Why Don’t You Dance With Me?

You know that feeling you get when your favorite song is blaring, lights are pulsating in rhythm, you’re moving like a manic puppet with no visible strings, and everything around you just...disappears?

Time stops. Nothing exists but your senses. Matter disintegrates as if you’re exploding outward while the entire universe rushes in.

You become the living embodiment of horror vacui. And in that moment - suspended outside of everything you’ve ever known to be real - there is no doubt, no longing, no wanting.

This is how it feels to dance.

Dancing for me is anything that makes me feel this way. It’s truth. It’s art. It’s giving. It’s anything I do with complete abandon and purpose. It’s how I feel when I follow my heart or my bliss or my instincts. You can call it whatever you like. The result is the same.

This feeling. This definitive knowing that goes far beyond knowledge. This oneness that connects and defines. This is what life should be like.

I don’t want to do anything this year that’s not in pursuit of dancing. Call me a dreamer. Say I’m impractical. Snicker behind my back if you must. I don’t care.

I’m dancing.

You? You have a choice to make; sit there on the sidelines, an angsty wallflower, watching me.

Or...