Dancing Through Mondays — Living in the Moment
All I Need to Know I Learned From Teaching Dance
Every Monday morning I teach two, three, four, and five year olds the fundamentals of dance.
Or, at least, I try to.
Some days I teach the fundamentals of being a person.
“Keep your hands to yourself, cutie.”
“Dear, please do not put your finger in the plug socket.”
“Ohp! Keep your clothes on, sweetheart.”
Still, we manage to get some work done.
My dancers and I stick to a very rigid routine. If we were to do one thing even remotely differently, my dancers would be quick to reprimand and demand we do it “the right way.”
So, we begin every class by free dancing to two Disney songs. You never know what you’re going to get in a room full of toddlers. Some come early. Some come late. Some days they’re alert and awake. Some days they’re sleepy. Other days they’re feeling extra shy and don’t want to leave their mom. Other days they’re so talkative that you know a little too much about what happened last Thursday at their grandma’s house. So, playing Disney music at the beginning of class helps break through their shells a little.
This particular Monday, we were dancing to “Let It Go.”
I do not understand what addictive substances are tied to Frozen, but the way little kids worship the movie, its characters, and its songs is beyond something I’ll ever understand. No other Disney songs get the same reaction out of my dancers the way Frozen does.
That morning I was feeling rather clouded and down about some things going on in my own life outside of the studio. Admittedly, I was just going through the motions when class started.
Pony step here.
Wiggle my fingers there.
Half-hearted chaîné.
Then, I noticed one little girl in particular. She was dancing her little heart out. She embodied the music and tapped into something surreal. Something beyond herself.
Little kids are masters at living in the present. Perhaps because they have their own personal butlers, coiffures, chefs, maids, nurses, and therapists always at their disposal. With all the minute and mundane details of their lives taken care of for them, maybe it’s easier to focus on the here and now. There are no deadlines. No bills to pay. Time literally does not exist to them.
I wanted whatever this little girl had. The freedom from worry. Indifferent to what others might think. To dance around a room in a sparkly tutu without a care in the world.
And then it hit me.
I get paid to dance. I get paid to come here every Monday morning and dance my little heart out. I get to leap, turn, chassé and momentarily forget the worries and anxieties that plague me. Sure, I don’t have an entire team of adults dedicated to the success of my health and well-being, but how fortunate am I that this is what I get paid to do.
Maybe Queen Elsa was on to something. Maybe I really did need to let it go.
So, I tried it.
I tried to imitate my little dancer as best I could. To fully and completely embody the music and my movements the way she did. To be in the here and now and not think about life outside of the studio.
A grand jeté here.
A double piqué turn there.
A dramatic curtsey to finish.
By the end of the song I was breathing hard and laughing to myself. That was actually fun.
I felt lighter. More at peace. More grateful. Refreshed. Renewed.
It was an interesting moment for me. One I’ve mulled over in my mind again and again. I keep coming back to that cloudy Monday morning where my little dancer taught me how to let go and live in the moment.
And, let’s be honest, if I really wanted, I could show up to class in a sparkly tutu. Just like my little dancers.
