The quest towards the meaning of life, to somebody, might mean a psychedelia between fingers and guitar strings, or the act of jumping off from a helicopter which is eons away from earth, or is simply a romance between hardwood and obscure yoga constrictions.
The meaning of life is vast. Its range may contain charting the highest of mountains to smelling the funkiest of armpits.
Dancing, to some, is more than the meaning of life. To some, it is life per se.
Don’t get me wrong though. I am not a dancer. My hip does not and cannot gyrate to any ‘danceable’ tune, my brain does not give a flying fart about unified bodily movements and that I have also invented a thousand of reasons to excuse myself away from my Dancing Fundamentals class.
However, having observed James Brown, Michael Jackson and those people who did the Macarena, it can be concluded that there is more to dancing than numbered movements amid an unproductive PE session.
Let me rephrase the words of the great George Carlin and say that dancers are the people who can hear the music.
Dancing is such a sophisticated form of art that it only cares for a chosen few— gifted people who are artistic enough to interpret music through complex bodily movements.
I mean, who could not see the electricity that flowed in James Brown’s veins? Who could not feel the excitement in Michael Jackson’s moonwalk? Who could hear Pitch Perfect’s “I Saw The Sign” and not remember the Universal Motion Dancers?
Now I might be the last person to learn the moonwalk, but it is crystal clear that dancing inspires generations and generations of people whose thinking cannot be boxed by the most poetic words, the most anthemic chord pattern, and by God knows what media this earth of ours offers— a kind of thinking that could only be channeled when the human body, as a whole, acts as God’s flawless, almost fluid canvass.
Now, I think that you’d agree that if the meaning of life is vast; then dancing might well be an ocean.