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Who knew that waltzing could change your writing?
I certainly hadn’t anticipated a connection. Not I, the
Point A to Point B mom of four busy sons. My initial goal was to maneuver
around a wedding reception dance floor with my husband. After passing that milestone
we set a new goal: to pursue a new venture—ballroom dancing--together. The
romance stemming from that pursuit certainly hasn’t hurt the effort.
But as we’ve learned ballroom figures the goal has softened.
Slow down. Draw out the seconds. Refuse to rush to a destination on the floor. Savor
the music falling not only on but across the beats. Why? There is deep value in
every tiny movement. There is treasure in a slow unfolding. And particularly in
waltz there is powerful and purposeful rise and fall through the drawn out
turns.
So how does waltzing influence writing?
It creates joy in progress. Goals are good. They provide
purpose, direction and motivation. But we are impatient to arrive. If we rush at
our goals we severely diminish the delight we might have savored in the
movement toward those good goals.
It creates beauty. How? Every moment is committed to arcing
progress. The beauty comes from the curving arc through a point, not a bee line
to the point, a pause, and then a rush to the next point. Rather than writing
nothing for days, then writing for hours—as I have today—give yourself a bit of
time to write even in the over full days. Those moments will likely be lovely.
It creates a weightlessness because movement is balanced and
well timed. Rushing creates extraneous movement, which leads to a greater rush
to regain lost time, and that rush throws the whole dance out of balance. But
if you and I continue in unhurried movement, our writing—and even daily
demands—can feel less weighty.
So if the ballroom serves as writing classroom what might
one glean from, say, a foxtrot?
