I dance in the street because there is an unstoppable force that comes from the deepest depths within me that pushes me out my door and into the big world. When that force finds me, and takes hold of me, I am a hopeless slave to it’s urging.
I dance in the street because when that force finds me, it has no respect for my edges. My heart bursts open like the Grinch’s heart did on Christmas day. My skin can no longer contain my body. My house can no longer contain my dance. I become too big to be held in by these containers and I spill out onto the street because I simply have no choice.
I dance in the street because I long for more alive and more honest and more awkward. Because I want to see the real you, what you really long for. I want to know what really matters to you. Desperately. I want to see you and you and you come alive in the common streets. As if my own life depends on it. I hope that my gesture of awkwardness inspires something in you to be awkward with me. Dance with me, pause with me, stay with me. Eye to eye. Tell me something other than,”I’m doing fine thank you.” Because are you? Are you really so fine?
I dance in the street because I can’t do it alone.
I dance in the street because I have a longstanding and committed love affair with the earth. The grandest of dance floors. Not that we don’t have our moments, moments when I relentlessly test and resist her, but in the end, she has never let me down and I’m no fool. I know that any lover that devoted is worth my devotion in return.
I dance in the street because sometimes I’m an ungrateful lover and space just seems so damned hot and sexy. I get so damned aroused and shamelessly devour the space around me. I dance in the street because in these shameless moments, I’m like a helpless addict, drunk and intoxicated on space and no amount of it can ever satisfy my hunger.
I dance in the street because one day, not too long ago before the dance really found me, I saw this little girl dancing at a festival. I watched her in awe. I wanted to dance too but my mind conjured up reason after reason why adults don’t dance in the street. I dance in the street because I woke up one day and decided to listen to my body instead of my mind.
I dance in the street because the raw elements of nature make me feel so fucking alive. Because as a little girl, when it rained out I thought YES, THANK JESUS, and nothing could stop me from spilling out on the street and getting wet and cold and muddy. I dance in the rainy streets because I know that I’m not made of sugar or shit and no amount of rain can dissolve me and dancing in the rain delights and honours my little girl.
I dance in the street because I want to honour my little girl. Because I appreciate that she knows how to live a life of simple joy and fulfillment. Because honouring her keeps life colourful and infinitely more interesting. Because honouring her tells her that it’s safe and worthwhile to keep nudging at me. I honour her by dancing in the street because I never ever want her to stop nudging me.
I dance in the street for love. Because sometimes there are these magical moments when love brings everything together in a perfect orchestration. When I lovingly trust and yield and push off the earth. When I embrace and push off of space such that I feel like my arms are like wings and I can take flight. When I fall in love with you and you and you and feel my place in the flow of community. In the flow of something bigger, more mysterious and intelligent than I can ever know. When I fall in love with myself, wholly, simply and divinely. When I fall in love with myself just because and despite.