The Flame Ignites

I had resigned myself to the idea that dancing, for me, would be an unfulfilled yearning. In my mid-twenties, I told myself I was too old for dancing and should transfer all such longings into a more suitable outlet. The dancing flame was buried, and I took up the violin. Playing the violin was enjoyable enough, but I wasn’t a musician. I was a dancer.

In my early thirties, I went back to university to do a Diploma of Education so that I would be able to work as a teacher. I thought teaching would fit in with raising young children. One of the short options in the diploma was dance. As soon as I began the dance option, the dancing flame ignited. It came alive. It was given oxygen, and it started to breathe with a great gust of enthusiasm and relief. I was amazed because I no longer knew it was there and certainly did not know the intensity with which it waited for air. How wonderful it felt. How deeply it touched me. I felt something in me that was different to all the other parts of me, and it felt uniquely beautiful and satisfying. Alas, the dance option was over too quickly, and I returned to the academic task.

When the Diploma of Education was completed, life carried on at the end of the year. One day, I asked myself if I needed to do something different to improve the quality of my life. Naturally, the dancing flame leapt at the opportunity as it had only been a short time ago that it felt its first breath in nearly a decade. 

“Don’t be ridiculous; you can’t take up dancing now,” warned my rational mind. “You are a responsible mother of two young children. Grown-up women don’t dance.”

“Oh, be quiet,” my free mind said in reply. “I could be dead in a year. Then, what would that all matter?” 

I did not die. I did take up dancing—in the form of figure skating. I skated for thirteen years with great enjoyment. Like a friend that was once lost and now has been found, the bond is protected at all costs. I later transferred to ballroom dancing which I loved even more. The latter is much warmer, and you don’t fall over.

Dancing has helped me to feel connected to myself and life. It fulfils an inner drive that has remained with me from when I was a young child with a treasured picture of beautiful ballet couple Margot Fonteyn and Rudolph Nureyev. I didn’t know who they were, but they were fascinating and lovely. 

We are no one else. We are ourselves. We must be that, with no regrets, if we wish to be happy. If we keep going forward, following our natural, intuitive, and sincere path, everything will tend to align with our good intention.