|It was Cornmeal's first visit to Montana. I hope they come back again!|
Friday, August 8, 2014
Cornmeal in the Kitchen at St. John's
Matt and I rode our bicycles over for a free concert last night at a local retirement community, the last of a summer concert series thrown there for the residents and larger community. The group that performed was Cornmeal—a tremendous (and I mean tremendous) bluegrassy, improvisational band from Chicago. I danced, as usual. But, unlike usual I got a lot of accolades--from strangers, mostly--on my confidence/bravery/audacity of being able to dance in front of a crowd with wild, carefree abandon. One person actually called me, "the epitome of modern womanhood." Another a "hippie goddess." Well, well, now! I was sure flattered and surprised by such remarks! Mostly because I was just doing my thing completely oblivious to the fact people were observing. I wasn't "trying" or anything. I'm glad they appreciated it none the less. I don't think I've ever been thanked for dancing before. Except by the band. In my experience bands like it when people dance.
See, I don't mind being the first one dancing. I don't mind being the only one dancing. I don't mind being the only adult dancing with the children. I just gotta dance. It makes me happy. More than happy, really. Ecstatic. Euphoric. Downright gleeful. Its one of my most favorite activities in the world.
When the music is right my feet cannot stop.
Even last night after they were both blistered from frolicking about on the rough brick surface. I just had to keep on bouncing, bopping, weaving, spinning, hopping, smiling until the last note was struck. Then I hobbled off with feet radiating fire. And it was totally worth it. 100% worth it. For that ecstasy.
I lose myself in the dance. Wait. 'Lose' seems such a negative word to use. Maybe 'find' is the better one. I find myself in the dance. The true me. The deepest, freest me. But, maybe 'lose' is right because there are times when I don’t really exist as an individual anymore. I am a thread in the tapestry of music, of life, of the spectacular, great, big ol’ universe. Either way I realize that all sounds very new-age and out there, but it’s my truth, my experience. Leaping and twirling to the warmth of strings sends me into the stars. It makes my heart swell in my chest until its so big it fill up the entire thing. It makes me thankful for every breath, every step, every blade of grass, every smile on every face.
So, I dance. I dance like no one is watching because it makes no difference to me if they are. I don't care. Don't get me wrong. I care what certain people think about some aspects of my life. But I never care about the dancing. Never. People can think me wild and crazy (and maybe I am, just a little). They can even think I must be on drugs (which, just for the record, I wasn't). I don't care. When the music is that good I just gotta dance, dance my little heart out.