rhythm

I dance. All the time. If there's music playing, you can bet that my feet are moving and my arms are doing something ridiculous. I dance at work. I dance in the kitchen, improvising to make an interpretive dance for whoever's around. I dance at school. I dance in my room, in the rain, on the shore of the ocean. I love to dance. We used to go dancing every week, and I loved that. Now I just make up my own moves, and I love that too. I used to dance in the House of Prayer, leaping and twirling like a little girl in a meadow. A dance of freedom. I traded that to go "dancing" at the club, but that was more like shaking my butt and looking like a gross weirdo.

Last night, I danced at the House of Prayer again. I felt kind of awkward at first even raising my hands, like I didn't deserve to worship God. What a crazy thought, but that's how I felt. And then, I started laughing. And I started jumping. And from across the room, Katie was grooving and we were laughing and she came over and we danced together. We spun in circles, my hair flying everywhere, a smile pasted to my face. We danced in sync, doing the same move when our feet got tired. We brushed our shoulders off, shook our hips, did the lean wit it rock wit it. We were silly and alive and wonderful. I have not felt that free in longer than I'd like to admit. I have not experienced joy like that in so long. Pure joy, that makes me feel like a child who's never committed a wrong.

(I felt I needed to document how ridiculous my smile was, because it wasn't going away. And my puffy eyes from crying so much. I look terrible, but I am joyful, so I look wonderful.)

Today I feel so light, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like I can rest again. I feel like I want to dance for joy.

sarah∞mae