Forgive me dance gods, for I have sinned
Dancing is an art that existed for as long as civilization itself. All over the world, there are examples of how long humans have been dancing. There are paintings from India that date back 10,000 years that seem to depict such, ones from Egypt that are from roughly 3300 BC that do similarly. There is Chinese pottery from the Neolithic period that seem to show people dancing in lines and Greek dances are referenced in the earliest forms of written literature.
It is an activity that can express emotion, tell a story, or record history. It has been used in rituals and ceremonies, or been performed on the largest stages in the world. There are seemingly a limitless number of forms and styles and these can often be combined with other arts such as singing or musical accompaniment to further enhance the experience. From its humblest beginnings to classical ballroom dance performances to teenagers trying to copy the newest moves on TikTok, it continues to proliferate throughout our societies and our history.
Why then, I must ask, given the seemingly thousands of years of development and evolution, am I still cursed with being as awkward as a newborn fawn when it comes time to get out on the dance floor?
Surely, this tragedy of fate should have been mitigated over this time. Either through the collective unconscious or the millennia upon millennia that humans have had to improve themselves, my poor excuse for dance moves really should not be possible.
Yet, here I still am, trapped in body that can neither find the rhythm nor coordinate itself in any way that would resemble an acceptable dance move.
And I am not the only one inflicted with this curse. There are millions, maybe even billions, still out there without a single groovy bone in them. A truly cruel fate, one that I can only sympathize with, for I have no answers or cures.
Still, it isn’t all bad. After all, dancing can be avoided, with some skill. Given its various uses throughout your average modern society, this can be a difficult task, but as it is not entirely mandatory, it is possible to do so.
That, is of course, unless you have paired yourself off with one of those humans who have been blessed with the ability to actually move two or more of their limbs at the same time and not look like a complete goof while doing so.
I myself am one of these poor souls. My wife is unfortunately of the mind that she quite enjoys dancing and, as any good partner does, wants me to feel included in her various likes and hobbies. And sure, I’ll admit, I don’t hate dancing. Daresay, I may even like it at times. However, the unfortunate fact remains that I am completely and utterly hopeless when it comes to the activity. As such, I should probably not be seen in public when attempting it, for the sake of those who might have the unfortunate luck of witnessing such an atrocity.
That is not, however, an adequate excuse for Mikaela. Regardless of the logic behind maintaining whatever shreds of dignity I may have or the empathy to not subject the general public to such horrors, she will insist that I accompany her to the various dance floors that creep up in life.
I found myself at one such dance floor this last weekend, courtesy of one Neal Hodgen and his newly wedded wife. While certainly not my first choice of activity, I’ll admit, the allure of a wedding dance floor is something not to be trifled with, even for us folk who know that our moves may cause unintended global disasters. This is especially true when enough peer pressure or alcohol is applied to the situation. I saw countless of my fellow non-dancing brethren fall to the siren’s call of the dance floor that night, and I’ll confess that I joined them.
Luckily, I think that most have accepted the fact that a wedding dance floor is a space that attracts those of all skills (or lack thereof) and most of the transgressions against the many thousands of years of dancing history are largely forgiven. Or at least, I hope that is that case. If not, I can only ask for the forgiveness of any person that happened to see any of what transpired that night. Though I will add, I think some of that blame can be lain at the feet of my good friend Neal or my wife Mikaela, the former for creating the situation for such a horrible act to occur and the latter for encouraging such behavior.
Regardless of whether or not I scarred someone for life or if I am merely being extremely self conscious, I personally had a great time. Congratulations again to Neal and Kaitlyn; I wish you guys nothing but the best!
A C ertain Point of V iew
eporter
