The Unbearable Lightness

via the ever-inspiring BodyVox

My last apartment in Portland was directly across the old BodyVox dance studio, occupied by the troupe before they moved to their more spacious location a few streets up. On certain evenings, you could sit with your meal and look out the window, at the old brick brewery building across, and watch the movement, the decisive fluid expressions, of the dancers as they rehearsed. It was entrancing and on balmy summer nights, a simple pleasure to behold.

I am fascinated by the idea of dance, moved by its stewards. My fascination, with literal and metaphorical dance, comes from my utter lack of coordination. Wish as I may, I've never ever been a graceful creature. In fact, I've often joked that the most ill-suited job for me would be a ballerina! Yet, once, a time not long ago, under the moonlight and within the consuming silence of the Mongolian desert, I danced, with a stranger who told me, among other wise things, that I should dance with myself. Now, if that isn't a wonderful exclamation point to my growing fascination, I don't know what is.