To dance
is to get to a certain place on the floor.
It’s to listen to the music,
but not too carefully.
For you want to dance freely also,
not confined.

To dance is to purposely look as if you are making a mistake,
contort your body to tell a story,
but to take on the challenge to do so without words.
It’s an art, an abstract art,
where there is a strange passion in your uniqueness.
To dance is to be strong,
strong-minded,
strong-willed,
just strong.

To dance, you cannot show weakness.
What you dance is what you show
and what the people see.
It is not technical or wordy.
If you need words to understand,
Then your eyes only see surfaces.

To dance you should be silent and loud at the same time,
silent as a white swan and loud as it’s black.
You should surprise,
always keeping the observers on their toes.
Whatever you turn or leap or conjure,
it should renew the watcher’s eyes.

To dance, keep your emotions at the top,
allowing you to reach in and grab a happy,
or sad, or confused, or conflicted,
to re-experience the most painful loss in your life,
or go back to that lustful summer you got your first kiss.

To dance is to love.
Truly, sincerely love.
You cannot sell a story to the audience unless it’s already been sold to you.
To dance is to show them your anger or frustration,
or the love that bursts and radiates from your body.

To dance, you need to be vulnerable,
to give up your relentless spirit.
Let them get to you and in you,
to comprehend your sadness.

To dance is to lose yourself in any way and every way.
But to also find the answers you need to keep your life together.

To dance is to get to a certain place on the floor,
But to remember to enjoy each step along the way.