I’m getting ready to Swing! (Yes, I do have two feet)

What better way to spend election night than dancing? It’s impossible to worry and swing your body around the floor at the same time, IF you value your toes. Paying attention is essential. Besides, frowning and music just don’t go together.

I knew that staying home to watch the election drama last week would fray whatever nerves I had left. Sooo… I put on a frock and headed out the door, fully embracing denial and keeping me calm for just a little while longer. [My writing friend, Dan Pedersen, touched on grieving the election aftermath this week in his Saturday morning blog, a must for those of us who need help in staying calm under fire.]

Dance: A Mood Maker

Dance has always been my therapy of choice, a godsend that has helped transform the bluest of moods over the years. Maybe it’s the people. Conversation is a welcomed distraction from whatever’s eating at me at the time. A room full of people sipping wine always produces happy chatter, and you can count on some of those smiles rubbing off.

Maybe it’s the music. It doesn’t matter what kind, most all of it make my feet itchy.

Or maybe — and this is my favorite — it’s just the dance. Twirling, swirling, sliding, and gliding across the floor puts joy in my heart.

I’m puzzled why more folks don’t take up dancing. But judging from their reactions whenever I talk about it, they seem to be intimidated. Watching good dancers maneuver fancy moves on TV makes them nervous they can’t measure up. The irony is they don’t have to. They never have to. Dancing is all about having fun, not proving you’re good. No one is watching and no one is judging… in the real world. It’s easy to forget that all those “good” dancers started at the beginning, and all had two left feet at the start.

Dancing with a partner is divine, but any kinds of dance lets your body flow to a tune that you adore. In The Mood from the 1940’s, for instance, or Barry White’s You’re the First, the Last, My Everything. Oh, how you can move to that one. But I digress.

Reality Check: Two hours after my news blackout, I walk in the backdoor and say, “Weeelll?” My husband looks up with the news. He’s not smiling. My gaping jaw managed, “what?” “WHAT?” “WHAT?”

Oh good, only three more days ‘til my next dance.

SECRET: Use Parks and Rec. or the Chamber of Commerce as resources to find beginning dance lessons closest to where you live. Or Google “Dancing” in your area to get started. Happy dancing!