Dance, dance, wherever I may be

For years I have felt occasional urges to dance, but have not listened to them. Oh yes, I do sometimes attend parties at which I dance. But that's not what I'm talking about here. What I mean is a more consistent practice of dancing.

Since I've moved to Nanaimo, I've become interested in the Sacred Circle Dancing at the Unitarian Fellowship. Unfortunately it conflicts with the Pacific Gardens Cohousing Community's shareholder meetings, which are held on Thursday nights.

I am in the process of exploring if the shareholder meetings could be moved to another night. If not, we have only a few more months of the construction phase left, and then I expect some let up in our schedule of meetings.

In the meantime, I am just playing music and dancing in my living room. I am feeling drawn to African music, which reminds me of my childhood in Swaziland. Thanks to You Tube, I've found some familiar clips.

When I was a young child, my parents were pioneers in the bush. We were the only white family in a radius of thirty miles. Every night I used to fall asleep to the sound of the drums that the Swazi people used to play while they told stories and danced around their fires. To my ear, drum beats are the most soothing sounds in the world.

When I recently spent several nights on the living room couch of friends in Nanaimo, because severe weather prevented me from reaching my home in a rural area, I found the ticking sound of their clock very restful. When I reported that on the first morning, they expressed surprise. In fact they felt embarrassed that they'd forgotten to take the clock down before I'd settled in for the night. They said that the loud ticking had disturbed previous guests. I responded, "Oh, please leave your clock where it is. I love it." To my taste, it wasn't quite as good as a drum, but it was the next best thing.