Tag Archives: dancing

Dancer

Dancer: (n) a person who dances professionally

In the world of fruits and vegetables, it would be pretty well assumed that string beans would make good dancers, but cantaloupes and pumpkins–not so much.

Matter of fact, when you see a rotund human dancing, it normally is on a YouTube, which has many views by people who find it hilarious to spy such a sight.

I don’t know whether it’s the mixture of the bouncing jowls in the face, the pinking of the cheeks or the extra blubber shifting like the tide.

But it’s pretty well accepted that those who dance on Broadway live on lettuce and smells.

So when I—more in the melon family of appearance—put on a play many years ago which demanded some dancing and found myself unable to cast one of the major parts, I was encouraged by the other cast members to take on the challenge, break down some barriers and hoof my way through the performance.

I’ve always been pretty athletic. (Candidly, when you’re fat, athletic can be walking through a china shop without knocking over some bullshit.)

So I learned the dancing, practiced it, and got to the point that I could do the numbers without completely gasping for breath.

But as I stood backstage on opening night, getting ready to make my entrance, hearing the mumbling of the audience, I was completely terrified.

All the stereotypical reactions about “prancing fat boys” raced to my brain and did their own little tap dance all over the state of my confidence.

And sure enough, when I entered the stage in my costume and began the shuffling of my feet that would lend itself to dancing, I heard giggles from the gallery.

I was humiliated.

I was frightened.

But I also realized that doing it halfway would only make it look worse.

So I sold out.

And—as often happens when one sells out—half of the audience admired the hell out of me, and the other half was pissed because I made them feel a little naughty about their judgment.

I am not a dancer.

At best I am an agile beach ball, bouncing on the sand—scurried by the wind.

 

Colossal

Colossal: (adj) extremely large

When do things become so colossal that small starts looking big?

Think about it.

If you keep growing expectation and projects to outdo previous endeavors, not only are you making the marketplace insensitive to the joy of simplicity, but you’re also taking immense amounts of money and energy to trump others, when in the long run, the population is unimpressed.

One of the perfect examples of this is that Hollywood may make a movie for a hundred million dollars and sell a million tickets at the box office, while Sandy in Mt. Gilead, Ohio, will grab her phone and shoot her cat playing with a ball of string and have two million views.

Somewhere along the line, we have to get back to the notion that human beings need quality experiences, not quantity that’s pawned off as significant.

There was an old song from long ago that had a lyric which proclaimed, “Little is much.”

I find that if I can simplify the beauty of life down to the germ of an idea and present its purity, it has a much better chance of being well-received than some over-blown, colossal effort which hides the intimacy behind singing, dancing, explosions and Transformers.

 

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Cha-Cha

Cha-cha: (n) a dance with Latin American rhythm

“Someone talked me into it.”

Those are the words that usually precede every horror story.

When I was in high school, some friends of mine wanted to go to a dance club because there were a lot of girls there and even though they
were not necessarily in favor of becoming “light of foot,” they were very interested in possibly lighting up some of the fine ladies.

So we decided to practice dancing–including the cha-cha.

I am large. I am pretty agile for a large person, but also self-conscious about swaying my hips and “jutting” in bizarre intervals.

My friends insisted that I looked great. They did this because they wanted to go to the club, and I had the car to get us there.

We selected to wear some fancy clothes–at least by the standards of our home town of fifteen hundred people. We arrived at the club, and I came in with the confidence of the Titanic. I mean the Titanic when it started its trip.

I began dancing and soon all those around me stopped to watch me do the cha-cha with this tiny young girl with auburn hair. I thought they were viewing because I was good, but actually they were stunned by the sight of such a portly fellow trying to do such tiny steps.

They laughed.

Is it necessary for me to say that no one likes to be laughed at? Yet running out of the room crying was not an option. Raining down fire from heaven ala “Carrie” was not available. But I got my revenge.

I just kept dancing.

After awhile, people got tired of staring, started moving themselves, and in no time at all, I was ignored.

There’s a lesson in there somewhere. Maybe you can dig it out. Here’s a clue:

It’ll have something to do with “keep dancing.”

 

 

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Backbone

Backbone: (n) the series of vertebrae extending from the skull to the pelvis; the spine.Dictionary B

It is what makes us Homo Erectus, which is really not a dirty term.

It means that we’re able to stand on two feet instead of crawl on four.

The spine itself is pretty important. People find out exactly how valuable when they accidentally break it.

But the term “backbone” is normally used to refer to some gumption that might suddenly come into the average person’s decision to be counted as something other than a sheep.

Matter of fact, I can tell you of a certainty, if you’ve never stood up for something eternal in a roomful of detractors, you’ve probably missed out on a particular portion of human growth that takes you from stooped over to standing tall.

Now, here’s the issue: what causes are worthy of such lonely last stands?

Because truthfully, there are many things that claim to be essential and are later declared either silly or maybe even dangerous.

I’ve always had a simple answer to that question: Anything that stifles joy is evil.

Now, I’m not talking about the maniac who joyfully murders people. I mean the basic units of human joy, which are:

  1. I am happy to be alive.
  2. I am happy you’re alive.
  3. I am happy we share this life together.
  4. I am hoping this happiness will continue.

Every time I’ve run across anyone who has tried to eliminate this glorious possibility, I’ve made a stand.

Many years ago, I wrote a play which included dancing, and I took it to some churches, where great objections were offered due to the fact that these evangelicals deemed choreography to be immoral.

I made a stand against them. I was one fellow in a room of 30 arguers. But I had no doubt.

Dancing brings joy. And “the joy of the Lord is my strength.” And since it appears in the very Bible that most of them thought they were defending, I thought I was on pretty safe turf.

Years passed, and dancing is now included in worship services of every denomination.

What is the new attitude which is stifling joy?

Find it. Get some backbone.

And speak for what will last … instead of being intimidated by what is popular.

 

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