, myself. But the song and the video made me wonder if I dance because I love music or if I dance because I love movement. I'm always dancing...while I mop the floors, while I clean the bathroom, while I drive in the car, while I do the dishes, when I'm waiting for coworkers so we can walk to go get ice cream, when I'm making copies and there's no one around...

I had a roommate once who hated the fact that I turned up music and danced around. I figured she must have a dark spot on her soul to begrudge me this rather innocent pleasure. She'd say to me, "you're so young!" with a sneer in her voice. I was too spineless at the time to tell her that it had nothing to do with age - that when I'm 42, 36, 59, 64, and 71, and 89, and all the ages in between, that I'm still going to be dancing, as long as I can dance. And if I blow my hearing, I'm going to hear the music in my head anyway. And if I'm in a wheelchair, I can still tap my toes. And if I can't feel my toes, I can tap my fingers. And if I can't tap my fingers or move my toes or nod my head and I'm in a near comatose state and my nurse isn't there and I don't have my hearing aids in, I'm STILL going to have a song running through my head and my heart will be dancing.

So dance with yourself. Don't let snotty ladies in the grocery store or peeping neighbors or dark-spotted-soul roommates interfere with your communion with yourself. Just dance. Just listen. Just....be.