I don’t know about you, but some days the bad news just seems to add up and I’m forced to do something that might not be pretty but is absolutely necessary.
I am forced to get up and dance.
I’ve been known to close my office door, turn on Pandora, and dance my heart out. Why? Because there is something about music and dancing that shakes off the cloak of bad news.
Every day, our souls need to be encased in a body that is celebrating, wordlessly, the quiet joy that is our very existence.
The music does not have to be perfect. . .
When my children were young, we danced to songs on Sesame Street. We danced to Simon & Garfunkel’s Cecilia. We danced to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cartoon opening song. And once we started dancing, the music merged with the laughter that inevitably accompanied our movements.
We become a part of the air and the sunshine and the wind. We became our own wonderful characters, shrugging off the spilled cereal and the earaches and the lack of money. Materialism was irrelevant when we danced.
Dance wherever you might be, unless you’re in court trying to get out of a speeding ticket . . .
With some judgment, dance wherever you can. If you’re at work, go into the bathroom or a conference room. Bring your iPod, turn on a favorite tune, and dance for the duration of one song.
You’ll get more power in those few minutes than in an entire lunchtime of reading motivational literature. Because when you dance, your body gets to go along for the motivational ride.
The style doesn’t matter. I tend to break into clogging at some point, and I’m sure it’s not pretty watching my 54 year-old body bouncing all over the where. But it doesn’t matter, because my eyes are shut and my soul is singing.
I hope you dance . . .
If you’re having a tough week, or you hate your job, or you feel like a lousy parent, or you gained five pounds, or someone you love as just left, or you simply can’t take another piece of bad news . . .
Let it go. Hold out your arms. Don’t worry about how you look. Don’t worry about who’s watching.
Your spirit deserves it. Your life needs it. Your friends will be glad you did it.
For at least one minute every day for the rest of your life – I hope you dance.