I’ve never been much of a dancer, but I don’t blame myself entirely. I grew up in the dark ages of dancing, when club-goers danced without any hint of choreography, no or very little touching, and without even looking at each other. I never saw the point of it. They may as well have been dancing alone.
But even then, I thought dancing should be what the name implies – a dance, two people blending together to make something beautiful, exquisite, transcending the mundane and ordinary, a synchronized celebration of life and love. (And yes, I know how corny that sounds.)
I would imagine dancing together like this helps a marriage, too. After all, a marriage is a kind of dance. As Garth Brooks sang, “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.”
Another country song claims “life is a dance you learn as you go” – symbolically jumping into life rather than standing against the wall watching others enjoy themselves. Organized, mutual joy rather than disorganized narcissism.
It seems dancing reflects the age. Maybe the lack of synchronicity and dances with actual names – the Lindy Hop, Jitterbug, East Coast Swing and Jive for swing dancing, for instance, or the Waltz, Foxtrot, Tango, Rumba, Cha Cha and Jive for ballroom dancing (to name a few) – is one of the reasons marriages aren’t as strong in the modern world as they were during World War II, the heyday of swing and ballroom dance. Synchronicity died, people became separated, more into themselves than each other, and so did marriages.
There’s something especially beautiful about watching older folks like this dance. They may have lost the athleticism of their youth but, after all the storms that inevitably come during a marriage, and the ravages of time, they’re still up there doing it. Dancing together. They won.