As if it is something you can lose but today it is buried somewhere under my brain thinking too much about fundraising for a museum and my body feeling too much like a tired mom.
I dance. I have always danced. I love dancing. I grew up taking tap, ballet and jazz but that isn’t what I am talking about. I am talking about music thumping in blood and body thumping on earth. I did an impromptu solo to Lime in the Coconut at my wedding. I dance around the house with my bug every day.
When I dance, I feel unlimited and uninhibited and unleashed, whether in a wedding gown or in a birthday suit. Often, I look like a dork. While I am very Irish I am nothing like the straight hipped, straight haired folk who stand in a straight line and only move below their knees. I have curly hair and curvy hips and pretty much the only that is straight about me is my sexuality.
So, when my great friend, Gillian, a Dancer, was teaching an African-Brazilian class on Wednesdays nights, I was all over it. Not even cautious with my softer, less-flexible self and ready to get to the place I love when I dance. Plus it is super cool to see your friend in their element and she, wow, is a sight to behold. The first class rocked and I felt primal. And I haven’t been that sore in years. There is something about women’s insecurities post-birth–we have been to the most raw, open, painful, impossible place and well, other stuff that used to bring insecurity just doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. I loved it.
Tonight was my second class and I totally sucked. I was clumsy and self-conscious. I begged myself not to be but it was there. I promised not to be hard on myself when I looked in the mirror but I was. I rooted myself and opened to the grounded moves but I fell right out of it.
So in my first months juggling this whole new thing called Parenthood, I have been running or dancing or what-have-you along one steep-ass learning curve. And the centripetal force is threatening to spin me straight off my path. Today, I learned that I officially do not have time to do everything I want to do in a given day. Tonight, I learned that there is uncomfortable beauty in the painful moments; that even when off beat, I can shake and rock out and stumble and come out trotting back along my curve. Whew.
Also, coming home to a cute, sleeping bug and a big glass of red wine and a super charming husband and hilarious animals helps. Even lame-o Sarah Palin chirping away on NPR can’t sour my new found confidence in Tomorrow.
Nici,I have said this so often….you are truly amazing. I am stil waiting for you to write that book.