The Perfect Me.

When I was finishing my previous posting on Monday I felt inconsistent: I wrote most of the post before Sunday and after that my mood had changed dramatically. Why am I writing about lack of inspiration when my heart is still bouncing from the previous night’s dancing?

Its funny how one event, even a small one, can change you. I encountered my turning point in the dance floor and it changed me from the boring and uninspired ordinary-me to cheerful and eager special-me, back to myself. But why it was this very Sunday that made this transition; after all I spend hours in the dance floor every week. Well, maybe this time I realized that the person holding me wanted to dance especially with me, no one else. I was special, precious, inspiring. And you know what: being special doesn’t mean being the best, having the perfect technique or the most outstanding styling. Being special is making the dance special for both involved, and to be able to do this you must undress your defenses and reveal the real you. It is natural to compare yourself to others, and with comparison you will always find someone better than you. But it’s not about being better. No one can be better you than you yourself. Sometimes you just need someone to remind you that you are special, that you are the perfect you.

Being myself is so much more fun. Even if I feel ridiculous doing some totally new dance style I come out from the class with a huge smile on my face. Even if I’ve had horrible and exhausting day at work I feel super energetic going to dancing right after. Even if stay out late dancing and barely wake up the next morning, I automatically collect my dance gear to my back and head half-sleep to office without questioning if I had energy to go dancing that afternoon. And when I hit the dance floor I have a blast.

It feels absurd how could have I forgotten how much fun dancing is. Remember when I used to go dancing to Havanna every single Tuesday? Even though I still remember how dead-tired I used to be every single Wednesday morning I obviously had forgotten why I still always went home too late those Tuesday nights; simply because I had so much fun I couldn’t leave. Last Tuesday's Bachata evening was like going back in time and made me wonder: why did I ever stop going there? One highlight of the evening was a sort of a reunion with one leader I haven’t been dancing with in ages. Yup, the connection is still there, a strong as it used to be. Damn, why did we ever stop dancing!

My new dance styles trial continues this week with dance school Saiffa’s free classes on Popping, Hip Hop, House and Locking, maybe even some Break. A small warning for those who plan to do the same though: the classes are super full of enthusiastic dancers!