I just got home from a very close friend's 18th birthday. Complete, of course, with the semi-formal evening wear, the program, the food. Complete with family and friends and surprises. And oh, there was a lot of dancing going on too.
I had tons of fun and a majorly disastrous wardrobe malfunction, ate some, danced a lot, and basically managed to embarrass myself in more ways than one. All in a night's partying.
But some time near the end of the event, I got tired of all the awful dancing and ended up staring at disco lights, and thinking.
The first thing I realized was that staring at a rotating, multi-colored ball of light for too long will make you nauseous. Which might explain why I thought this blog post up in the first place. If this piece is just the nausea talking, I sure hope it makes a lot more sense than I do.
I figured, 18 years is a long time. It's long enough for you to grow, either into the person you wanted and planned on being, or into such a far shot from who you thought you would be.
I thought, if life were a dance floor, then my personal purpose would be to bring utter embarrassment on myself as long as I lived. Damn. But anyway.
Life can be a dance floor, I guess. People come and stay indefinitely. They dance with us through a song, or two, or more. There are even times when we feel alone on that dance floor, while the world watches on. But there are times when it's filled with people we love and that's when we feel most secure.
There's always music, of course. All our lives have soundtracks. Sometimes it's all fun and party music, but there are times when we have to dance slow, and save room for talking, or thinking, and being serious.
There's the disco ball too, casting different colors of light on the dance floor. A romantic glow of red, perhaps, or a lively yellow, or some melancholy shade of blue. Disco lights, like emotions, do make us nauseous sometimes, especially when we dwell on them for too long. But we should never shut it off. A dance floor without disco lights is not quite as fun, and life with emotions all shut off, is not like life at all.
And we don't all glide on the dance floor in the same way. Some people are graceful on the dance floor, in analogy living their lives with an ease and comfort that others would covet. Others, still, are scared to move. You have to push them onto the dance floor, but then they refuse to try and dance. And most of us, I guess, may not be born with the grace, but refuse to be immobilized by the fear. I, for one, know that I don't know half of what I do on the dance floor, but I keep trying. It may not look perfect--it comes off a little too clumsy, even--but I do my best. And I never forget to enjoy every moment.
So, life is a dance floor. Over the years of dancing, we grow up (and optionally grow old), people come and go, lights spin, and we find our own way on it.
But all that matters to me is that some people are here to stay, to lead me through awkward steps, to slow-dance with me and share thoughts, or just to be wacky and fun. With that knowledge I can bask in the multi-colored spinning lights, and make my clumsy way through life with a smile. After all, we just have to move in rhythm with the music.
I figured, 18 years is a long time. It's long enough for you to grow, either into the person you wanted and planned on being, or into such a far shot from who you thought you would be.
I thought, if life were a dance floor, then my personal purpose would be to bring utter embarrassment on myself as long as I lived. Damn. But anyway.
Life can be a dance floor, I guess. People come and stay indefinitely. They dance with us through a song, or two, or more. There are even times when we feel alone on that dance floor, while the world watches on. But there are times when it's filled with people we love and that's when we feel most secure.
There's always music, of course. All our lives have soundtracks. Sometimes it's all fun and party music, but there are times when we have to dance slow, and save room for talking, or thinking, and being serious.
There's the disco ball too, casting different colors of light on the dance floor. A romantic glow of red, perhaps, or a lively yellow, or some melancholy shade of blue. Disco lights, like emotions, do make us nauseous sometimes, especially when we dwell on them for too long. But we should never shut it off. A dance floor without disco lights is not quite as fun, and life with emotions all shut off, is not like life at all.
And we don't all glide on the dance floor in the same way. Some people are graceful on the dance floor, in analogy living their lives with an ease and comfort that others would covet. Others, still, are scared to move. You have to push them onto the dance floor, but then they refuse to try and dance. And most of us, I guess, may not be born with the grace, but refuse to be immobilized by the fear. I, for one, know that I don't know half of what I do on the dance floor, but I keep trying. It may not look perfect--it comes off a little too clumsy, even--but I do my best. And I never forget to enjoy every moment.
So, life is a dance floor. Over the years of dancing, we grow up (and optionally grow old), people come and go, lights spin, and we find our own way on it.
But all that matters to me is that some people are here to stay, to lead me through awkward steps, to slow-dance with me and share thoughts, or just to be wacky and fun. With that knowledge I can bask in the multi-colored spinning lights, and make my clumsy way through life with a smile. After all, we just have to move in rhythm with the music.
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