Dancing

Have you ever seen a toddler dance? They bend their knees almost in time with the music. The cuteness factor is pretty much off the charts. But when you think about it, it's astonishing how the urge to dance is engrained into the youngest of our kind. Why is that?

There's something about a catchy bass line or a strong beat. Is it akin to a strong steady heartbeat? Is it a reminder of the strength of a loving father's heart or the sound of our mother's heart when we spent months in the womb?

Is it like a call to attention such as war drums or the march of the drum and fife? Is it a reminder of our instinctive desire for a passionate life and intense joy? Whatever it is, if most of us have a chance and the freedom to be uninhibited for a few minutes, we'll begin to tap our feet. Then we might clap our hands. That might, just might, lead to a burst of actually bending some limbs, swaying to the rhythm, or bobbing our heads.

What would it be like to have the joy and the mental freedom to dance like a toddler dances when the music hits us just right? What if we threw back our heads, threw out our arms, and twirled like preschool children? Would we be more joyful in general if we let ourselves experience joy in that way?

What if we began at home, alone? What if found the lyrics to our favorite songs and belted them out as loud as we wanted to and didn't worry about how it sounds? I guess we could start there. When did we decide that we need to dance and sing like professionals to do those things? Wouldn't it be fun to begin again?