The last month has been stressful, in my personal as well as professional life. The good news is that my mind has not been on cancer…or at least not MY cancer. The bad news is that most nights were spent tossing and turning and obsessing. Over what? Over real and anticipated encounters with people in my life, who, while very important to me, are often not the easiest to deal with. After about a solid week of insomnia, one becomes too exhausted to worry anymore. Leading to chronic punchiness and the usual fantasizing to cheer myself up.
On my long commutes to and from work this week, an old habit returned. When upset with seemingly insolvable relationships, I visualize a huge dance party, starring all my best friends and some of the folks whom I find most challenging. Mind you, I never imagine dancing with people I dislike. To want to touch you, I gotta like you. It’s those I hold great fondness for, but have a less than even keeled relationship with, whom I engage in my imaginary dance therapy.
This is what I propose: when business meetings get really tense, when you’ve just confronted your boss (or vise versa) with issues that arouse their inner porcupine, EVEN after a rough day waiting in line at the DMV; wouldn’t it be great if everyone could just find their places and break into dance? How easy is it to keep glaring at someone while leading them in a spirited cha cha? How irate can you stay with someone you’re twirling around your head in a mad Volta or holding in your eyes during a particularly close tango? By that point, your focus will be back to harmonizing with your now-partner and obeying the music. No more adversity; only music, rythym and heavy breathing of the sort one can do in public.
And, really, in this big dance hall we all seem to be milling about in, what else could be more important than that?