There's something about the holiday season - or, more specifically, fall and winter (from Halloween to New Year's Eve) - that is usually very busy, in terms most of us are familiar with: work, holiday prep, recovery, etc. For me, it's not just busy but also productive (I tend to get a lot done, from getting ideas for solutions to long-standing problems, to just taking care of some of those "I'll do that someday" projects). It's also a time for art, or at least, a bit of creative recreation, in several different venues.
One venue is the Dickens Faire. If you have never been, it's kind of like the Renaissance Faire, only Victorian, instead of Shakespearean, England, and indoors. And during Christmas instead of summer. It's basically a recreation of A Christmas Carol, with such details as my favorite place at the Faire, Fezziwig's Warehouse. If you don't remember the book, Scrooge goes back with the Ghost of Christmas Past, to visit his old kind and jolly employer, who threw a party every Christmas Eve with plenty of dancing. So, at Fezziwig's Warehouse, it's dancing all day. Specifically, mostly waltzes and set dances (set dances are those ones you see in Jane Austin or Civil War movies: long lines, couples moving in patterns), as well some polkas, which I skip. The polka, despite its silly reputation, is actually a very fun dance, but it's a bit tough on the knees.
Waltzing and set dances, however, are charming and elegant, and I do them whenever possible. What's odd - and what's great about living in a big city - is that it's not just me. There's an entire community of people here who also know how to and love to dance. And they own Victorian costumes - hoop skirts and corsets, waistcoats and top hats, the whole nine yards. I do too. Why? Pretty much because it's fun. It's living history, and it's fascinating. I love period books and movies, and it's just really super to be able to jump in to a real-life version of it.
But mostly, I love the dancing. It's far more fun that it looks, or seems like it would be. I mean, I think people tend to like, say, waltzing and dancing scenes in films - you know, the inevitable "ball" scene in almost any period drama (when the slim actress looks even more stunning with a tiny waist and a bustle). But if you think about it, objectively, what could be so fun about dancing? What is the waltz, really, other than just two people stepping around each other, again and again, for three or four minutes, to a piece of instrumental music in 3/4 time?
But, like sex, it's more than the sum of its parts. There's always a lot going on underneath the surface. As anyone who has done any partner dancing - from swing to salsa, from tango to ballroom - knows, the dance is a little mircocosm version of relationships. There's the art of leading and following, there's tons of unspoken communication, there's little jokes and inside moments, there's successes and failures, and there's even that moment, sometimes, during the dance when you both feel that moment of connection arise, and you both know it's there, and it's a little bit like falling in love. It's that "ah!" feeling of hitting the mark, and of doing it in perfect harmony, sometimes with a total stranger.
First, there are all the little things, the technicalities: your physical compatibility (height, weight, level of bounciness). Does he hold your hand with the right pressure or is he twisting your wrist? Tension in the arms - too much, too little, just right? I had one tango partner whose arm tension was so intense, my own arm would be sore after the dance. To partner dance, you have to connect not just your bodies, but also your energy and your rhythm - it's all part of the flow, and if you're sensitive to it, you can learn an amazing amount about someone from dancing with them.
Then, there's the dance itself, which is extremely complicated, even when it's simple. like the waltz. In the Star Trek Next Generation, when Data learns to dance, it nearly confounds him. He can do like a trillion calculations per nanosecond, but when he tries to keep the beat, do the steps and improvise, hold the Doctor properly, etc, he has trouble: "These are complex variables to coordinate," he correctly observes.
And they are. The leader has the added challenge of thinking up what to do and communicating it properly (a bad lead can create a botched move, resulting in anything from awkward silliness to injurious collisions with others), and the follow has the added challenge of being both responsive to the leader and yet responsible for her own movements. To follow well, you have to anticipate, but without any definite or fixed ideas about it. You have to be willing, flexible, ready to respond. It's very Zen, in fact, dancing. You have to both MAKE and LET it happen. You have to pay attention, but too close attention will mess you up - concentrating too hard on the footwork, for instance. Not enough attention and your mind wanders and then there goes the connection. Humans tend to like those perfect mixes of simple yet complex, repetitive yet improvisational - like surfing, or music jams, or cooking even.
In a perfect dance, you and your partner stay intimately connected. In my favorite dances, you get lots of that. It can express itself in many ways, from being aesthetically pleasing for onlookers (witness the success of those reality dancing shows) to eye contact (a skill, really, to be able to keep that up). I like the finesse of navigation: crowded floors of moving couples present a real challenge when you yourself are constantly turning and moving, but a really great couple can own the floor.
It's almost like being in one of those driving video games, when things are whizzing by and you think, wow, how much longer can I keep this up without hitting something? (In dancing, it's not good to hit something, as it's usually another person). I have leads that can go for and take us through almost any opening, even one that isn't there when you head for it but your lead knows will be there by the time you get there - you know, like Han Solo navigating an asteroid field. It's thrilling. Really good dancers can start to like the crowds, because the challenge becomes half the fun.
And it's amazing how wonderful dancing feels. We hardly do it anymore - partner or structured dancing is pretty rare, and it's a shame. It feels good, it looks nice, it's good for you and it create community. Set dances are great because they can be done by almost anyone who can walk, so you get an opportunity to do something social with people of all ages - kids, grandmothers, whatever. That's something that sadly diminished for most people once the extended family died.
So next time you get a chance to dance with someone, do it. It's almost impossible to be depressed or sad while dancing. Plus, if you can waltz, you will be so much better prepared in the event of accidental time travel to the 19th century.
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