This Sunday afternoon at Sunset Junction Music Festival, I was soaking up Martin Luther’s genre-bending R&B/rock ‘n’ roll/pop music. His luscious lyrics - just to be alive is a reason to ride/ don’t give up the spirit of the phoenix/ RISE” – struck a chord somewhere deep in my expanding soul. As I watched the clouds behind the stage spread out in magnificent formations, I felt Martin’s songs reverberate from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
I am the person at a concert who needs a little extra space – a sort of buffer around me, because I jump, spin, and get down to the ground whenever the music dictates that I do so. I have a compulsory physical reaction to music. Sometimes, when I find that I’m the only one moving, I wonder how people around me manage to stay so still. Are they consciously stifling this urge to take the music inside them and transform it into a physical impulse? Or inside their bodies, is there no trigger for the music to activate? Does it simply enter and flow through and out undetected?
I remember the first time I understood what it was to really dance. It was at a little event in Tempe , AZ called Wicca Wednesdays. It was a weekly gathering of hip-hop DJs in a strip mall bar. I went by myself one week and stood like I normally did, drink in hand, doing a little swaying and head bobbing. I was tapping my feet, shifting side to side, moving my hips like so. The music gradually elevated into a realm I wasn’t familiar with and before long it made a connection somewhere deep inside me, in a place that felt spiritual. That night I learned what freedom of movement was. I learned what letting go of physical inhibitions meant. I learned to tap into a higher power that reaches out to us through music, and in my case specifically, through good dance beats. That night changed my life.
When Sarah Silverman was asked what kind of music she likes, she said, “Anything that sounds good in my ear holes”. I couldn’t have said it any better. But I could add “anything that makes my body move” whether it’s my own version of ballet dancing to classical, pop-locking to hip hop or jumping up and down to some live guitar. If my body reacts to it, I know my soul is opening to it and I just ride the wave that comes my way.
I am the person at a concert who needs a little extra space – a sort of buffer around me, because I jump, spin, and get down to the ground whenever the music dictates that I do so. I have a compulsory physical reaction to music. Sometimes, when I find that I’m the only one moving, I wonder how people around me manage to stay so still. Are they consciously stifling this urge to take the music inside them and transform it into a physical impulse? Or inside their bodies, is there no trigger for the music to activate? Does it simply enter and flow through and out undetected?
I remember the first time I understood what it was to really dance. It was at a little event in Tempe , AZ called Wicca Wednesdays. It was a weekly gathering of hip-hop DJs in a strip mall bar. I went by myself one week and stood like I normally did, drink in hand, doing a little swaying and head bobbing. I was tapping my feet, shifting side to side, moving my hips like so. The music gradually elevated into a realm I wasn’t familiar with and before long it made a connection somewhere deep inside me, in a place that felt spiritual. That night I learned what freedom of movement was. I learned what letting go of physical inhibitions meant. I learned to tap into a higher power that reaches out to us through music, and in my case specifically, through good dance beats. That night changed my life.
When Sarah Silverman was asked what kind of music she likes, she said, “Anything that sounds good in my ear holes”. I couldn’t have said it any better. But I could add “anything that makes my body move” whether it’s my own version of ballet dancing to classical, pop-locking to hip hop or jumping up and down to some live guitar. If my body reacts to it, I know my soul is opening to it and I just ride the wave that comes my way.
I notice the others that do this too. I spot them, get near them and let their energy mingle with mine until we’ve created something larger than the sum of persons involved. It’s not hard to do when most of these soulful dancers are dripping with excess positive energy and joy. It is contagious and I soak it up.
When you’re dancing without inhibition, there is a focused connection happening between you and the music and nothing else. There is input (the beats) and there is output (your sweet ass dance moves) and in certain lucky moments that is all there is. Ego goes away and it takes worry and fear with it. Mr. Miyagi said, “Never trust a spiritual leader who cannot dance.”
And Agnes De Mille – who had a few things to say about dancing – said, “To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful.” So why, may I ask, has anyone ever bypassed an opportunity to get down? Why miss a chance to sing, pray, love and give thanks through your feet? If you think dancing’s not really your thing, maybe you haven’t met the music that melts your ego yet. Keep searching. The rewards will be immeasurable.
