The Loss of Dance

Dancing is one of the most beautiful, fun and soulful things that a human being can do. Dancing brings out a person’s inner joy, gives it physical form and expression, makes the body feel lighter and, in turn, lightens the mind and spirit. I don’t know how anyone can live without dance; I don’t know how I can.

Throughout my adult life, I have loved to dance. From the first awkward steps in junior high school, I began to discover that I had a little more rhythm than a lot of other guys, plus I loved good music, and the music of the day was perfectly suited for dancing. So I took to enjoying dance early.

At first, of course, I didn’t know any real steps – no one did. It was all freestyle, but it was fun. We just moved with the music (however spastic we looked) copied what others did or what we saw on television, and slowly developed our own moves.

Disco gave us the Hustle and the Bump, which were great fun, and having some real form made dancing even more enjoyable. I remember some of the best times of my early life that revolved around dancing: clubs and parties in New Jersey; Guam; Norfolk, Virginia; Monterey, California; and Japan.

When I returned to college after my Navy days, going to the local dance clubs was a regular weekend (and sometimes weeknight) routine for my friends and me. I still have vivid memories of dancing with friends in Washington’s, Fort Ram and other places. And I remember compliments I got about my dancing from onlookers in those days (especially one particular evening in Washington's).

Later, there were clubs and parties in Denver, and when I began taking business trips to South America, my feet got happy in a number of great Latin clubs in Lima and other places.

The Studio Experience

For a long time, I wanted to take dance lessons and learn real steps to couples’ dances. Finally, and with some urging from my daughter, I did it. I ponied up the bucks to take lessons at a studio in Aurora, Colorado, and I loved it. I learned Swing and Latin dances, as well as some Waltz.

I had the opportunity to apply what I was learning to amateur competitions, called Showcases, organized by the studio. I won a lot of first-place blue ribbons at the showcases and did “show routines” for fun.

Apart from those organized events, my studio friends and I went to local dance clubs to practice and have fun. It was a great time, and the moves I learned for couples’ dancing also helped me to add even more panache to my freestyle dancing.

For years before I started dancing at the studio, and throughout that time, I had been a committed workoutaholic – spending between four and six days a week at the gym for aerobic work and lifting. I was fit and my legs were strong; my gym “hobby” supported my dance hobby perfectly.

It was the peak of my enjoyment of dance – and life.

Slowing Down

They say that all good things come to an end. There is some truth to this, I suppose. Eventually, I just couldn’t justify the expense of my studio lessons. Over a period of several years, I had spent thousands of dollars. Toward the end of my studio dancing days, I started a new job. As my work became more demanding, particularly with extensive travel, I quit the studio and dancing fell into the background.

To make matters worse, age was nipping at my heels. Old injuries were reacquainting themselves through increasingly sore joints, and a few new injuries to my back and legs set me back further. I fell into a bad routine where hours of sitting replaced real physical activity. Working out became something I aspired to in words only, rather than a staple of my life. I gained weight – a lot of weight, which made it harder to get either to the gym or the dance floor. All of that combined with the Internet pushed dancing even further into the background. 

But I never thought it would be something that would fade out of my life completely.

Realizing the End

Of course, when we are young and enjoying life, we can never imagine the things we love fading out of our lives. We can never envision actually growing old. We can never imagine the changes that are inevitable, the limitations that grow larger and stronger as our bodies stop performing the way they used to.

This hit me last night when I was at a beach party watching other people enjoying dancing and realizing that I just could not do the same. My back, hip and knee just didn’t want to cooperate. They couldn’t.

At first, I tried to move with the music the best I could, to at least get myself swaying with the rhythm and get close to something resembling dance. But it just wasn’t happening. I couldn’t even get my sense of rhythm working enough to sway with the music properly. The spirit was willing, but the body wasn’t.

I felt very embarrassed to be there.

Maybe it’s my own fault. More than a decade of sedentary sitting in front of a computer, not exercising much, and eating way too much crap has added a lot of bad weight that destroys balance and weakens the muscles and joints that are so essential to enjoying dance.

Finally I decided to just sit and watch others, rather than stand in one spot looking either spastic or like a statue. And as I sat there, watching others revel in the joy of dance and remembering how I would never have let such an opportunity pass me by, I became sad. There was no anger, no envy, no bad feelings for those who were experiencing that joy of movement – I was glad for them.

But I was sad in the realization that I have lost something that had always meant a lot to me, and I never saw it leave. I neglected my body, the years took their toll, and my ability to dance was gone. I fear that it is gone for good.

Three years ago I tried to participate in a Tango class, and found that I had some of the same problems with balance and leg strength. (Blog post Beware of the Dance Floor Hazard.) But I still felt that I had my sense of rhythm and that it could be possible to lose weight and get back to some level of dancing again. Now, I don’t think it’s possible – it seems that I have lost it completely.

Even if I lose all the excess weight, keep exercising, and regain some of my lost strength, I don’t think I can ever get it all back. My back and knee are shot, and I don’t have that flexibility in my lower back and hips that is so essential to good dancing. If I could ever dance again, it would be only a shadow of what it once was.

It’s age, I guess, and I can’t help but wonder how many more cherished abilities will fall to the wayside in the coming years.

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The point of this post is that if you love dance or any other kind of special physical activity, don't take it for granted. Take care of your body – now! Keep it strong enough to be an able partner for the joyful willingness of your spirit. Don't let it rot to the point that your spirit can only sit and sadly recollect what used to be.