Dancing is a gift. Most mornings during this remote schooling experience have begun with my kindergartner’s unbelievably amazing teachers playing epic songs over their Google Meet while the children are all logging on. Pump up songs like “This is Me,” from The Greatest Showman. “Let it Go” from Frozen. Twice now, they have played Earth Wind and Fire’s “September.” This morning, they followed up with Footloose. I mean. I am sorry-not-sorry, but my body starts moving when I hear “September.” Every time. Timing-wise, it usually coincides with when I finally get around to milling my coffee beans with the hand-grinder my brother sent me mid-pandemic (a perfect maraca-esque accompaniment). This same brother happened to marry a superstar in September and this song was their entrance, their anthem, crystallizing that joyful lovely episode in my mind. Music has a way of encapsulating moments in time, suspended in amber, a sepia toned snow globe of joy and motion, transporting you straight back, with the capacity for access to that moment anytime you desire (or whenever the universe sends you a random gift).
The first time I heard such a solid song blasting through my little one’s chrome book speakers, a smile spread across my face and I immediately started dancing past our oven and refrigerator, making my way all around our tiled floor. My flashy five year old dance girl silently smiled and immediately blew up my spot by unmuting herself (a skill she acquired only in the past week) to inform her entire class, teachers (and whatever parents were within earshot) that “my mom is dancing crazy right now all over my kitchen.” (Awkward… hi everyone!). But hey, joy, feeling like dancing…. it’s been a while since I’ve even felt like doing that with everything that’s been happening in this world.
If you hear a song, and you feel it, let it move you. If you’re down, turn on a song, and be transported. Let it lift you, let it twirl you, let it set your feet in motion, let it all go. Eventually, the song will end. Eventually, the feels will change. But for those few glorious minutes, just lean right in and enjoy a little dance in September (while chasing the clouds awayyyy).
Care to share your thoughts?