I used to go dancing a lot, nearly every weekend. Same place, certainly nothing fancy, but there was a proper DJ, a few good friends, and a fancy to flirt with. Oh it was fun! Yet, now, I don’t go as much. In truth, it’s been years, even though I love to dance, love to hear the driving beat matching my pounding pulse, love to shake what the Good Lord gave me. Yes, I know how. I don’t get out there on the floor only after I’ve had one too many making every step a misstep, every turn a potential disaster, and I certainly don’t do that “White Girl” dance that looks more like there’s a queue for the loo than an expression of rhythmic ecstasy going on.
So why is it, then, that I have abstained for so long? The place is still there, the friends are still about, even the DJ is still in attendance on his given night, but, for whatever reason, I stopped going. Too many late nights? No. That’s the beauty of Saturdays. Not enough “fundage” to foot the bill? Never. Dancing is free; it’s the drinking that is costly. Got bored with the same ol’ scene…ok maybe, but I never went to parade my assets to the flesh market; I only ever went to dance, have a good time and a lot of laughs.
Why, then, deny myself something I enjoy; something that made me giggle, something from which I have dozens of great memories, something that made me feel so good? Job responsibilities got in the way, boyfriend at the time had something to say, supposed spiritual antithesis made me feel I rather ought to pray, not sure which, but something wouldn’t let me play (sorry, it’s the poet in me!) Whatever it was, I simply stopped going.
This happens, though, doesn’t it. Whether it’s the club where we love to dance, or the gym where we work out (and prance? Sorry!) Whether it’s the afternoon game at school we always used to go to, or the local theatre meeting we just can’t find time for anymore, or the church service of a Sunday that we used to attend; there always seems to be something that we sacrifice in order to satisfy the demands and pressures of our lives. It’s the extra job so we can buy a new car, or the late hours at the office so we can pay our inflated mortgage; it’s the dinner party that keeps us from spending time with our children, or the sheer exhaustion of it all that keeps us from getting up off the couch to give our bodies a little physical stimulation (behave now, I mean working out here!)
In the end, though, what are we gaining? Stress? Hassles? Dissatisfaction? 30 extra pounds and borderline diabetes? Estranged loved ones? Lonely children? Insomnia? A Life without Purpose? The list can go on and on. You know what they say: All work and no play….All Stress and no Pray….
My Point? (yes, you and I both know I don’t really need one, but once again you are in luck) What I’m saying is simply this: Grab your i-whatever devise and go for a walk. Strap on a helmet and take a spin on that bicycle that’s been sitting (or hanging) in your garage for years. Pick up a ball or a doll and play with your baby before they grow up and don’t want you around. Or better yet, put on your little black dress (unless you’re a man, of course! In that case put on something sleek and sexy that shows off your best attribute), call up some friends and Go Shake Your Grove Thang!
Because the fun you have and the inspiration you achieve will last a vast while longer than any false sense of accomplishment you may gain by working late or ignoring your mate.