Wednesday, October 1, 2014

a happy sort of dance.

just so you know my house is not that clean.
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my floors are gross. every day i look at the bottoms of my bare feet and think, eweeee.
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just so you know, i really struggle with envy and pride.
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so i went to a zumba class yesterday and i was enthralled by the instructor. she was so cheerful and fashionable. she had those saggy-butt pants we old people attribute to mc hammer. shiny, gold high tops. i think her tank top said something like, "queen" or "goddess."
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i was seriously thinking about how much cooler she looked than i did. well, i'm a costume kid. we costume kids love a good "look."
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oh, i can spot a good "look." the most covetable looks to me are as follows; 1. put-together mom 2. hipster diva. naturally the most intimidating "look" is the put-together-hipster-diva mom.
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oh, brother. megan, are you for real?
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anyway, i was in this zumba class thinking like this. then, like magic, i got caught in the music and the motion. i came alive in the steps and forgot how stupid i probably looked. i just forgot everything, lost to the dance. and i became sublimely happy.
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at the water fountain a woman approached me. she had that put-together-mom look, but that's besides the point. actually not. the point includes my cyclical return to envy and pride. so, she walked up to me and said, "i love working out with you! you have so much energy and you remind me to just stop worrying so much and remember that this is actually enjoyable."
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can i access that dance brain when the music is off?
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can i just live joyfully and forget the rest?
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a few weeks back ossi was telling me about the neighbor across the street. he never wants to play ossi's games. usually liam, finn, and evy follow this kid's lead just for a change. ossi said, "it's just that when bryant comes over he acts like a flower and i'm just a seed. but i want him to know that i'm the flower and he's the seed. that's why i go get my coolest costume on. because he needs to know that i'm the flower and he's the seed." i had to think about it. then i realized that he does exactly that. he goes upstairs and comes back down with his tightest skinny jeans, his clunkiest boots, some kind of cool shirt and jacket, and like five toy weapons strapped all over with belts. it's his put-together-hipster-hero boy look.
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poor guy. the kid's six with a long road ahead. i'm twenty-nine and i still haven't figured this weakness out.
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i'm thinking that the solution is found in layers of understanding... understanding what really makes someone a flower...and in that, understanding that we are all flowers. perhaps healing comes in pushing out comparison while keeping the admiration. i can think these things, yes, but i know there is a piece missing that leaves the brain and purges the heart. there is some power to be unlocked, some ability. it goes back to the music and the dance...
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a happy sort of life-dance that can happen, even on dirty floors.

i'll tell you if i ever get there.


Staci said...

Thoroughly enjoyed this post!!

Staci said...

btw I envy almost everything about you.