A Frighteningly Beautiful Dance

frighteningly_beautiful_danceThere’s so much more to glean from this then the fact that I danced my tookus off, so please read it fully…

At the National Native Media Awards Banquet this past week, participants were able to watch traditional dances performed by a Mayan tribe from Mexico. Their regalia was so extravagant and colorful that my heart leapt in anticipation as rich greens and vibrant blues and such brilliant whites entered the room upon the backs of dancers.

It was like watching history come to life, right before your very eyes.

I was transported to a time when a person’s attire really, truly mattered as it bespoke of what each person loved most in life, who they belonged to, and where they were going. When dancing wasn’t just a fun outlet for letting off steam, but an actual story to the Creator and those around you. These people oozed vibrancy and life in ways that modern people just don’t seem to have anymore as they move about in their prescheduled, drone-like lives.

And everyone in the room knew it.

Tweets went ignored and images were left unpinned as people in the audience stopped what they were doing to watch. While some groups started standing for better views, others abandoned their meals in their haste to get closer, to see more, to hear more – to experience it up front and center.

Life resonated in the room and everyone wanted a piece of it.


The dancers jumped and kicked and hopped and stomped and twisted and turned and so fully threw themselves into every movement they made. It was as if the intensity of each of their movements and each beat from the drum and the shake of the thunder gourds was so crucial, so pivotal, that it had to be conveyed in this exact moment or it never would.

It was glorious.

It was awing.

It was a story told on the most elemental level and it shook everyone. Myself included.

Then they invited the audience to dance. And my desire to be apart of this wonderful moment led me to their side as we swayed in unison and held hands, moving at such a frighteningly beautiful pace that the earth itself once again became a stage for celebration. As I jumped and twisted and bent and ran, everything in me came alive. My body was shaking as my soul thrived in ways I’d forgotten that it could.

And when the movements died down and the tribal members said their goodbyes, my heart had a moment of true recognition. This was it. This was life at its fullest.

And that’s what I want the most.

So I sat, steadying myself into calmness while my body returned to the earth’s natural rhythm. And I wrote.

And I’m still writing.


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