I started a new job yesterday. I am at a training with the new company and one of the other directors asks me, “Are you a dancer?” “No,” I replied quickly. Then I said, “Well, I do love to dance and I think I have some pretty good moves. But, professional dancer, no.” I felt much better about that response.
She said, “I noticed that you walk like a dancer. With long strides, grace, and confidence. I thought you must be a dancer.”
Such a magnificent thing for me to hear! I mean, dancers are beautiful, graceful, and float through the air like art in motion. So, is it the new job? I suppose there is a confidence in me as others trust my skills and put their faith in me to be a part of their vision and team. It is inspiring to be valued. I find inspiration in being valued by others. And there it is—by others. Being rejected by those who used to value me (whether at work, by friends, in marriage) really complicates the value I hold in and of myself. Unemployed = useless. Unfriended = unworthy. Divorced = failure. I suppose we all do that. But, I’m not writing for all of you. I am writing for me.
I was in conversation with my daughter recently of a forgotten topic and I had apparently said something in the nature of “…blah blah blah I wrote in my blog blah blah blah…” She stopped, turned around, and said, “You have a blog?” Yes. “On the internet?” Yes. “Who reads it?” I think I have like 17 followers now. “So, just a bunch of rando’s read them?” Um, what is a rando? “Random people, Mom.” Oh, I guess so then, yes. And she left it there. Perhaps she knew that I write for me. That having rando’s read it have different meaning than having it available for my friends and family. It does. I explained to a friend once that when I write in my journal with an actual writing implement, I write differently. It is more freestyle in a way, no editing, no real focus, more rambling. When I write for my blog, I have a thought in mind. I have a story or desire to explain myself in a way that must get out of my head and heart. When I write a Facebook post, it may feel personal to others, but it is a thought, story, or poem that is surrounded by a wall.
In any case, the idea that I am headed to and fro around this planet with the walk of a dancer is completely inspiring to me. I smile contently at the thought.
I walk like a dancer.
I choose to be a dancer.
I am a dancer!
I am art in motion.