Dances and Rhythms - 2

Dances and Rhythms - 2

     "It's all in the attitude girls - show some attitude!" I was determined to find mine.  One day, while performing the "attitude" moves, the ones that looked like the bump and grind of exotic dancers, I said to my partner in the mirror, "I've got it in here.  I just have to get it out!"  The others laughed.  Beside their floral-wrapped smooth sophistication, I was a misplaced fishing bobber in red stretch pants and a white top. Their high-pitched yells added to the mix of color and drums, widening our cultural differences.

     I boosted my efforts, closed my eyes, and concentrated on the beat.

     Suddenly, a tiny bloom of rhythm rose from deep inside.  It moved up and down my body, as I glided across the floor.  I opened my eyes to see.  The shock of my image in the mirror drove it away.  I tried again.  Another stir from inside - a sliver of something I'd never felt before...I melted into it.  Approving sounds from the room told me that I had joined them.  I sunk low into the tempo, not wanting to lose the sensation that tickled me from the tip of my spine to the base of my throat.  It was unusual to feel so relaxed.

     I had grown up sandwiched between two Patriarchal systems: my father's and the Lutheran church.  Raised without my natural mother and sisters or close friends, I didn't know much about femininity, had unintentionally skipped the formation stage of friendship and married my boyfriends in my search for intimacy.  After three divorces, the truth of my limitations finally hit.  I longed to nurture my own thoughts and dreams - unpack what it meant to be a woman, and bring my underdeveloped female self out of the closet.

Dances and Rhythms

It's been a little over three years since I lost my son.  He was the one who created this blog as a forum for my writing.  Today I will begin that journey with anyone who wants to come along...

Dances and Rhythms

     To break away from the tedium of graduate school studies in mid-life, I joined an African Dance Aerobics class at my local fitness center; however, I was taken back by the sensual dance moves we were asked to make.  They involved parts of me that I didn't know existed, and a mind-body connection that barely passed eleventh-grade sports.  But, I was prepared to challenge myself as the drums began, hoping to loosen up my aging body.

     "Is this how?" I gestured to the woman next to me.

     "You're doing great!" she said.

     For weeks, with the grace of a sack-race runner, I committed my body to the fast-paced tempo of surround sound drumbeats.  Unlike our instructor, who arched and gyrated effortlessly across the floor, my strides were stiff and forced.  Elena was all charm with brown sugar skin and an English accent.  She was a hummingbird.  She was a willow tree, her arms limb-like flowing around and across her thin body.  Mystified by her grace, I let go of awkwardness, turned once and caught an image of myself in the mirror.  Staring out was a thin-lipped, middle-aged, white woman.  She was a painful reminder of the fact that I'd never exercised regularly or played sports, and that my greatest ambition in life had been to visit the nearest library.

     "Come on, don't be inhibited," Elena called back, laughing.  I worked harder with no visible improvement.