I will dance in my next life, I declare to my friend and future dance teacher, Tracey. I have just exited by story, my marriage and I want a space to place my energy and newly emerging passion for life. Why not give dance a go this round, she suggests. Hmm, lets see, because I don't think I can dance. My soul wants to, I know it, I can feel it when I hear certain music, but my body will not cooperate. I did have a couple of invitations to bring dance into my life, early on. I was signed up for ballet at 6 and after a coupe of weeks of hanging upside down on the barre, the teacher gently suggested a tree to climb may be a bit more appropriate use of my excessive energy. My Mamma's art teacher, Helu from Astonia, and her dashing husband offered ballroom dance lessons to my twin and I when we were 13. For several Sundays I Fox Trotted and Swung around their charming living room. I was the boy, my twin, a little more petite, was the girl. I still have a hard time "following" as my training started as the clumsy lead.
Fast forward a few years and my father is quietly and intensely reviewing my grades from University. I worked very hard for a highish GPA and needed a break. What was the curriculum for this Chicano Studies 101, he asked, not looking up. I had managed to hide my tattoo (for two years) so presumptuously I thought I could pull off this angel/devil coin flip choice as well. That's my pass/fail Mexican Hat Dancing Class that I barely passed due to Spring Quarter fever, I say to myself. To him, I share, well, hmm, it was a physical exploration of Chicana culture. I needed a culture credit, I add. What I mean is the fraternity down the street has 22 young darling men enrolled, so I signed up. I wanted to dance with them (again to myself). My main partner had sweaty palms but he certainly smelled divine, like peeled oranges. And I received an invitation to their soiree dance with sweaty orange peel guy. I am not coordinated though I did feel the music, I have a bit of rhythm and I am now easing out of my leading tendencies. This is all good for my character development I defend to myself. To my father, I say, Dad, I needed this credit to graduate and my counselor recommended the CS 101. White lie. My college roommate recommended it. He never discovered (that I am aware of ) that I nearly failed the dance around the hat class.
With little dance success under my toes, I felt a yearning to move to the music and this desire accelerated when became acquaintance friends with a group of dancers. I wished I could snap my fingers and have that one talent. I didn't want to fly or play the piano or speak french or know how to fix the carburetor. Well, I actually wanted all of these talents, but if I was to chose one, hands down I would pick, to dance beautifully.
I show up 26 years later in Tracy's lyrical jazz class in Portland, deciding that I will try dance in this life. They have all danced the measure of their lives so far. For everyone in class, this is the center of their lives. And then there is me, with the rejection from toddler ballet, a few teen ballroom lessons and the college hat dance class under my leg warmers. I feel like Will Ferrell floundering in the back, for months. Several steps behind and filled with coordination shame, I decide to stick it out, anyway. I get a tutor in town. I go to NYC to dance with infamous Luigi (my teacher's teacher). I fall in love with the music that moves me. My favorite is Max Richter's, On the Nature of Daylight, which brings me back for the extensive warmup several times a week. I decide I will face the music until I can complete a full class. Lofty goal as I start with 10 minutes for a few weeks. Then I have a penciled in recital (for the eyes of my teacher and tutor only). A requirement is to take a beginning ballet class so I can have bit more grace as well as understanding of the terms. Ms. Lil (short for Lilian?), takes me under her wing. I am 40 years older and several feet taller than the little fairies she instructs in her beginning ballet class. They get tutus and a group recital. I get passed up. She is strict. I don't fit in but I stick it out for the summer and then I transfer into an Absolute Beginner BodyVox class (for grown ups) with my current terrific teacher, Heather. I am getting a little bit better.
Dance brings me joy and passion for my life, despite the intense frustration beginner hood yields. I am overwhelmed with my lack of skill and I am thrilled that I am improving. I stick it out because it fills me up with my potential, my possibility. This sense that I am more than my physical clumsiness follows each step. I feel like a caterpillar trapped in a cocoon sometimes. Let me out I want to fly. But I cannot, yet. I need to keep practicing. What keeps me keeping on with the steps? I feel close to God when I dance. The music ignites the light in me to shine no matter how I appear out of place. I am fulfilled with dance. I feel love with dance. I will keep dancing.
No matter if it is dance or darts or yoga, dedicating ourselves to that which Lifts us up helps elevate our lives. This elevated state contributes to our discovery of our Purpose and can GPS us to our Person. I believe dance has been the most significant factor in bringing to me both Ps. The joy propelling me to the life I am meant to live this round.
Thank you Tracey for seeing the dancer in me and inviting me into your magical lyrical world. I am forever lifted.
Never Stop Moving, Luigi Faccuito (March 20, 1925-April 7, 2015).