Lesson Six: Just Dance

Just Dance I've enjoyed dancing for most of my adult life, though it has never been a passion of mine. Just an activity saved for concerts and weddings, always in the company of alcohol. Just moving around to some good music, having fun, it releases a lot of energy. In general though, I reserve my dancing for music that can actually move me, primarily hip/hop, R&B, funk, and ironic choices like ABBA (actually, I do enjoy dancing to ABBA, I just feign pretending to like it in some sort of convoluted ironic irony). The pulsating, regular electronic beats just leave me bored. One of the most beloved past-times on the bay was dancing at one of the many parties around the island, the most popular for my area was Guy's Bar, a party that began around 11PM on a Friday night and finally stops around 3PM the next day. When I arrived, I was told of the wonders of waking up early, around six o clock, and dancing through the sunrise. The thought of waking up with the sole purpose of dancing at sunrise sounded silly, especially when the chances of six beers was a little slim. My first Friday, I just stayed up all night instead, this made much more sense than going to sleep, during the biggest social event of the week then dancing in the morning when the party was likely to be petering out. Oh how wrong I was. Right before the sun came up, mobs appeared from nowhere: caves, treehouses, hidden bungalows a kilometer into the woods, all dressed in crazy costumes, tearing up the floor with a a dancing energy that seemed impossible at such ungodly hours. They were so free, so confident, yet I was so tired, I could barely move. I left that first week, wondering how some people could live in such a state, not caring what people are thinking, dancing in the morning, no drugs, no alcohol, looking so silly, yet beautiful at the same time. I learned quickly that staying up all night was not the correct method anyway; doing the same as the long-termers: waking up on Saturday mornings, before my breakfast and having a good dance to start the day, was fantastic. It left me so energized for the whole day. I began to quite love dancing, spending most of the day Saturday, just hanging out at Beam and walking over to Guy's Bar whenever the music got good. When my restaurant became the place to party for a while, going off most nights with the funky R&B I played, I was required to dance; this was my preferred style though, so it didn't take much to get me moving. After a while, I stopped caring what others thought; I stopped caring if the music was terrible or not, I just danced, because it felt good, because it was fun, because it left me surging with energy. My terrible little two step with shaking hips and that weird off-rhythm thing I do with my right hand, which JJ dubbed as "shaking the dice", didn't seem stupid anymore: it was just how I danced. Cause when you think about it, all dancing looks pretty stupid, but that shouldn't stop people from doing it. So, the most important thing I learned on the island was to just dance, no matter what. And yes, this is a metaphor for life, not really about dancing.