|Photo by Brevite|
Wednesday night I left my kids in the care of my husband and headed to the city. I listened to my own music on the way there. I sat at a restaurant and ate a nice quiet dinner, during which I didn't have to pop every three minutes to get something for someone. In other words, it was heaven.
After dinner, I went to see the dance company of one of my favorite choreographers. It was my first time seeing them. Although I could only afford a balcony seat at the National Theatre, which feels a bit like you may fall at any time, I was thrilled to be there.
I debate with my husband all the time about the power of dance. He sees it as a bunch of people jumping around the stage flailing their arms about. (Pretty much his exact words.) I sigh and try to explain the years and years of training the body that is required to do that one move that looks incredibly simple but is in fact extremely hard. I also spent twenty minutes discussing what choreography means to the choreographer and to the dancer and to the audience. The intended meaning and the meanings we take away.
He was still lost.
For me, though, Wednesday night was thrilling. The training of the dancers, the costumes, the concept, the props...there were all so, so good. The partner work and the intensely creative choreography left me in awe. There were many moments in the piece when I just wanted to scream, "Keep dancing, keep dancing!" I could have died and gone to heaven right then and my life would be complete. Well, not really, but it felt like it in the moment.
Great art lifts us out of the everyday. It takes us to a different place for awhile. It draws us in to their world and transforms us while we are there. We leave changed, inspired, uplifted.
We leave wanting to dance.