About last night…
I love many things about Idyllwild, my adopted hometown. The summer concert series is one of them. A sweet little amphitheater sits back, nestled beneath the soaring pines. And, as the night falls, the moon and stars. Shining bright this far away from city lights.
Last night was the first show of the season. And, as life goes, it fell on a day that was full. A week that was full. (A life that is full…)
We arrived after a long day at camp for my son, of work for me and my husband, and close to our usual bedtime. Physically, we’d made it. But the energy in our group was low and I was conscious of that. Trying to manage it so we can all have a good time. (Always trying to manage…)
My son usually runs around the forest with friends, playing with sticks and rocks like kids of yesteryear before screens and ennui took over. But, last night, he was flying solo and firmly planted between me and the side of the sound booth. I could see the visible discomfort in his body. That tightness of being a tween.
And, the hard truth was, I could feel it in my body too.
Sitting way, way back in the only spaces left when we got there (but also pretty much the place we normally sit…). Watching people dancing at the front. Even doing that thing I do where I distance myself by reflecting on how much I appreciate that people of all ages dance like no one’s watching here…while seated… Like, somehow, bearing witness would satisfy that longing to move my body freely and joyfully too. Noticing… Noticing…
They’re playing all my songs! Noticing… Noticing… Excuses. Reasons why not. Noticing… Noticing…
Then, finally, checking myself. I could see the way I was holding myself back. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want to dance. And, I thought – Really? What is stopping you?
Of course, it’s the usual suspects… My lifelong frenemies, inner critic and fear. And, if I didn’t honor what was calling me, I would be letting them run the show (something I do a lot of work to avoid). And, for what? Dancing?
That’s when I said F*ck it. I’m dancing. And made my way down to the space right in front of the stage. Where I, too, danced like no one was watching. It felt as great. As I knew it would.
Eventually, I returned to our way-back seats and was met with my son’s fits of giggles as he held my phone and my husband’s chuckles watching it all unfold. Note to self: Don’t leave your phone with your son when you’re going to go make a fool of yourself.
Except, no, I take that back. DO! I realized (and I told him) I was so glad there was evidence that I did not take myself too seriously to go dance to my favorite songs. And I am.
It’s not that serious. We can hold things lightly and have a little fun. Sure, I have two left feet sometimes, but they’ve walked miles and climbed mountains with me. And, yes, I’m as old as I am today. But I’ll be that much older tomorrow. And, what a gift. I hope every single day I live. Full. Embodied. Savoring simple pleasures when life is sweet enough to offer them. I hope I dance.
And, I hope he does too. And I know what I model, I teach.
I sit here with a smile, loving the way that life offers us these great, low-stakes playgrounds for living into how we want to live. Noticing what comes up when we dare and working with it so it doesn’t keep us in our metaphorical seats, especially when the stakes are higher.
So, when life plays your song, consider this your invitation. I hope you dance.
*Photo quality is grainy with distance but, if you look very closely, you will see a middle-aged woman living her life, embracing her joy and not giving a f*ck.**
**Important qualification: I do still give a great many f*cks about a great many important things (as I think you know if you’re here and you’re reading this). I am just trying to give fewer f*cks about the things that really don’t matter, particularly given the gravity of the things that really do.