First time leaving the house today, like most days.
Like always, I’m a little miffed that metro cards don’t transfer between Atlantic and Fulton street. It’s the only reasonable way to get to Greenpoint on the train and you pay for each swipe. $2.75 twice in one direction? Fine.
I used to be an Unlimited gal, but working from home and having a car means paying by ride is slightly more affordable. Still, seeing the repeated transactions throughout the month pangs more than just taking the one-time plunge. Maybe I should go back to unlimited.
It’s a question. One of those New York questions that still takes up a bit too much brain space, even though I’ve thought about it a hundred times.
I’m on the way to meet friends…to go dancing. (!)
Another New York question: where can I go dance that isn’t expensive and where I won’t leave feeling sexually harassed? Also - I don’t want it to be very crowded. I need to MOVE.
Well, the answer is on Tuesday nights in Greenpoint. And you know, I’ve known this was the answer for months.
I subscribe to a weekly newsletter called The Joy List and every week I’ve been seeing something about it. $5. Lights off, in a church. Everyone just does their thing.
My girlfriends are running late, texting me apologies, but I don’t mind. I’m so happy to be doing this.
I grab a table at Goldie’s and check out the drink menu. I’ll wait and see what they want. Ten minutes later, we’ve all arrived and decide on something fun. Shots of tequila and a can of Tecate. Yum.
I mean, that’s how I felt afterward. I wasn’t so sure about the shot thing, just because it had been, well, years, but I was up for it. And it wasn’t so bad. Squeeze of lime - all good.
We catch up and wait about 10 minutes after the event starts to make our way over. We enter to loud (but not too loud) dance music blaring in the gym of a church, gentle lights twinkling on the ceiling and a dozen people moving in their own particular way.
It’s dark enough to not see features on faces, but not so dark that you run into anyone. Perfect.
We set our things down and start to dance, wildly. In whatever way we want. Or I should say, I want. I only know what I felt, which was a delicious freedom to be BIG and expansive, dramatic. My dance training coming out in ways that don’t see the light of day much. It’s been so long since I’ve formally trained I wouldn’t want to be judged on the caliber of some modern dancer that I’m not. I wouldn’t get picked up at an audition for my skill - but I might for my enthusiasm. My fearlessness. My connection to the music.
The dancers in this room are all levels. Some with no training, just bodies that like to move (and how wonderful is that?!) and some who are like me, trained but not professionals, with a style of their own and a deliberateness that is compelling.
I don’t know how many times I looked up dance events last year and didn’t go. I even bought tickets to The Get Down once but then had to give them away when a poetry gig came up. I denied myself the adventure for so long.
But not in 2018.
It isn’t a resolution. Or an intention.
It’s an action I’m taking.
Moving in public in expansive ways.
Sure, professional dance was the path not taken. Ballet the thing that got me restricting food in the first place when I realized I was behind in my training.
But dancing is integral to my soul.
So even though leaves have covered that path, I'm interpreting them now as more material to play with.
In the dark, in the light, this year I’m doing it:
How about you?