Today I randomly started reading the blog . . . in a bottle. Genie is a friend of a friend and she hosts a participatory blogging project called Living Out Loud. While looking back over some of the past round ups I found this video post by Megan of An Acorn Dreaming, put together for the "Don't Tell Me. Show Me." project.
Click here to see the entry titled An Old Dancer.
Megan's observation that she started Irish Dancing "old" (24) and has only been getting older struck a cord with me. I started belly dance at 27. That's not old in the scheme of things, really, but by 27 I was starting to get a glimpse of what getting older holds in store for my body, especially when it comes to my knees. Some days I think, "What if I had started dancing in high school or college? Think how good I'd be now?", wishful thinking that I am sure has gone through the heads of many practitioners of many hobbies. I turn it around with, "Well, if I live until at least 60 and I keep up the dancing that means I'll have been doing it for over 30 years and that's a pretty good run." I also tell myself, "Shut up and be glad for each and every day you get to do something you love because you never know what's going to happen tomorrow, much less 30 years from now."
So perhaps I'll never be a fabulous dancer or do some of the crazy dance tricks I'd love to master. I do know that all I can aim for is approaching each day of dancing with commitment and love and passion. As Megan says: "I lay my heartbeat down on the floor every time I dance."
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