Monday, April 1, 2013

A Tear

The month of March has not been great for my confidence level. For anyone, this amount is rarely consistent or reliable. We are human. We feel. We change. As am I. I've wanted to hide. Take cover. Keep myself under wraps. Hidden. Literally and figuritively. My body has been a source of shame. Something I wished wasn't the way it was.

I've been teaching Zumba for about three years. It's a dance fitness class. Think Latin-Jazzercise. And I dig Zumba. Not because it's particularly unique. Not because I have bought-in financially, attended conferences (yes, there are conferences), or decked myself out in Zumba-love swag. No, I dig Zumba because it's good for my soul. So on Thursday night, as usual, I showed up to teach my 7:30pm Zumba class: forty-five minutes of dance, silliness, and cleansing. It's usually during this time that I am reminded, "If I can come together and shake it ridiculously with fifty or so strangers, we're going to be okay."

It will work out.
We'll figure out this political situation.
We'll find jobs.
That relationship will mend.

Essentially, at the end of a long day (and a long month) of work and stress and pain and insecurity, I can still put on some music, move my body, and feel better. Calmer. Happier. Optimistic.

During one song well into class, I looked in the mirror and caught the eye of a slim, energetic, and beautiful woman. She had positioned herself in front of the class. She couldn't help grinning and I couldn't help watching her. She danced with lightness and joy. Her movements were fluid and addictive.

I looked a little harder and realized she was me.
I was her.
I am those things.

And a tear slipped from the corner of my eye.
Because joy triumphs pain.
Empathy overcomes shame.

The music moves us.
And we dance.
Regardless.


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