Let’s Dance

Translated…

At the end of last month, my husband and I went to my son’s kindergarten graduation.  Just like the assortment of celebratory events that the school had hosted in the past, the graduation ceremonies also had entertainments as well.

This performance, was prepared by the kids for over a period of a couple of weeks, a Polonaise.  Polonaise is a very famous traditional dance (also a form of music too), the steps were majestic and slow, and would often be danced at sorts of ball, or at the start of ceremonies (like the prom before the graduation exams).

not my silhouette

Seeing how serious my son was, performing the polonaise, I’d felt glad on one had (he’d gotten the delicacies of the Polish culture now!), and on the other side, I’d felt familiar (as I was taking Polish, I’d gone to a barbeque with my teachers and classmates in the forest, and we’d danced the polonaise back then), on the other hand, I’d felt, that it’s really, Polish, to dance.

I don’t know if the Polish people really loved dancing more than other races, but in my impressions and memories, the Polish people really DO love dancing.  They would dance at gatherings at their friends’ houses, at birthday parties (a Polish wedding consisted of a twenty-four-hour long eating, drinking, and dancing, if it’s in the countryside, it can last as long as three days and three nights), of course, we’d go dancing at the discos—in the eighties, there was even, a brand new sort of dance music, the “Disco polo”, I think it sounded like the music style of a Chinese singer.

not my picture still…

Before I came to Poland, I’d not liked dancing at all, although as I was studying in England, I’d gotten introduced to the dance styles of contact improvisation and salsa, but it’s only every once in a long while.  The first year I’d arrived in Poland, I’d gone to the village up north, to attend a traditional drama workshop, the very first evening was consisted of dancing the traditional dance nonstop.  With the accompaniment of the clarinet and accordion, we’d danced the Jewish dance, the Ukraine dance, the Polish dance…I’d sweated like crazy, but I was, having a grand time.  Because I didn’t know the steps, I’d raised my hands to ask, and the director who’d led the drama session told me, “Dance with your heart, not your legs.”

Weird, how after he’d told me that, I’d stopped, caring about my steps.  From before, when I’d danced, I’d always cared about how others looked upon me, feared that I wasn’t moving well, that my clothes may be wrinkled or ruffled up, feared that others may discover, that I’m dancing all alone—feared that I’m different than the rest of the people on the dancefloor.

And after I’d started dancing with my heart, I’d found out, that turns out nobody has the same way that they’d danced.  There’s no right or wrong steps, doing it right or wrong, just, if you’re having fun, are you comfortable dancing, and, if you’re dancing with a partner, do the two of you share the same steps.

a tango…

not my picture still…

Later on, I’d met my husband, who also loved to dance.  And, maybe in other people’s perspectives, we are unprofessional at dancing, with no rules that we followed to, but we danced very well together, enjoyed one another’s company a lot.  Seeing how my son was performing the polonaise, I’d made a secret wish: hope that as he grows up, he’ll enjoy dancing as much as I enjoy it, and find his own dance style too.

So, this, is actually not about dancing, but on how a woman went from being uncomfortable in her own skin, to slowly, accepting and adapting herself, to who she’d become, it’s a growth process over time, and you just can’t expect to see the changes come overnight, as these changes or growths take place over long periods of time, just like how it takes a very long time, for someone, to perfect a dance style too.