Dance Like You're Dancing for Someone You Love

I was flipping through TV channels one night and stopped on “Dancing with the Stars.” What caught my attention was that Laila Ali, daughter of boxer Muhammad Ali, was one of the dancers.

It so happened that her father was in the audience that night. It was obviously a physical strain for him to be there, yet he wanted to be present to watch his daughter dance. Before dancing, Laila talked about what it meant to her to have her father present. She was so excited to have him see her dance and obviously wanted him to be proud of her.

There was something especially poignant about Laila’s dancing that night. The dance floor seemed charged with emotion and meaning as I witnessed both her beautiful dancing and the joy and pride shining from her father’s face as he watched her. The great boxer had tears in his eyes and his face glowed for his daughter.

I attended a wedding a couple of years ago where the bride danced for the groom as part of the wedding ceremony. As a guest it was an incredibly intimate moment to share with this couple. The bride glowed as she moved gracefully for her groom, love and intention communicated through every movement, through every beat of the music, every word of the song. The dance was truly for him and him alone, the rest of us may as well have disappeared. Somehow, though, the dance was also a public declaration, a public celebration. The guests at the wedding were witnesses of the giving and receiving of a very personal gift. To watch the groom’s face as he beheld his bride, as he received this gift of dance from her, oh, it was a wondrous thing!

The tradition of the bride and groom’s first dance is an extension of this concept. They publicly share their first dance as husband and wife, dancing together joyfully and proudly; their parents, sisters, brothers, cousins, and friends looking on with pride.

I have begun to explore this concept. How does it change my private dance, my attitude about my body and dancing, when I dance as though I am dancing for someone I love? I never danced with my father, at least not that I can remember. He died when I was nineteen. I have never danced for my husband; with him, sure, but not for him. He’s still around, so I have no excuse, except for my own bashfulness.

I have an innate desire to make my father proud. So, to imagine dancing for my father is very powerful for me. The emotions are many when I dance like I am dancing for/with my father. Contributing to the depth of these emotions is the fact that I had only a short time with him.

Thankfully, I have a positive relationship with God as my Father, and so I can experience dancing for – and with - my Father in that way. This makes for a very powerful dancing experience. It is dancing as an act of communion, worship and gratitude.

I honestly never thought, until just this moment, about dancing for my mother. Not sure why this hasn’t every crossed my mind before now. My gut feeling is that dancing for my mother would be with the intention of celebrating her as a woman and mother, and what she has given me as her daughter.

As far as dancing for my husband, well, I will meet that challenge at least once, sooner or later. I’m going to have to ease into it, though. And this is certainly interesting to ponder. Why would it be so challenging for me to dance for my husband? My goodness, we’ve been married for 23 years and together for 27. He’s certainly seen me at my best, my worst and everywhere in between. Yet, there is something incredibly intimate and …scary, exciting, weird, silly, strange, wonderful … to think of dancing for him.

To be honest, at this point in my private dancing experience, I can honestly say it is a unique experience – and a bit of a personal stretch - just to dance LIKE I’m dancing for someone I love, let alone actually doing it. I am loving the personal growth that is springing from the act of “dancing like” and that is okay for me for now. I’ve given myself permission to imagine it out, whether I ever act it out for real or not. (Side note: Sometimes I think we limit our imaginative experiences because we think that they must be made real at some point in order to have value. Ah, I sense a future blog entry here…)

Dance like you’re dancing for someone you love. It will touch your heart in ways you may never imagine.

Sharing the journey,
Kelly