Meeting moments

Clues to dancing through a storm

I’m beginning to feel now like the whole first part of the pandemic — for those of us who isolated but could keep working or who didn't get sick or have immediate family fall ill  — was prelude, a sort of calm before the storm. We felt the air pressure change, watched the dark clouds approach, went underground and battened the hatches, rode it out, emerged changed but relatively unscathed. Only now, we find the real storm is here, sweeping the pandemic up into its maw, like a train car that was picked up by the tornado.

And there's so much else in there, spinning around out of control: climate change, fundamentalism, nationalism, racism, sexism greed, all the forces oppression at least some of we Americans thought we were on the road to vanquishing.

How to stay in calm center? I’m reminded again of the yoga and Buddhist sutras, threads of wisdom to help guide action. Like the breath the body rides through a yoga or meditation practice or the rhythm at the heart of a song.

We had dancers at the winery gig we played last week. They sat at a table sipping their wine, keeping their ears cocked for a song to which they could move. Then they would signal to one another imperceptibly and get up. I was soon nodding at the man like I'd look to a band member to let them know a song was about to end. Kwame added a musical coda to a tune we’ve played for years that then found a whole new shade of meaning. Others in the enthusiastic-if-not-dance-centric crowd were inspired by their graceful movement. Another tableful of patrons got up and began to sway, shyly at first, then joyfully. The dancing duo noticed yet another woman seated at a table who was clasping her hands to her heart as she watched them. They helped her to her feet and incorporated her into their practiced moves. Then two young girls who appeared to have cheerleading training began doing high kicks and side splits on the edges of the dance floor. The whole scene was cathartic.

I was reminded of the young dancer I saw last week at Peter's show who watched as he built a looping musical score like a cat watches a mouse, eager to tap that pulse, ready to improvise before he started make spontaneous gestures. The youth’s eyes were open, his senses alert, his limbs loose. He was ready to meet the moment, even though he wasn’t sure what was coming. I’m tucking that image into my pocket.