Dance In My Room

Nietzsche said: "everyday I count wasted in which there has been no dancing."

I live in an age of chaos, confusion and alienation from truly knowing the flow of life. There is no time for intimacy. Life itself seems to be moving too fast, the phone rings, over-due library books, forgot to get the water from the grocery store, gas prices are up, the car needs maintenance and I desperately need a massage.

How can I possibly be a powerful women on the frontlines karate-chopping societal messages and pressures of gender stereotypes? How will I win the ongoing battle against oppression, brutality, poverty, and illiteracy if I don't make time for myself?

Dancing can carry one through the toughest of times; it even has the capacity to combat daily annoyance. It is the expression of feeling in movement - an art form of the human body. As such, it is temporal -- existing only in the present time and is always unique. No performance is repeated. And once it is done, it can't be undone; it stays living, somewhere in the heart of the dancer.

My body changes form, as I will it to shape the contours of my mind. I change from ordinary to enchanted. I transcend... I become beautiful. I am alone in my room, yet I am in a space outside of finitude where I move as a fairy to my own centric rhythm - I do not judge myself in my movement. I am truly connected with my being, both physically and mentally; tension is eased and fatigue is lifted, leaving me refreshed, aware, and receptive. I am connected to my life. I have been touched momentarily by indescribable joy. It is palpable and expansive. This is happiness.