The Saturday mornings of my youth were spent dancing to the funky rhythms with the Soul Train gang, and wishing I was black. It was 1971, I was fourteen, and as Soul Train made it’s television debut, R & B had long since invaded my being, and created my love of dancing and music. By the time I got to college I was in the dance clubs four nights a week, but my rhythm and love of music began much earlier. As a very young child my mother would play her old Latin records on the stereo.  We would dance rumba, meringue, and a form of salsa with abandon until one too many swigs of Scotch turned her spirit away to the darkness.  She descended from the warm memories of being the female lead singer in a Latin band in 1940’s New York City, to her present pain and unfulfilled reality of a screwed up marriage, four kids, and suburbia. The fun would stop when the Scotch started, but the music played on inside of me, in the deepest places that no one could touch.

I danced my way through college and the entire decade of my twenties, to the throbbing beat and haze of drugs in the gay club scene in Ft. Lauderdale and Miami.

Dancing and music have always been how I identify the real me, the base beat pounding a constant compass for my artist self. When the music starts, I’m the first one on the dance floor, too joyful to hear the naysayers waiting to be asked to dance, and waiting to join life’s party. Come to think of it, dancing is a lot like life isn’t it? There are those of us who long to “bust a move” and don’t care about the right song, or whether someone asks us to participate, or volunteer, or show up for the dance. They stand blankly and hesitatingly on the side of the dance floor condemning those of us who are joyfully participating with the throng of gyrating dancers, their rhythmic gifts on display for all to enjoy. Smugly they claim no one has asked them to dance, even though they’ve been coming to the same club for almost two years, give or take.

I found a new dance club this year when I heard their music via the Internet and the Livestream. They were playing my songs.  When I finally had the opportunity to visit the club for the first time, I noticed a lot of different dancers and a lot of different music being played. But most everyone was dancing to all the differences, and lovingly so, joyfully so.  I love this new club and the array of dance styles, so I decided it would be my new home. I dove right in, and danced my way onto the floor, and I’ve been dancing to almost every song and loving it. But as dancing is a lot like life, so too are some of the people who go this club. Someone standing on the side of the dance floor, waiting to be asked to volunteer, I mean dance, questioned why I was dancing so much, and who did I think I was dancing to almost every song. My heart sank when I heard this, and I realized these people probably have never known the joy of dancing. But I also realized that being hurt or angry can affect my dancing, and what’s more, can affect my ability to help them get onto the dance floor.  So I will continue to show up at the club, and when I hear the music, I will dance. I know why I’m a dancing fool…because I have wasted so much of my life with fear and self-hatred that I have to dance with reckless abandon now that they’re playing our club’s theme song, “We Are The Beloved”. Have you heard it? It is the most fantastic song ever. I dance because of the joy I feel when I am dancing, plain and simple. I was made to dance, and so are those of you still standing on the sidelines. Don’t wait to be asked to dance, just meander onto the floor with the rest of us, and if you don’t know any good moves, it’s ok.  We’re so busy having fun dancing, that you will be swept up in the power and love that dancing with your club friends can bring. Come on just jump in. There’s no right or wrong, just dancing with a purpose, and that purpose is to bring joy and meet needs as they arise.

The motive for my dancing is so simple, the music is playing and I want to dance, that’s it. I don’t care who puts my picture on Facebook, I don’t really want the attention. After all, there are WAY better dancers than me, I just want to be part of the dance club and be the best dancer I can be with whatever time I have left to dance. That’s it.  I don’t really care what song is playing, or who the DJ is, or any of the details that go into making a great club experience.  I just know the music is playing, and I don’t want to waste my dancing skills standing around waiting to be asked or acknowledged when there is so much dancing that needs to be done.  So why not join the dance, shake your groove thang, and enjoy the party?  Life is too short not to dance, and the Soul Train has pulled out of the station.