Latin beats. Doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t keep still. No matter where I am, no matter my mood, my state of sober, the company or lack thereof. There’s nothing I can do. It taps into my soul. It makes my nerves fizz, my muscles move. Even as I am sitting here, in this chair, solo, in a nightclub. Watching young couples partner off, find a rhythm, connect, contract, swing wide. It is hip-swaying and joyful. It is an unfurling and the taste of freedom. Uninhibited, sensual. It is at once wisdom of generations and an expression of youthful hope. A frenzy, a focused movement. A step away, a coming together. It never ceases to make me smile, to make me relax, to create a desire to let go; growing small tidy steps into sweeping motion.
This is where hearts heal. In the grounding, in the crawling over a dance floor, in the evolution. Up on to toes, back down into release.
Written at 3am, in a bar.