“Dance like no one is watching.
Sing like no one is listening.
Love like you’ve never been hurt
and live like it’s heaven on Earth.”
— Mark Twain
To this end… I have recently been doing my utmost. But you know what? Lately I am learning that it’s often a case of “easier said than done”.
Let me tell you… people DO notice when you fall over on the dance floor. They DO hear you when you sing out of tune… even in the shower. You WILL get hurt along the way. And LIFE… you can be sure… often bears absolutely NO resemblance to heaven on earth!
Really sorry to break it to you Mr. Twain (((chuckles)))
But you know… despite the obvious risks… life CAN be a whole lot of fun. Even if you do sometimes get injured in the process.
Finally… after all these years… I am dancing again. And it is so much fun!
[Read about Living Life to the Hilt ]
After the first couple of classes… with burgeoning confidence… I decided it was about time to invest in a good pair of dancing shoes. Why?
1. To keep me motivated.
2. So I could try to achieve some of the fancy footwork demanded of a budding ballroom dancer [chuckles] on a slick and slippery dance floor without sliding over and hurting myself trying to attempt any/or all of the above in stilettos, sandals or joggers.
and lastly… [but not "leastly"]
3. Because I found a lovely pair of gold Pasodoble’s that I simply couldn’t resist.
You know… boys and their toys… girls and their shoes… [grin]
Besides… my thinking has always been that you should always arm yourself with the appropriate tools for the job in order to achieve the best results. [That's why we artists buy good brushes right?] Okay… it sounded like a plan. And so it was.
I bought the shoes.
Can’t tell you how pleased as punch I was with my purchase as I twirled around the floor… my beautiful new shoes carrying me hither and thither across the floor. But then… just when I was getting the hang of a step… and attempting to execute the perfect turn… those beautiful shoes all of a sudden got a mind of their own… went their separate ways… and I crashed down with an almighty wallop in an inglorious heap on the floor.
Fortunately I went straight down… crashing on one knee first then landing flat on my you know what… and not the alternative… [ie] flat on my back with my legs out from under me. A girl I guess… can be grateful for some such small mercies.
Oooo… ouch… now that hurt! In fact… everything hurt as I sat there in a crumpled heap shocked and unable to get up. [The last time I felt like that was a few years ago after hurtling down the driveway with my son on the back of the billy cart - read the story here]
Finally after what seemed like an age… and would have been less than a split second… someone [have not a clue who] hauled me to my feet and with the music still playing the dancing continued. Now that’s what I call professionalism (((chuckles))) And heck… what stamina. I quite surprised myself. Grin.
Later however… much later… my knee came up a beauty. A huge bruise the likes of which I had not seen since my days on the vigoro pitch in primary school. And my back hurt. But only just a tad. Ahem. Okay then… maybe just a tad more than a tad. At the end of the night I limped sheepishly to the door… my pride tucked neatly in my pocket…. got home… took some magnesium and lay down perfectly flat for the next eight hours (((chuckles))) Next day… all good. And so far… so good.
As for the shoes… well… they will live to dance another day. I took them straight into Theo’s Shoe Shop from whence they came and had the man rough up the soles on whatever the machine is that they “rough up” soles of shoes with there. I made sure that those beautiful shoes were going to stick like glue to the dance floor from that day on.
Now if only we could do that with people.
Life would be so easy. Grin.
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