This post was going to be about the importance of shaking your booty. I love to dance. I wanted to be a dancer when I was a kid … back when I had some balance.
Dancing is cathartic. It connects you to your body and mind, as well as to your heart and spirit. Obviously, from my last post, music means a lot to me. Dancing is a way to connect to that music beyond just singing it or hearing it. You feel it.
I’m actually considering adding in at least 30 minutes or so of dancing to my routine. If not every day, at least once a week.
In addition to that connection to yourself and to music and to everything that is, dance gives you a sense of power and freedom. Or it does me. I don’t care if you’re flailing about or if you’re as graceful as a swan. My body changes when I dance. The way I hold myself. Plus, it just feels good. It makes me happy.
But today, I went to Pilates class. We had some folks in from out of town. One woman, I suspect she was in her mid-20s at the oldest, but everything about her felt so much older. She was rail thin. You could see every bone in her body. Now, this is not coming from a place of judgment so much as a place of concern. I told myself perhaps she’s ill or that’s just her body type or perhaps that’s the weight that makes her feel strong.
It was a dancer’s body in many ways. Sinewy. Birdlike. Slightly on the frail side because of the small bone structure. There is obvious strength in her body.
My concern came from her posture. She kept her head down. He shoulders slumped. Her tail was tucked underneath her. Everything about her curled into herself.
If you’ve ever seen an animal that’s been beaten and abused, that was the posture she had. It made me sad for her. Of course, I didn’t know her and I am jumping to conclusions but body language says a lot. You can tell when someone is not fully connected to their inner strength.
I wanted to give her a hug. I wanted her to hold her head up high. I suppose it’s wrong to say that. We women have it bad enough as it is. In my defense, my intention is good, even if it sounds judgmental. As someone told me on here, good intentions don’t always have good results.
To be honest, she was stronger and fitter than I am … and I’m no slouch. I was the one being corrected on my shoulder blades moving, not her. But her stance, her posture made me feel sad. I don’t normally claim this, but I sensed how she felt. Or at least I thought I did. Her demeanor made me feel like curling into myself or projecting some of what’s inside of me out to her.
And I’m shy. We’ve had this discussion. But my shyness doesn’t necessarily come off in my posture … not generally anyway. It depends on the circumstance. That’s probably why people say I seem cold and aloof. I’m quiet, but I have some strength in my posture.
But my intention was to uplift her. To give her some strength … when in reality she may not need it. It is just a perception based on body language. Let’s face it, though, our brains are wired to notice those things first and notice them more than what is said.
I wanted her to strike a Wonder Woman pose. Back straight, legs set apart, hands on hips. I stand like that more than I should. In fact, I took a ballet class earlier this year. I stood like that in class as the teacher was giving instruction. He told me my stance was aggressive. Well, I guess that’s who I am. I dropped my hands at the request of the teacher, but I didn’t go back. Nobody puts baby in the corner, I suppose.
Part of my whole thing about this mind-body connection is that we should feel stronger in our bodies. When you feel stronger — whether physically you are or not — it changes your posture. It changes your outlook. I could be entirely wrong and this woman is the strongest person in the world. I will never know that. But, her posture will never present that either. For me, that’s unfortunate. For others, it may not matter.
This, however, does bring me back to dancing. I recommend dancing for that reason. Do it in private with no one watching if that gives you your power, but find your power. Even if your power isn’t noticeable to everyone else, you will feel it. When I dance around, I feel more like Mick Jagger on stage. Or if I’m bold I try to be Baryshnikov.
It doesn’t matter how I’m dancing or how well I do it, it connects me to my strength. Even if I spin until I’m dizzy or trip over my own feet — yes, I do all of those things — I feel happier and stronger.
So get your booty on the dance floor … or the living room floor. Wherever. It’s amazing what a little rump shaking can do for your mood and your confidence.