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Folk Dance Federation of California, South, Inc.
DANCING WITH TWO LEFT FEET |
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Sometimes writing this column just happens. I get a thought and the words just flow. And, sometimes nothing happens. I would like to share a moment with you when nothing happened: a blank page is your friend. It is a stranger that comes into your life with a promise of lifetime opportunity. Treat it with kindness. Don't fight it.
Open your soul to it. Let it know who you are, where you have been, and where you dream of going. How are you going to get there? What will you see on your journey? How will you feel doing your trip? Who will you meet on the way? What are their stories? Where have they been?
And, when you get there, what will you see? As you cross the mountains, lakes, and rivers, look around. Take a stroll through the countryside. It is quiet, peaceful. It is even safe to close your eyes and daydream.
Suddenly, like a clap of thunder, a flock of birds darkens the sky as their chirping is drowned by the rhythmic sounds of drums and trumpets. The darkened sky gives light to a village filled with happy people moving in unison to the music. They are dancing to the beat of a Romani band. The smell of roast lamb wafts through the air. You join hands in the winding dance circle next to a beautiful girl. She smiles at you. You smile back. She says something to you, but you do not understand. It is a foreign language. You respond, but the words are lost in the noise of the music. She smiles at you. You smile back.
The music stops. She holds your hand and leads you to a table with her relatives. She offers you a glass filled with wine. They raise their glasses and toast you. You lift your glass and sip the wine. They laugh. One of them men offers you a plate of roasted lamb. You try to refuse. He insists. You reluctantly accept. There are no forks. You grab the bone and take a bite. The meat melts in your mouth. They refill your glass of wine. You take another drink. The music starts again and the young girl leads you into the circle. The beat is fast and you can barely keep up. You don't mind. The dance circle spins faster and faster. The faces are a blur. Slowly the village melts and you are staring at a page brimming with words. Your blank page friend is gone, only to return tomorrow.
Maybe some of the folk dancers out there would like to book a date with my blank page friend and contribute to Folk Dance Scene.
Printed in Folk Dance Scene, "DANCING WITH TWO LEFT FEET (20), December/January 2006/2007.