I Blame Her: Dance
(Series Intro)
“The dancing body seems unaware of its surroundings. It seems to be concerned only with itself and one other object-the earth. The earth, the ground, the solid place, the plane on which everyday life plods along, the plane of walking, the prose of human movement.”
- Copeland & Cohen
For the last couple years, my younger sister has invited me to the annual Civil War Ball. It apparently is intended as a “prom” substitute for homeschool kids, which makes it host to all kinds of interesting social phenomena. Being rather well-adjusted for a homeschool kid (being an adult out on my own helps), I tended to ignore the drama and enjoy the dancing. Besides swing, “old-school” dancing is the only style I can understand and/or enjoy.
The first year I went, I had just started dating Mary and hadn't thought to invite her. This led to much consternation from my sister and her friends – I'm pretty sure they thought she was an imaginary character. I atoned for myself the second year, though, offering an invite early to provide plenty of time for her to plan her dress and all that stuff girls are into. I did have somewhat of a situational-awareness advantage, both because I attended the year before and because I was able to attend the precursor introductory dance class. I already had picked out the dances I was interested in (most of them) and the ones I would skip (the hat dance...ugh).
Among the Virginia Reel, the Grand Procession, and all those other dances to which I have forgotten the names, there are a couple waltzes over the course of the night. One follows tradition with the young men asking the young ladies, while the other reverses the trope by being “ladies' choice”. I vaguely remember the first waltz. I think I asked a young lady I had met earlier that day because she was friendly, polite, and a good dancer. I thought I knew how the second would play out, but I only knew part.
As the previous dance ended and the second waltz was announced, I tried to circle unobtrusively around to where Mary could find me, but ended up behind her and out of her vision. As I wondered if she'd actually find me, I was rather gratified to note the enthusiasm she put into locating me. (Hey, I like to be valued too. Don't hate.) Finally she came over and asked if I wanted this dance; an offer to which I quickly acquiesced.
You know that stereotype where couples get lost in each others' eyes? That's one of those things that people make up to over-romanticize their lives, right?
I don't remember much about that dance. Like, only in flashes. I remember the young lady in front of me, the one who said she loved me and whose love I’d done my best to return. I can see her face, her dress, her eyes, but the whole rest of the room? Couldn't tell you a thing about it. I don't remember the music, or even the people around us, except to gently guide the woman who was the light of my life away from hitting anyone.
It was the dance that lasted forever and the dance I wanted to never end.
Although I had (months before) decided in my heart that I would in all likelihood marry this woman, I remember one of the thoughts fleeting through my head being something like “This is the woman I want to marry. Thank you, God, for leading my life to intersect with hers. Following God in keeping this person in my life will be the best decision I ever made.”
Then the music ended, the room faded back into view, and it seemed that life had to somehow fit back into a normal routine. I preferred “lost with 'my' girl in our own world” better... Not having good words in which to fit my feelings, I thanked her for the dance as politeness encouraged, and wandered off into whatever came next in the programme.
Even that night, I knew I should mention to Mary just how highly I valued her. I never did, though – one of the very few regrets of my relationship. To borrow words, “if [I] was looking for [an] opportune moment, that was it.” There were other slightly less opportune moments, but I passed them up too.
Just as I never told her how special that waltz was although I realized it at the time, so in the subsequent months, I've realized that Mary was the cause of other changes in my life. My life has changed in many ways. She's no longer around to get that recognition (and that's OK), but the repercussions still echo through my life.
God, through Flatirons, is finishing the work that my ex-girlfriend started. This is the work of growing me into the man I've been created to be. The work of breaking off all the dirt and scabs that I've accumulated so that I can stretch into all that God has intended for me.
“The dancing body seems unaware of its surroundings. It seems to be concerned only with itself and one other object-the earth. The earth, the ground, the solid place, the plane on which everyday life plods along, the plane of walking, the prose of human movement.”
- Copeland & Cohen
For the last couple years, my younger sister has invited me to the annual Civil War Ball. It apparently is intended as a “prom” substitute for homeschool kids, which makes it host to all kinds of interesting social phenomena. Being rather well-adjusted for a homeschool kid (being an adult out on my own helps), I tended to ignore the drama and enjoy the dancing. Besides swing, “old-school” dancing is the only style I can understand and/or enjoy.
The first year I went, I had just started dating Mary and hadn't thought to invite her. This led to much consternation from my sister and her friends – I'm pretty sure they thought she was an imaginary character. I atoned for myself the second year, though, offering an invite early to provide plenty of time for her to plan her dress and all that stuff girls are into. I did have somewhat of a situational-awareness advantage, both because I attended the year before and because I was able to attend the precursor introductory dance class. I already had picked out the dances I was interested in (most of them) and the ones I would skip (the hat dance...ugh).
Among the Virginia Reel, the Grand Procession, and all those other dances to which I have forgotten the names, there are a couple waltzes over the course of the night. One follows tradition with the young men asking the young ladies, while the other reverses the trope by being “ladies' choice”. I vaguely remember the first waltz. I think I asked a young lady I had met earlier that day because she was friendly, polite, and a good dancer. I thought I knew how the second would play out, but I only knew part.
As the previous dance ended and the second waltz was announced, I tried to circle unobtrusively around to where Mary could find me, but ended up behind her and out of her vision. As I wondered if she'd actually find me, I was rather gratified to note the enthusiasm she put into locating me. (Hey, I like to be valued too. Don't hate.) Finally she came over and asked if I wanted this dance; an offer to which I quickly acquiesced.
You know that stereotype where couples get lost in each others' eyes? That's one of those things that people make up to over-romanticize their lives, right?
I don't remember much about that dance. Like, only in flashes. I remember the young lady in front of me, the one who said she loved me and whose love I’d done my best to return. I can see her face, her dress, her eyes, but the whole rest of the room? Couldn't tell you a thing about it. I don't remember the music, or even the people around us, except to gently guide the woman who was the light of my life away from hitting anyone.
It was the dance that lasted forever and the dance I wanted to never end.
Although I had (months before) decided in my heart that I would in all likelihood marry this woman, I remember one of the thoughts fleeting through my head being something like “This is the woman I want to marry. Thank you, God, for leading my life to intersect with hers. Following God in keeping this person in my life will be the best decision I ever made.”
Then the music ended, the room faded back into view, and it seemed that life had to somehow fit back into a normal routine. I preferred “lost with 'my' girl in our own world” better... Not having good words in which to fit my feelings, I thanked her for the dance as politeness encouraged, and wandered off into whatever came next in the programme.
Even that night, I knew I should mention to Mary just how highly I valued her. I never did, though – one of the very few regrets of my relationship. To borrow words, “if [I] was looking for [an] opportune moment, that was it.” There were other slightly less opportune moments, but I passed them up too.
Just as I never told her how special that waltz was although I realized it at the time, so in the subsequent months, I've realized that Mary was the cause of other changes in my life. My life has changed in many ways. She's no longer around to get that recognition (and that's OK), but the repercussions still echo through my life.
God, through Flatirons, is finishing the work that my ex-girlfriend started. This is the work of growing me into the man I've been created to be. The work of breaking off all the dirt and scabs that I've accumulated so that I can stretch into all that God has intended for me.
posted by The student of life at 3:04 PM
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