Just Dance

Following yesterday’s confession of my “love of watching”, I thought I would share my observations from this last weekend.

I spent Saturday and Sunday morning at the beautiful Lawrence Aquatics Center for my daughter’s swim meet.

These regional swim meets are big events, drawing kids from all over Kansas and Missouri. I would guess in the morning session there were 300-350 kids and about half that many adults. I am told there were even more kids in the afternoon session.

I intended to get some reading and writing done between events, so I did not do a lot of crowd watching. Of course, sometimes, the temptation is just too great to resist.

This particular event is designed to be more fun than the others. It is called the “Spooktacular” because of it’s proximity to Halloween. The crash area and the pool had loud speakers, with music blaring. There were also mystery swims, where the heat winners were awarded prizes. All in all, it was considerably more festive than the routine swim meets.

At one point, on each day, a song was played. It was one of those that give the dancers explicit instructions, i.e.: slide to the right, slide to the left, hop, hop, etc. It is called the something cha-cha. I do not know the name, but I do know the song. I remember it from other parties and know the kids love to get up and dance to it.

When the song came on, about two dozen kids, scattered throughout the huge gymnasium, jumped up to dance. Many tried to get other kids to participate, but some ended up becoming self conscious and sat down instead of continuing alone.

I noticed some kids really enjoyed the dancing and did not care about who might be watching. Some kids danced, seeking recognition and approval from their peers or parents. Some kids wanted to dance, but just could not allow themselves to stay up without someone to dance with them. Most sat and watched; some poking fun, some clearly wishing they had the courage to be up.

I thought to myself how much I loved that song, “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack. It has always been one of my dreams, for my own children, that they had the courage to get up and dance, whenever the opportunity presented itself.

As I watched all the kids, reacting differently to this “dance opportunity” I began to wonder when it is that we become so self-conscious. When do we decide that what others may think about us is more important than having fun?

I thought about the truth that once this “self-conscious awareness” sets in, many will never recover, for all their adult lives. Some will always sit on the sidelines and refuse to dance; refuse to appear silly; refuse to take a chance.

My wife said it is around puberty that we begin to develop these insecurities. I think it is different in each child. Some children will never develop these tendencies and will remain gregarious extroverts right on into adulthood. Others will shrink into their fears and continue throughout their lives with their songs unsung. Most will be somewhere in between.

When we reach the end of our walk, on this earth plane, we are far more likely to regret the times we wanted to dance, but just did not have the courage; than we are to feel sadness over the times we risked and looked silly.

Getting up and dancing is a metaphor for taking the chance to express whatever is burning inside of you.

I promise that the kids who jumped up and danced, oblivious to the staring eyes, felt a joy not experienced by those who thwarted the same desires.

So it is in our lives. We will never be complete until we sing our songs; until we dance our dance of joy.

I am tickled to be in this wonderful waltz with you!