Over the holidays, I found myself on the sidelines of a joyful, outdoor dance night at a retirement community in Arizona. Complete with a live band, it was well attended and I thought how wonderful it was that people do this, that people anywhere – but also in particular people later in life – come together to move to music.
I’d like to dance more, but there aren’t a lot of places to do that in my rural area. I keep watching one local organization, hoping they’ll restart the adult tap classes again, not because I have a particular love of tap or any history with it, but instead because it’s what they’ve got. I dance at home instead, often, and it’s silly but it always makes me happier.
Anyway, on this warm night in Arizona, warm still though the temperature plummeted once the sun went down, I watched my partner and my child, and my partner’s mom, and some family friends, and a whole lot of people I don’t know. I joined in here and there, because dancing is just so free and fun, but I also found myself drawn to the simple art of witnessing.
One woman stood out to me. Likely in her mid-60s, she led a crew of line dancers for song after song after song, even if line dancing wasn’t what the music requested. She was serious about it, smiling not even once, and though she came off of the dance floor anytime the band stopped, she was on it again immediately once they returned. It seemed to be more than a night out; it seemed to be a glimpse of this person’s purpose.
It made me think about my own.
I was a January baby, and so the beginning of the year holds hands with the beginning of my personal new year. It offers a chance to dive deeply into my life: what’s going well, what needs to change, where I need to grow or focus. Watching this woman at the retirement community, I found myself thinking about what we prioritize in our lives. What’s important. How we make meaning when we could choose virtually anything to highlight.
A birthday is a good time to take stock.
So here’s what I know about my own existence: my relationships are more important than anything. I want to have a positive impact on the world. I want to parent my child to know both that he’s the most important thing to me, and that this planet is full of other people who are also the most important things to their mamas, too. Some of my desires are decades-old compasses: writing, trying to speak French. Indeed, I’d like to learn how to dance. I’d like to take more chances, I’d like to feel more of that what-am-I-doing-but-here-I-go-anyway sense of adventure.
On New Year’s Day, I dove into a chilly river a stone’s throw from the edge of the frigid Pacific. By my side were three other women who I like and love, and though I had to stifle my doubts to take those first steps into the water, by the time I walked back out, I was exhilarated, giddy. Fully aware of my own existence.
I want more of that this year. More time with people I want to be around, more time impressed with my own daring. More time dancing, or whatever it is I decide I want to spend my precious time on. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I hope the same for you, too. Who cares what it is; this year, do the thing that makes you feel alive.
The Wandering Introvert 