It All Comes Out in the Waltz

After a hectic day with some unexpected events, I was almost too tired to go to our local for the Scottish dancing lessons, but I had promised my friend that I would be there and I am eager to get back the rhythms of this life here, so I took a quick nap and then tried to borrow some energy by listening to the lively upbeat music of my old band, Dog Talk.

The mini nap and the music gave me enough energy to get out the door into the cold and dark for the 6 miles to Halladale Inn. The gracefully winding road has to be traveled especially slowly now because the deer are frequent visitors and they have decided that at night they own the road. A Volvo is no match for a deer, so I accede to their territorial rights and move slowly, watchfully through the night.

The dancing is already in motion when I arrive, but only a few people are there, including my friend. Both she and the dance instructor are happy to welcome me back. The first dance is Bernard's waltz. I vaguely remember the name, but I have never been good at remembering steps, so it is starting all over again. Because I am tired, the connection from feet to brain works even more slowly than usual. The man who is my partner is an experienced dancer and a very graceful teacher: "Take small steps" "When you step forward put your foot here..." and other advice help me into a semblance of the dance but a little two-beat interlude of rising on your toes and dropping your heels eludes me. I am either going up when others are on their way down or missing it altogether and then fretting so that I miss the step to the side. Very quickly all his good advice about small steps and where to put my feet has been lost somewhere between feet and brain.

The next dance is a progressive Gay Gordon, which is bascially a circle dance that allows each person to get a new partner. The steps to that one are relatively simple and it has the virtue that if you mess it up, you can move on before your partner is too exasperated with you.

The third dance is remarkably like square dancing although more fun than it ever was in grade school gym class. I know my do si do's. The next dance, however, Erin's Pride (or is it Ireland's Pride or???) is more complicated and my success with the do si dos is quickly done in by the step first on your outside leg and then swing your inside leg and step back. And then some lovely cross stepping and tapping one time and clapping the next and then back to back turns and then more inside leg kicking. When it is done right, it is quite lovely. On the odd occasion when I got it right, it also feels good.

Somewhere between Erin's Pride and the other dances, I discovered the key to a kind of equanimity. Nearly every one of the segments in these dances is defined by a waltz turn (or two or three). So, worst case, I could simply stand still, arms up like a toddler asking to be carried and eventually, I would join all the others in the right time at least for as long as the turns lasted.

Having discovered this marvelous bit of wisdom, I retired from the dance floor to sit by the fire with the old pub dog, Floyd, until it was time to head home again. Next week I'll dance more and worry less.