That time I went to CA...and danced

After dinner, chicken maybe?, there were probably greens of some sort, it was time to dance. I’m going to digress here. I man not, in fact, a good dancer. Anyone who has watched more than five minutes of an episode of So You Think You Can Dance or those two kids on Glee would have to know what a good dancer looks like. I do not look like any of those people when I dance.

I remember my first dance, in high school. I stood completely still for the entire night besides swaying to a couple of slow songs. As a senior, I remember briefly moving around to Semi-Charmed Kind of Life. Not for the whole song, mind you, but for some solid portions of it. After that, it’s a blur. At some point, maybe during the latter stages of college, I danced for fun a few times. By grad school, I thought it was a fun way to spend some time. And now, I always have a good time: I’ll dance outside to music with one friend or up on a table if it’s free. I’ll dance for hours without ever getting tired, in less the music is bad, in which case, if someone else reaches down to pull me back up, I’ll jump up on their behalf and get back to work.

We’re weird about dancing in our culture. I mean primarily American white middle class culture. We don’t know what to do with it. In fact, at my Christian college, dancing on campus was banned until the year I started out as a Freshman, because, you know, dancing=sex. I have a tendency to start watching portions of Fiddler on the Roof and wishing that we were part of a culture that didn’t think dancing was a strange and weird thing, only to be done on television by washed up has beens or in the basements of bars. Kids love dancing, and so I still get the chance at least once a week to slide around the house with Sades twirling around.

I’m rattling all this off, in part, because a couple of people at the wedding told me I was a good dancer, and I feel like I should be honest and say that I’m not. But I’d also be remiss if I didn’t share a few of the secrets that have taken me from standing on the wall for 3.5 hours( I am so sorry to that poor girl who asked me to that dance) to jumping into the middle of a group of strangers and loving it.

Dancing is supposed to be fun. I read somewhere about something called a “flow” state. Essentially, it’s where you are doing an activity that is challenging, but not too challenging, that also requires some attention and activity of mind and body. Welcome to a free flow session. Forget yoga, this will get your heart rate up more.

Rules

1.       You never look at someone else and feel intimidated. You are either happy that they are having so much fun dancing, which you can acknowledge by smiling at them, or, if you feel  really good, by dancing closer to them. The only scenario in which it’s okay to start trying to identify what they are doing with their feet, hands, body, etc. is if you’re immediately going to try and copy it. You should never be standing around thinking how damn good they look and how terrible you look in comparison. You’ve already failed.

2.       It’s fun to sing along to songs. If you don’t know the words, learn the chorus and throw up your hands or incorporate some sort of hand motion that corresponds with the choral lyrics. People will think you know the entire song. As I’ve mentioned before, the first time I heard Call Me Maybe, by the middle of the song I was miming writing down my phone number and passing it off to other dancers. You can do this.

3.       Tear up the dance floor. The best time to start dancing is when it’s empty, or just after someone else has started in. The earlier you get out there, the more likely you are to get a more productive flow state going. The only think you’ll be wondering about the people watching you is why they are so foolishly watching you when they could be having a good time dancing.

4.       If you make eye contact with someone, it is best to smile at them. Being in a flow state is not about shutting everyone else out. By smiling at everyone around, you’re letting them know that you’re having a good time, and that they should be too.

5.       Enthusiasm. This is related to three, but it’s probably the most important. You need to combine all of the above into a whirling dervish of dance. You need to be lip synching, doing something interpretative and smiling at everyone who looks at you. If some part of a song comes on, where your heart is on the floor, you should probably be pretending as if your heart is on the floor. If someone else is violently lip synching, go hold a pretend mic next to them and sing along. If someone is having so much fun dancing that you want to join in, engage them in a dance off Guess what? Now you’re a better dancer than at least 50 percent of the people there and probably more.

I’ve just expended a lot of words when really all I had to do was show you this video. In short, you want to be this guy: 

Note that the two relatively attractive women who see this kid dancing are loving what he’s doing while the “dudes” are the only ones who are too cool to have a good time. I’m guessing the two girls are more interesting to this amazing youngster anyway.

I don’t remember the songs at the wedding all that well, but I do remember sweating. I remember dancing with a group of older folks at the wedding who tried to encourage me to dance in the middle of their circle, and I pushed a couple of them out instead because obviously they were breaking one of the rules of dancing by not having more fun themselves. I remember watching my friends and their wives have a great time dancing, even those that don’t usually indulge. When I went back through wedding photos I saw around 100 or 200 or everyone dancing, and it’s one of the few times where pictures almost do the actual event justice.

The room was full of people of varying ages. Most of whom were engaged in the same task, losing ourselves in the music, in the sweetness of a moment that will soon pass. We were sweating and laughing, and moving our bodies as if, for once, they were no longer husks for carrying souls, but like the hidden souls themselves, flailing around in the brief light, so ecstatic to be alive.