Just dance

My parents are the greatest parents in the entire world. I can say that because they are my parents. They made sure that I had a childhood filled with many great and wonderful experiences. The list goes on and on - piano lessons, a trampoline, little league baseball, horseback riding lessons and of course - dance lessons.

I, like most little girls, had visions of grandeur - to be a beautiful ballerina on a stage, twirling in a tutu to beautiful music while everyone oohs and ahhs. So at age eight, mom enrolled my sister and me in a dance class.

Under the tutelage of Mrs. Bowers, I made great efforts to make my mark on the dancing world. My first jazz routine was to Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl." And boy was I ever! Every time I hear that song now, I can almost see myself in my purple leotard and shiny purple sleeves with the silver fringe, strutin' my stuff across that stage. Even though the audience was filled with people who had to clap and cheer, it was just as great as I had ever dreamed.

But life changes as you get older.

Unfortunately, my dancing career ended at the tender age of eleven. I am sure there were many reasons why I stopped taking dance lessons but the ones I can remember are not very good ones. Most of the reasons can be summed up into one word: insecurity. And even though I did a lot of other really awesome things like sports and clubs, I never danced again.

Until now.

In September, I enrolled in a beginner's jazz class at Ninth Street Dance. Now, every Saturday from 10 to 11 AM, I dance. At first, I was so apprehensive. I almost backed out a hundred times. I made myself write the check for the cost of the class and put it in the mail a whole month before the class started so I would have no excuses.

The first class was grueling. I had forgotten that I had so many muscles! One of our warm up routines involves holding a one-handed push-up postion for what seems like forever. Needless to say, upon my first attempt, I ended up kissing the floor, with a loud thump! But, no one seemed to notice so I picked myself up and tried again.

This past Saturday, our teacher watched as we worked through one of our warm-up routines and gave us each some individual pointers. When she got to me, I just knew she was going to say, "Give it up!" (Not really, but the disease of insecurity is a hard one to get rid of.) She pointed out that I was not letting my head and neck relax and because of that, my body was not following suit. She said if I would let my head go, the rest of the movements would be more open and fluid. "Your body will follow your head."

After that, I must have come up with a dozen reasons why I couldn't just let my head go. What if it hurt my neck or what if I fell down because of the momentum? How could I ever remember all the steps and remember to let my head go? What would the others think if I looked silly or what if I threw my head around so much, I broke my neck or something like that?! Then, it occurred to me that not only was I not getting the most out of the class, I was allowing myself to be controlled by the very insecurities that I had wanted to overcome by taking the class in the first place!

If I want to be a better dancer, I have to not only hear the advice of the one who knows how to dance, I have to DO what she says, no matter how insecure I might feel. That's life in a nutshell, really. Too many times I am satisfied with the fact that I have heard from the One who knows how to live this life. I let fear and insecurity rob me of the joys of actually living such a life. So what if I looked like a little grape in my purple jazz leotard, I was dancing and I was happy! Fear and insecurity had no place in my life as an eight-year-old, why should things be any different now? It shouldn't. I just have to remember, "Your body will follow your head," and see how it goes from there :)