My husband and I went to the hospital’s annual Christmas dance last night. We both love to dance, and we never miss it. He’s more free-spirited, as I have a tendency to get embarrassed easily if I feel like I’m not strictly adhering to social norms. But, I love to dance so I’ve never let my awkwardness get in the way. Although anyone who has seen my husband dance, must realize that it’s a pretty tall order to nonchalantly move to your own beat while he’s two-stepping, doing a Russian squat dance, a half split, or as he did last night, spinning himself so enthusiastically that he falls on the floor. He’s actually a really good dancer, not because he’s taken lessons, as our granddaughter does, but because he just listens to the music and allows his body to move with it. His lack of extreme self-awareness that many anxious people have, allows him to trust his body to move with the beat, something that even toddlers can do, because they have no inhibitions. For the rest of us, who sometimes feel a little awkward but do it anyway because it’s so much fun, I think it’s a good thing to practice being less concerned with what the masses think; because really, we all look a little silly at a dance, the watchers and the dancers both, so my thought is, I might as well dance.
However, it did occur to me as I was out on the dance floor, literally jumping up and down while doing the arm motions to YMCA, that I must look ridiculous. But a second later, I thought, “who cares? I’m having fun!” Having fun as an adult is not as easy as it was when I was a kid. Everything was fun then… well, a lot of things were. I laughed a lot, even at the silliest things. I would have thought that maybe it was the amnesia of time that made my childhood seem like so much fun, except for our granddaughter. She laughs all the time, mainly at slapstick comedy and things that adults no longer find funny, because by the time you’ve been on this earth for nearly half a century, fun and laughter are as precious a commodity as a good night’s sleep. It is something we as adults arrange, rather than spontaneously enjoy. We plan vacations, and day trips, excursions and experiences, all in the pursuit of fun. So, when it sneaks up on you at work, or with your friends, or your spouse, and you get that kind of unworldly experience of time standing still for a second, and you can almost see yourself as others are seeing you, laughing and having pure, childlike fun, it’s remarkable. “I’m having fun” you might think, almost in surprise. I found myself thinking that even after my husband fell on the floor. I could see the watchers watching, and for a second I was embarrassed, but then I wasn’t. I laughed, and so did he. I don’t know what the watchers did after that, because I stopped looking at them looking at us.
I’m sure that there are many different reasons why the watchers are watching. It might be because they don’t like to dance, or they don’t think they can do it well, or maybe they have had an injury preventing them from dancing or maybe they just prefer to be on the sidelines. Certainly, there is nothing wrong with that, and the fact that the watchers are watching, and not looking away, or getting up and leaving in disgust, and that they attended a dance in the first place, means that there is something about dancing that they are drawn to.
The dancers are just out there. They may have been half-dragged there by a spouse, or they might have gone willingly. They might be just swaying, and feeling awkward, and thinking that the watchers are watching and judging. They might have gotten caught up in the music, or they just might be all-in, and all-out while not having a care in the world even when they fall down, like my husband.
If the watchers are truly happy watching, then that is good, but if there is even a small part of that person, wishing that they could be as carefree as some, and not worry about what other people think, then the next time there is an opportunity, the watchers should dance.
Why? Because most people are too busy with their own concerns and fears to judge yours. It is the paradox of insecurity to feel unable to measure up, while assuming that people care enough about you to measure you. You know what? No one cares. Most people are too busy thinking about themselves to worry about what you’re doing. The dancers are not judging because they are too busy having fun. And if there are a few poor souls who feel the need to judge, then they will judge you if you sit out, or if you dance…so you might as well dance, even if you fall.
