Dance Until You're Sweating

I love watching people dance who absolutely do not care what anyone thinks of them and are only wrapped up in the pure joy and freedom of the uninhibited moment.
Most of the time, I would prefer to be dancing myself rather than watching. But there have been times when I am stuck to a wall or chair, in observation mode, for whatever reason. Good thing, because I have seen some really great dancing from that position.
I had a good friend in high school who had no sense of rhythm and didn't seem to notice or care. She danced with abandon, and I danced self-consciously beside her, pitying her awkward flailing moves. Who do you think had the most fun at dances? It certainly wasn't me.
One of the many things I loved about Colorado was that people there love to dance - everyone and everybody, to any kind of music. If there's a trio busking on the sidewalk downtown, chances are somebody is dancing. At music festivals, small and large, in city streets and mountain meadows, people dance.
In Texas, not so much.
A couple of weeks ago, we went to a BBQ cookoff in Austin. Some of Chuck's buddies from work were cooking on a team there. A great band was playing classic rock on a flatbed trailer and a handful of people were standing around watching. Nobody was dancing. I told Chuck, "If this were Colorado, those people would be dancing."
I admit, I was not dancing either. Although I have overcome most of the shy self-consciousness that has plagued me most of my life, I still haven't gotten to the point where I will dance alone.
Ok, I take that back. I have sometimes danced alone but that only happened after I imbibed too many cocktails in a very short span of time. My life goal is to someday have the confidence and freedom to be that uninhibited on my own, without alcoholic influence.
Last year, I went to Big Barn BBQ to watch a band play. I went alone but there were other friends of mine there, distant acquaintances. I did not dance that night either, but I watched a couple on the dance floor. They were older than me, probably in their late 50s. They didn't touch and rarely made eye contact, but they moved together like the gears of a clock. Their 1960s groove was in pure sync - the lady frugged and spun in circles, her man shimmying around her. They reminded me of the couple dancing in "It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World," and I loved it.
My Central Texas Social Club recently met at the Walburg Restaurant biergarten. The large outdoor area was full of people, and so was the dance floor. We sat at a picnic table in back, behind the dance pavilion. Folks were having a great time - children, teenagers, adults and senior citizens. Daddies danced with their little girls, grandmas danced with babies. My cousins danced, but I did not. My sweetie is not a dancer, and I was in a semi-foul mood for no particular reason. So I observed instead, sipping my beer and chatting with the cousins.
But next time. Oh, next time, I will dance. If I have to, I will dance alone, shuffling and twirling, shimmying and swirling, eyes closed then lifted in wonder and abandon to the band and the people around me.
I won't care who's watching or seeing or judging, because I will be there. Dancing.

"And then take yourself out dancing, to a club where no one knows you, stand on the outside of the floor until the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching because they’re probably not. And if they are, assume it is with best human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats, is after-all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating. And beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things. Down your back, like a book of blessings."
- from "How To Be Alone" by Tanya Davis