Odd that such a forbidden object would now be connected to me. When I call my friend, she hears, “Dancing Queen” swaying from her cell phone. How was I kept from dancing for so long?
My church forbid it. If you danced, you were sinful. You had to make a choice of dancing at your daughter’s wedding, or continuing to serve as a deacon in your church.
I was a dancing closet queen. I felt an inner thrill as I watched the dancers in old musicals. Their dresses swirling and their partners leading them across the floor. Alone in my room I would move to the music. In fact, I found it impossible to hold still. One day, I woke up, and I realized that I had been told a lie. Dancing was not sinful. Dancing was a part of life.
Children seem to have natural rhythm. Who takes that away? What a terrible shame. I found dancing to be meditative. When I hear music and start to move in harmony with it’s melody, I forget my troubles. I forget the frustrations of the day. Hours can go by and I am still on the dance floor.
My regret is that I learned to dance so late. My body can only dance so long. Fortunately, my soul does not tire. Dancing is how I get through life.
Barbera de Angeles said, “The moment in between what you once were, and who you are now becoming, is where the dance of life really takes place.”