(So I danced last night, a lot, and once again felt grateful to anyone whose helped me become the dancer I am, anyone I've shared dance space with, anyone who believes in dance. This is a silly free write I found, but I'm so sore today and satisfied in that feeling that I thought I'd give this to you...)
You can tell that I dance by the state of my socks and the skin on my feet.
Dirty and worn, cracked and thick, respectively.
If my socks are clean and my feet are pretty then something is wrong in the hours of my day. If my back muscles are stiff from sitting and standing, and not tired from supporting not-everyday-bodylines, then you know I've been foolish with myself. If my knees aren't bruised from contact with a hardwood floor or my own feet and hands then I've neglected to feed my soul what it really needs.
It needs to show up in front of the mirror.
Turn socks into dance shoes.
Breath. Breath with music.
Sweat, stretch, and survive.
Move. There's gotta be movement.
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haha this is awesome! i can see this being read in the future at a dance studio to motivate dancers
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