There’s always one isn’t there?
The one who when you go to a small to medium-sized gig who is on their own, at the front of the crowd, dancing.
Like there’s no tomorrow.
Or like they were born for that moment.
Like this was the last chance they would ever have to dance, to experience music, to live.
Back before Christmas I was contemplating writing poetry about the mundane aspects of life, and one of my intended subjects was this person. But I realised that not only was I never going to write poetry, this person was no mere figure of banality. This was a person to aspire to be.
I fear though that I will never be the person on their own dancing at the front of the gig.
Having grown up as a terribly shy and retiring small girl in a big world it has taken a lot of work to be able to learn how to talk to people, how to be in a room with a crowd and not feel entirely diminished by it, how to recognise who I am and attempt to feel at one with it.
This last one is big. Working out who you are, what you want, what you don’t want, what you are prepared to do, what you can do is big. It is big for anyone. Especially in these days of over-exposure to potential opportunity. There is too much. Too much of anything can be tough.
It is really hard to get back to thinking about who you are.
Probably most of us will never really know the answer to that question.
All we can do is take time out to assess the situation. Having a bath and contemplating life is always a good idea. So is sometimes saying no to doing things. But so is saying yes to doing things.
I have learned that despite many years of being completely and utterly afraid to start a conversation with another human being, and then once the conversation had begun being unable to think of anything to actually say, actually going out and seeing people and doing things is fantastic (and prevents me from going a little bit mad from overexposure to my own imagination).
I have become grown up into a social animal, my friends would never now describe me as “shy”, or “serious”, “quiet”, or “unsociable”… all of which I have previously been labelled with, amongst other things.
But I will never be the person on their own dancing at the front of the gig.
That takes a special kind of switching off.
Of being entirely in the moment.
Of knowing that in that moment the only option is to dance. No matter how ridiculous that dancing may be. Not thinking that perhaps there is just a little bit too much flailing of the arms going on. Or that so much head shaking may destroy more brain cells than is healthy.
It is uncompromising.
Most of us will never be the person on their own dancing at the front of the gig.
But I think that it is a state of mind to aspire to.
The state of just not giving a shit.