It's me again, your cake decorating belly dancer. I just returned from my first belly dancing class and I have to say, I AM HOOKED! And really imperfect at it.
I had no issue jumping right in and keeping up with the steps, but man, I dance as stiff as a board. The years of pilates and ballet have left my carriage impeccable, but my movements stiff and very technical. It was amazing to watch the instructor moved with the music naturally, her arms and hips creating a visual representation of the hypnotic rhythm. I admit I am jealous, but I take heart in that she studied 12 years of ballet and had similar issues with dancing rather stiffly, so hey, there is hope for me yet! ;-)
In our small class of 10, our feet pounded against the cork floor in a captivating beat as we danced in a circle around the room. The coins dangling from the hip scarves jingled along to the music as we swung our bodies forward toward the center of the room and rolled our hands through the air. The music sped up to a frantic pace, beckoning for us to keep time. The pounding of our feet and the rustling of the scarves came to a sudden halt as the music changed tempo and we stretched to catch our breath.
The hour when by with amazing speed. We ended the session in a circle, sending out a blessing to all whom we know, and don't know. We took the time to show appreciation for our bodies, even if just in thought. We thanked our eyes for sight and our mouth for words, even our hips and knees. During this whole ending, I couldn't help smiling spontaneously. And it wasn't that smile you get when you think something to be ridiculous, it was actually joyful.
I thought about this on the way home, why would such a small thing- showing gratitude to a body part- bring on this feeling of happiness? It wasn't a prayer to have a slimmer tummy or more toned butt, it was just an expression of thank you for being exactly the way they are. But I guess it really shouldn't surprise me that this new experience brought out unexpected joy, we are bombarded everyday with the idea that we should hate ourselves, that we are never good enough. We buy makeup to have doll-like skin. We abstain from carbs to make sure we can fit into our itty bitty jeans. The anit-aging/wrinkle industry will never hurt for business as they pressure us to hide our age instead of honoring our years of wisdom.
And this lead me to a surprising revelation- when we accept our imperfections, when we put them out there for the world to see, it is an utterly freeing experience. There is no longer a need to work so hard at keeping up the pretense of perfection and instead you can be fully open to experiencing whatever life brings you. I don't claim to be at this space, far from it I am afraid. But I feel I should put in a caveat to this idea, because I also feel that there is a distinction that should be made between keeping up pretenses and observing social manners. But that is a musing for another time.
