The past couple of days, I've been lucky enough to stumble upon two activities that always used to bring me into a state of happy, blissed out flow. One of them I was 100% aware of, and have been telling myself I need to do more of for the past couple of years now; DANCE.
The second one I happened upon because I woke up this morning with an unlikely song stuck in my head; SINGING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS.
I'll start with dance, because it's the one that was always obvious to me.
I've been teaching dance almost non-stop since graduating from college in 2014. It's been amazing for keeping dance a part of my life. It's something I'll always be grateful to have the opportunity to have done.
But as anyone who teaches knows, teaching is vastly different from doing.
They say (who are they? I don't know) that those who can't do, teach. I'm not sure if I agree with this because I do genuinely love teaching. But in all honesty, I was teaching because I physically couldn't do. There were no decent adult dance classes or companies where I was living in suburban Connecticut, and despite going into New Haven to take a class a few times in those three years, it still was nowhere near the same intensity that I'd experienced when I was one thousand percent in the flow while majoring in dance in college.
Since moving to the Cambridge/Boston area, I've told myself that I'm going to use this proximity to force myself to get back into dancing for myself. Re-developing this practice has become extremely important to me, to the process of re-discovering my creative self.
On Sunday I pushed myself to go to a movement slam, like an improv session except for movement. People of all walks of life were there. Dancers, non-dancers, friendly, beautiful, artistic, open, inviting people.
Oh my goodness.
I was welcomed with open arms. I moved, jumped, shook, shimmied, rolled, and sweated all over these magnificent strangers, sharing our stories and our bodies and our feelings with no words. There is magic in this practice, if you're not a dancer, you can still understand.
It's that feeling of when you look at someone, really look at them, and try to know them. Smiling with your eyes and with your body. Two hours went by in the blink of eye.
There is a 100% chance I will be back to the next one.
This morning I woke up with "La Vie Boheme" from Rent stuck in my head. It was like it had just been dropped there from outer space, as I had absolutely no reason to be thinking about this iconic musical either last night or this morning.
But there it was.
When I was in middle school, the Rent movie came out and it was our world. I was in a close knit group of show choir kids; we were dramatic, artistic, weirdos. We learned all of the Rent songs, knew our harmonies, and would burst into song anywhere we went.
It's 2017, and I can't remember the last time I listened to showtunes, or belted for that matter.
I'm not a great singer. But I love to sing.
So at 6:30am I found myself belting and sobbing along to the entire Rent soundtrack on my forty minute commute to work. Then again, on my forty minute commute home. Not minding the traffic for once, not noticing the time going by. Feeling the music and the lyrics and letting the long ago memorized words pour forth from my body.
Waves of nostalgia flowing over me, remembering when we used to be so carefree, a bunch of twelve year olds obsessed with a movie about fighting the power, love, loss, and AIDS of all things.
In the flow. Setting my soul on fire.
If there's anything in this life that ignites you in a way you can't quite explain, especially if it's something that brings you back to simpler times (like holding hands in a circle with your eccentric friends, ebbing and flowing as you sing the round in "Will I") then it's worth remembering and it's worth making time for in your busy days.
It's worth it to feel your soul on fire.
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