It Don't Mean a Thing if it Aint Got that Swing

So here I am in my professional portrait studio getting ready for the dance.

Way back in shy girl history, I dreamed about swing dancing. Now I finally live within only a few miles of a swing dance place. Hit it Duke.

I almost stayed home and marinated in stress until it seethed into a sticky carmalization that would hold me down like tar. But all that don't mean a thing when you're dancing.

All I had to think about was the steps, moving to the rhythm, and flying from one dance partner to the next. It was fun. It was dance lessons. After that was over, the real dance began and I sat back and watched. A girl in a wheelchair seemed to have stronger legs than me as she lit up the dance floor.

Inadequacy is something that's in our minds. Why should our faults hold us back?

Just as I was thinking this, a spunky old man with missing teeth, who smelled like alcohol asked me to dance. Okay, so that's not exactly what I had envisioned, but it was still a fun time over all.

Was the dance the stuff dreams are made on? In the Shakespearean sense yes. It potentially was full of sound and fury and signified absolutely nothing. Even though it felt exhilarating for a moment, in the end, when I got home my life was the same as before. But these dances, these moments, are the stuff life is made on--fleeting as they are.

"These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep." -- The Tempest, William Shakespeare


"The way we are living, timorous or bold, will have been our life." --Seamus Heaney 

Until next time,

Namaste