spynotes ::
  October 15, 2006
In thoughts and dreams

At what point do you become too old to dance?

I�ve been thinking about aging lately as I watch my grandmother slip further into the throes of Alzheimer�s, as I notice each additional wrinkle on my mother�s face each time I see her.

And it strikes me that there are two things we need to do to stave off aging: we need to be fearless and we need to dance.

I dance every morning while I�m getting ready for my day. I�m embarrassed about it, so I shut the door. Lately I�ve been getting fairly complex � the strength I�ve built up in the last few months of yoga classes is impressive. I can point my toe and swing my leg up to shoulder height and hold it there for a while, long enough to admire the straight line in the mirror and studiously avoid looking at the pregnancy-stretched belly that now has to be tucked in.

I used to dance a lot, multiple classes a week, multiple pairs of shoes, several pairs of pink and black tights drying on the shower rod at any given moment. When I hit puberty, I gave it up. I�ve always loved dancing, but I never loved the dancer culture, the self-hatred, the conformity, the dedication.

I�m not that committed to anything. I crave variety too much. It�s probably the same reason that grad school has taken me forever. I keep wandering off on tangents that interest me.

But I miss dancing. I also miss dance studios � all the sun and open space and wood. The smell of the rosin box in the corner mixed with sweat � I always sweated more than I thought I should.

Yoga has helped reclaim some of the joy of I found in movement, the pleasure in the stretch of a good pose. But movement with breath is not the same as movement with music. I miss that. I want to take modern dance for middle-aged people. But I don�t want a dance class that�s for thinner thighs in thirty days. I want a dance class that�s for dancing.

I wish my grandmother had danced more. She would be less frail. She would be less afraid, at least of falling. She would feel stronger and, I think, happier.

Control of movement is control of self. And control of self is control of fear. And control of fear is freedom.

Maybe that�s what I�m looking for.

This week I�ve been improvising my choreography to a mix of assorted acoustic guitar tracks. My current obsession is a jazz violinist Zach Brock, whose second album with his band The Coffee Achievers, Chemistry, is on my headphones a lot. It�s guitar-heavy, so it fits the bill. He blends his expressive violin track with a scatted soprano vocal line. It�s an interesting timbre and makes it sound like the instrument is speaking in a way that is quite different from Bobby McFerrin�s endless instrumental impressions. �In thoughts and dreams� is a good dance track. The Coffee Achievers are sharing space with Aimee Mann, Dave Carter, Pat Metheny, Ali Farka Toure, Jim Hall, Christina Branco, Ry Cooder and Mark Eitzel. It�s a nice way to start the day. Acoustic guitar is about space � space I wish I had, space I need to carve out. The voices are about me. Aimee Mann in particular is about me. There�s something about her voice that makes me feel like I�m the one singing. It�s an imaginary performance of my own creation. Much like my dancing in front of the mirror without an audience (I hope).

I have a friend who used to be a dancer. After hip and shoulder replacements and his ongoing struggle with HIV and plain old aging, he�s not dancing anymore. Maybe dancing isn�t the answer to everything. But he says he still dreams about dancing, about what it feels like. In his head, he is still moving and free. Maybe that's enough.

* * * * *

Sorry about the delay in the limerick contest. The outside judges are at an impasse and we are currently waiting for some kind of consensus. Thanks to all who participated. Results coming soon. I hope.

2 people said it like they meant it

 
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