I spent Sunday afternoon looking at myself in the mirror. What was I thinking? Five hours of dance lessons, staring into a wall that reflected my every move. Ouch. Sore hips and a sore ego are what lessons and an honest mirror will do. That’s if you're willing to look at yourself!
Most of the afternoon I was practicing swing outs with different partners, gazing at the figure in front of me, not so much my own. However, one class was solo dancing, all women, exploring the movement of our bodies alone. It was most comfortable to glue my eyes on the instructor, trying to mimic her grace and exquisite lines. However "solo" isn't about mimicking, is it?
It was hard to look in that mirror. And even more difficult doing so with forgiving eyes. But by the end of class I decided to claim it - my dance, my reflection, my body’s novice solo moves. How the dance floor can be an analogy for life. Claim it, baby! Claim it!
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