Dreams, Destiny, and Dance
by Rosemary Fitzgerald
Part 1
Some years ago, a gentleman whom I’d never met urged me in a rich Texas twang to “Git up and dance, girl! Yew git up and let the joy of your heart shine.”
As one of those generously gifted individuals who can simply look at another or sense their energies over any geographical distance, he had no need to meet me to record on tape his interpretation of my immediate circumstances and problems, as well as the causes and solutions as they related to the soul. I was in England; the tape was made in Canada at the request of my mother, who knew I was going through protracted difficulties.
The gentleman stressed repeatedly that the life-path I had abandoned as a result of having “the fiery darts of adversaries” thrown at me was one of glorious fun and life lived to the fullest right here on earth. Never mind the afterlife, girl, just “Git back up and live again!”
Noting correctly the extent of my remarkably energetic prenatal antics, he indicated that my path was planned by a higher power long before I was even “birthed into this life” and that it was undoubtedly meant to continue in public as one of remarkably energetic participation. (He liked the word “kicking” a lot.) However, it never occurred to me once in the seven years between first hearing all this and my first dance lesson that I might take “get up and dance” in the literal sense. When I did, I remembered his words ruefully.
“One of the dancers asked me if I would be interested in a free introductory lesson. I said ‘Yes!’ without hesitation. That was effectively the end of Night and the beginning of Day for me. It was that simple.”
Night and Day Dance was the instrument of this revelation, and for me their name has an undeniable irony. I met them while I was listening to a friend’s five-piece band playing Latin and swing music outdoors. The sunshine, the pleasure of passers-by, the absorption of the musicians in their delivery of delicious sound, and the sight of a couple suddenly dancing beautifully and smoothly right there on the sidewalk all conspired to surprise me with a deluge of pure longing. “How to be part of this?”
Three decades’ worth of reasons for not being an active part of such pleasure started to dissolve under this longing. I got into conversation with the graceful, mysterious sidewalk dancers and learned that they taught dance. As the band was ending its performance, I was still lapping up every note and moving as much as I would allow myself. One of the dancers asked me if I would be interested in a free introductory lesson. I said “Yes!” without hesitation. That was effectively the end of Night and the beginning of Day for me. It was that simple.
