I had a feeling that would grab your attention. It certainly grabbed mine. It sounded really fun and a little dirty when my friend Karen suggested it, so I decided to tag along, being adventurous and open to the somewhat unclean. It felt like it was time to try something new and exciting, and it was definitely time to blog.
Friends have been asking why I haven't blogged in a while, and I've been saying I've been too busy, but the truth is I haven't been in the mood. I know. As Norman Mailer put it, "being a real writer means being able to do the work on a bad day." It's just that blogging connects me to my friends, family, acquaintances and to the world and lately I haven't wanted to connect. Sometimes when I'm working through something, I don't feel secure and grounded and connecting during those times makes me feel a bit too vulnerable. So I've been taking a break.
Nothing devastating happened, I just saw the new year as an opportunity to start from zero, so I chose not to move all my regular activities, hobbies, projects, friends and even lingering romances over to 2013 without careful examination. I looked at where I didn't have power and freedom, I looked at where I wasn't experiencing love and affinity and joy, and I did all those things that everyone does to get clarity; yoga, meditation, even transformational workshops and astrological guidance. And after all of that, my first Wet Wednesday re-affirmed that I was indeed ready to re-enter the world and open my heart, which has been closed for maintenance for a bit.
But back to Wet Wednesdays before the suspense kills you. It's a dance class, although that doesn't feel like enough of a description for this extraordinary experience/phenomenon.
Perhaps if I tell you a bit about Ryan Heffington, who leads the class, you'll get a better sense. The feast of character that is Ryan Heffington, has a list of accomplishments so long and impressive that he is worthy of a googling. He is on the smallish side, with long curly hair tied in a bun on top of his head, and festive dance wear. Definitely an original. I wouldn't say he's my type in any way, yet there is something strangely sexy about him; his being/spirit/soul is beautiful, his passion and love for dancing beams out of him like the sun, and I've never seen anyone more free in their body.
I walked in not knowing what to expect, but was still pretty relaxed because I had been told people who go are cool and there's no judgment. At least not until I showed up. Actually, I'm not judgy either, but I do have a fondness for categorizing people and things, putting them into neat boxes so I know how to relate to them. This proved impossible in the Wet Wednesday crowd, so my brain went through some short circuiting before it quieted down. Which worked in my favor. Because there's nothing more refreshing than when I can't put people in boxes.
The class was a mixed bag. Some dancers in varying levels of expertise, some regular people there to get a good workout, but all pretty hip I would say from the colorful and interesting attire. Bright tights, over the shoulder sweatshirts and even some leg warmers. Which wasn't strange because The Sweat Spot, where the class is held, is located in Silverlake, which Forbes Magazine recenly named America's Best Hipster Neighborhood. (Before Williamsburg nonetheless, which I guess has become so hipster it negated it's own hipster factor.)
Anyways, I felt a bit dull in my lululemon pants and matching tank top, which made sense because I have always struggled with the hipster identity that comes along with living on the east side, and always seen myself as plain. Maybe "classic" is a nicer word. Don't get me wrong, I love the east side, and it feels like home to me more than any other place I've lived in LA. And I want to wear vintage clothes, not wash my hair every day and just braid it six ways to Sunday, or do something else that's really artistic and interesting with my hair or face or body. But I can't because I end up looking ridiculous. Not sure if it's the Jewish part of me or the Swedish part of me, or if it's just that I grew up kind of preppy.
Are you exhausted yet? Welcome to my overactive and overanalytical mind. You now know why I needed this dance class. Well, it started. And it only took about five minutes for my face to develop a giant grin. Probably the biggest grin I've had in months. There was a warm up sequence with funky music and as my feet moved around, it just made me burst out laughing. When I looked over at Ashley, who I had dragged along, she was doing the same. Just laughing. But that good kind of laughing. Not laughing at anyone or anything, not because something is ridiculous, but laughing because life is short and there's so much fun to be had. And when you find something that lets you get out of your head for a bit, and makes you feel free, you feel deliriously happy.
So there we were, making grand arm gestures, jumping around and doing sassy dance moves across the room without a care in the world. We were laughing so hard we started crying and I think that's when Karen ran over to us exclaiming, "Yes! You get it!" I can't imagine anyone not getting it. Who doesn't want to prance around without any concerns to cool music? And it's a fantastic workout.
That was the first part. Then came the second part. Or the hard part. Or the part that made me feel crappy about myself. But that has more to do with the pressure I put on myself to be successful in EVERY endeavor than the actual dance class. There was some steps to learn. And when I say some steps, that's an understatement. It was a very tricky dance combination that many people picked up quickly and some were a bit slower to get. I was in the latter group. Which, if I think of it in hindsight made perfect sense because it was MY FIRST TIME.
But there, in the moment, I felt defeated and my brain saw an opportunity to start picking on me. "I can't believe you're not getting this...you should be able to do it...after all those dance classes?" I tried my best to argue back, "That was jazz...in the 80's in Sweden...c'mon...leave me alone...be quiet and let me focus." My internal dialogue didn't make following along easier, but that's when Mr. Heffington decided to crank up the volume and it got so loud, I couldn't hear myself think. Thank god.
I did my best. I got some moves down and managed to look somewhat cool while doing them. Others not so much, so I got a bit frustrated and impatient with myself. But all in all it was ok. Great even. To learn to be gentle and kind and patient with myself is one of the things I have to work out in this life time. And that's not going to happen if I only participate in activities I'm already great at. After all, it took me a whole month to nail the "Flashdance...What a Feeling" dance sequence all those years ago, so maybe give myself a few more Wet Wednesdays?
At the end when the class was winding down with some cooling down stretches, I felt happy and proud and once again, looked over at Ashley who beamed right back at me with such joy. Then all of a sudden a stretch turned into a movement that looked like everyone was sprinkling fairy dust on themselves. So I did too. And that feeling of pure bliss came back. I really loved my first Wet Wednesday and it won't be my last...it's very addicting...
Comments