June 8, 2016

Dancing My Dance

Bollywood dance pose.

I judged myself rather harshly for not catching on to Bollywood dance during the last few weeks in India. I had signed up for two classes at the Delhi Dance Academy (www.delhidanceacademy.com) with the fabulous instructor, Aditi. The classes were late in the afternoon (preferable for my schedule), and girls and women of all ages participated, although I was, let’s say, one of the more advanced in age. Two hours of dance three times a week challenged my physical stamina right away, while the warmth in the studios (despite air conditioning attempting to combat Delhi’s 110+ degree heat) made me wilt within minutes of starting class. But I couldn’t blame these factors on my disappointing learning curve. The fact remained: I could not remember the simple choreography of the routines.

It’s not like the moves are that difficult. Bollywood dance is a dance form combining traditional Indian dance with many other styles like jazz, contemporary, hip hop, and anything else the choreographers want to throw in. Hindi films may have several dance performances; the dancers, in a large group, but dancing individually, are arranged in rows facing front, sort-of like Broadway musical dance numbers. Think the ending of Slum Dog Millionaire, and you’ll get a very general idea of what’s involved. I could do the moves, usually (except when moving from lying on the floor to an upright standing position, say). So my failure to pick up the sequence of dance steps was very discouraging, and a little embarrassing.

My problem in learning choreography is not a new problem, however. During the time of my relatively short dance hobby (4 ½ years is short in dance years), I’ve primarily danced ballroom, Latin, Argentine tango, and some club dances. These are partner dances, and while, as the follower, I always want to look my best, to dance with feeling and correct technique, I rely heavily on the dance partner to think ahead to the next dance sequence; my job is to read his cues and execute the moves he is inviting me to do. In terms of learning individual dance moves, especially early on, I was a rather “quick study.” It wasn’t until I chose to participate in showcase performances (adult ballroom dance recitals) and more advanced courses that the real trouble set in: I could not easily learn and remember step sequences and choreography. I spent hours and hours rehearsing my part in my showcase routines, and even then, I wasn’t confident of the moves in the glare of the spotlight. I was told repeatedly by my professional dance instructor/performance partner that he would cover for me in the event of any catastrophic memory lapse—but it was difficult to trust 100 percent in my own ability or his.

A few years back, I participated in a local theater company’s production of the Wizard of Oz. I was in the chorus, and I could not learn the choreography of a key dance sequence. I had to ask my good friend, who happens to be blind, who was also in the chorus, to help me learn the dance.

And, years and years ago, when I was a high school cheerleader, I could not be counted on to remember cheer routines. A memorable photo in one of my yearbooks shows me as the only Varsity cheerleader out of step. Age cannot be blamed for that early inability!

So maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised at my apparent failure to memorize Bollywood dance routines.

As I pondered this inadequacy, it occurred to me that I needn’t be so hard on myself. After all, I haven’t had much practice in dancing alone. In reality, during much of my life, I’ve been dancing to the choreography of others. I’ve been doing what has been expected of me in my various roles as daughter, wife, mother, then divorced single mother, graduate student, one-time composition instructor, churchgoer, good citizen, and so on.

Maybe the problem hasn’t been the dancing! Maybe the problem has been trying to dance to someone else’s idea (or culture’s idea) (or my idea of culture’s expectations) of how I should “move!”

It’s true I’ve had a lot of “phases,” or “enthusiasms” in my life. On the surface, it would look like I had been choosing my activities, or choreographing my own life dance. I think, though, that my choices were circumscribed by what I thought would be the appropriate parameters for whatever the more important role I was enacting at the time. So, I had the (unsuccessful) nursing school phase, supportive wife phase, the jewelry-making phase, the volunteer phase, the Victorian house phase, the local-graduate-school-program phase, the hopeful fiction-writer phase, the knitting phase, the applying-for-then-opting-out-of-a-PhD-program phase, preserving fruits and vegetables phase, the famous radio show phase, the ballroom dancing phase, and many more minor phases. I don’t regret these phases; well, I don’t regret most of them. The point is that I chose them in response to how they fit around the primary role at the time: daughter, wife, mother, single mother, etc. I didn’t necessarily choose them because I could “follow” the “choreography” of each phase particularly well.

Now I’m an empty nester. If you’ve followed my blog from the beginning, you might remember that part of my justification for going to India for nearly six months was because I was at a loss as to what to do next in my life after raising children for 25 years. Anything I imagined doing for the next 30 years seemed to pale in comparison to the meaning and importance of being a stay-at-home mother. I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on the trip to India; I didn’t expect all my life questions to be answered. But I hoped that something to look forward to, something to plan, and something to DO, was better than staring down my bleak, purposeless future.

In other words, I had no one to choreograph these next dance steps for me. There were no obvious “shoulds” to fall back on. It was a scary time. In the past, no matter how badly I danced to others’ choreography, at least I was dancing.

Here’s part of what the trip to India did for me. It helped me understand that the most important question for me at this juncture in my life is not about the “meaning” and “purpose” of my life. The most important question for me is how I’m going to live out the remaining years of my life. What is my own choreography for my own life going to look like? Well, I can’t plan out the next 30 years of my life; can you?

For now, though, it is enough to say that I came back from India loving India, loving to read, research, and write about this most amazing country, and sharing my thoughts and adventures with others. (One thing about all my phases: I am, and always have been, an enthusiastic participant.) This doesn’t mean I will stop Bollywood dance, or partner dancing, but it doesn’t mean I’ll continue, either.

So stay tuned. My life’s choreography is being created, step by step. I may not be very good at creating my own choreography…yet. But that’s okay.

I’m learning to dance my own dance.

(Look forward to my next blog post: Don’t Worry, Be Happy)