VERY RECENTLY I SERIOUSLY SCARED MYSELF SILLY and while I do make it a point to scare myself on a daily basis, this one was a hair raiser.
No, I didn’t join toastmasters and start a public speaking career though this is definitely on my terror bucket list list. It was something completely different. In fact, if you told me I’d be doing this a year ago I would’ve sputtered, “ Are you out of your Vulcan mind!?”.
As you may know from a previous post, I’ve taken up belly dance. Before passing away, Farouche, my dance instructor beseeched me to “join the troupe, I know talent when I see it”. Naturally, feeling mighty encouraged I promised her that I would. That was ok because I knew the next performance was seven month away. Lots of time to prepare.
Funny how things have a way of creeping up on you because before I could say ‘shimmy this’, that first performance date which included three group numbers numbers had snuk up on me. Oh, not only that, but, silly me had somehow volunteered to do not one, but two solos. The second only because Katrina, the Goddess of fast paced, perfectly synchronized drum solo shimmies was unavailable that day. The troupe was stuck without a gal to do her super sweat inducing drum solo dance.
Katrina’s the bomb, absolutely mesmerizing to watch.
Boy, I’d really done it this time…what was I thinking! For my own solo I had carefully selected a slinky, slower tune because it would be eeeeeasier. Now I was surely screwed, I could never hold a candle to ‘La Bomba’.
You know when your intuition tells you to do something and you just do it? Well, thank the gods that a year ago I had purchased, thinking “I’ll never wear this”, a beautifully hand crafted, heavily adorned, jingly dance belt and matching pillowy padded silver/aqua bra ensemble from Farouche. Okay so I had to add extra stuffing to the bra so it would not appear caved in.
I only bought the sparkling costume because it was so fetching, the moment I test drove it, it was mine. Who knew this die-hard tomboy was frilly at heart.
Far too quickly the day of my debut performance has arrived and after practicing half naked with wild abandon the eve before because no one was watching… I still do not feel ready. Terrified would be more accurate.
As you can imagine my little test-driven costume comes in very handy on this day because I know it’ll stay on me. No matter how much I shake it. I’ve heard horror stories about dance bras flying off at inopportune moments.
Now standing alone in front of the audience, my slow solo begins. As I start slinking to the music, the sweaty palms and nausea fade. Remembering only the very first part of all those fancy moves I had intended, something wonderfully powerful completely takes over and my entire being feels quite connected to Creative Source.
I am no longer dancing to the music, the music is dancing me.
Allowing the sense of euphoria to wash over me, such energy fills me that I seem to be magically channeling Katrina, the La Bomba Goddess for the ensuing drum solo. As I finish, perspiration trailing down my backside, I come back to earth and notice the audience smiling, clapping, even hooting with approval. I was dancing and people were watching and I didn’t care… I loved it, wheeeee!!!!!
It was downright tribal.
Ever since, I’ve felt unstoppable, it’s as if someone had rubbed my magic lantern and my genie self came out to play, forever. There’s something highly liberating about belly dancing. It taps into a woman’s core, lights her fire, ignites her passion, turbo-charges her femininity.
Definitely I’ve been lighting Blue Eyes’s fire lately when I practice the dance at home.
Think I’ll try pole dancing next, hmm… where to install the pole. The trick will be not to re-arrange my face on it as I whirl about wearing my jingly dance belt.
Moral of the story? Whatever you do, give it all you got, girl, and dance like no one is watching.