Sometimes, late at night, when no one is watching and the house is empty and I don’t have to worry about work or employees or propriety, I shed the cumbersome cloak of responsibilities and dance.
I don’t just do routines or follow a technical dance “form” but I let the music flow through me and carry me to the point where I can tap into the rhythm within me and dance to my own tunes. And yet, contrary to popular assumptions, the world around me doesn’t fade away. It doesn’t cease to exist and neither does it fill me with a sense of enlightenment.
When I’m dancing to my own rhythm and when my movements are more of a need to follow an instinctive pattern, the world around me goes from Technicolor tv to Technicolor high definition visuals. The edges and silhouettes become sharper, clearer and brighter. I don’t feel like I’m being filled with great insight, rather, I feel spent. It feels like I’m being pulled by these strings and bit by bit, I am drawn towards a vortex which engulfs me completely.
I have often noticed that it is this whirlpool that I seek. Coz once it engulfs you, and spews you out, you feel free. Its an exhilarating feeling of accomplishment because at that very moment, I’m free from all the incessant ramblings of a wayward mind. And then, I have these bouts of creative ideas flowing through me like water gushing out of a crack in a dam. New concoctions of food and fresher perspectives on literature emerge. And then, if I’m exceedingly lucky, so does the courage and the valor to face an internal demon.
It’s been a while since I danced to this extent. I still jump and twirl and waltz around the house (much to the grief of my mother who wishes I’d just learn to walk) but I hadn’t danced enough to reach my whirlpool. So tonight, I decided to watch a program called “So you think you can dance” hoping to pick up a few new twirls for when my parents were back home.
What I saw in a particular performance overwhelmed me and spewed me out. Without even having twiddled a toe, I was pulled into the vortex. It was this haunting piece of dance performed on a song which beckoned its listener to yield to the desire to dream.
I truly believe that it’s only when the idea of the mind is synergized with the spirit of the heart that a true piece emerges. It might not be perfect, and it might not even be the most talented piece, but it’s soulful and bit by bit, when the synergy gets stronger, the pieces become better. And this dance was all that and lots more.
Ironically, it had been a night when I’d been contemplating the lack of ideas and the chaotic schism between my own mind and heart. And when I heard the music, and I felt the dance onscreen, I realized, that in all my pursuits for fulfillment, the dream behind every activity had been overshadowed by a compulsive desire to succeed.
That was my trigger…what’s yours?
P.S. The title of the text and the song mentioned is “Dreams are more precious” by Enya. I recommend it to everyone who likes eclectic music.