Wednesday, March 26, 2014

a time to dance

Dancing is good medicine. Powerfully good. I went to bed feeling foolish, angry and misunderstood last night, and woke up with an emotional hangover. I get in the bath and add a few drops of frankincense to the hot water for a restorative soak, but before I know it, I find myself surrounded by unhappy people. One who hasn't slept well, another who doesn't want to face his day. Minutes later, breakfast dishes are cleared, lunches are packed, and I am walking to school with my youngest son, who has video club on Wednesday morning. I asked him where the club is in the video making process, and he says they are about to begin filming. "Great!" I say, feeling anything but. I think about the fact that the video club members are lip syncing Pharrell Williams' ubiquitous anthem to being in a good mood, Happy. As we continue to walk, I recite the first lyric "It might seem crazy what I'm 'bout to say" My son replies "Sunshine, she's here, you can take a break. I'm a hot air balloon that could go to space. Oh, and I think it's about his mom, not his girlfriend" he says. "Really?" I say, "Why's that?" "Because...the next word he says is 'Momma.'" I am silent, but I feel a small spark of happiness ignite within me, and then a small smile transforming my face. "What do you think about dancing to that song on the way to school tomorrow?" I suddenly ask. It's too late for us to do it today, we agree, but I resolve to program my iPhone to remind me at 7:45 to cue the song so that we can dance-walk to it on our way to school tomorrow morning. We are happy with our resolution. We smile in anticipation of making ourselves happier, and of sharing that increased happiness, together. We hug goodbye at the school door, which always makes us feel better, and as I walk away, I take my iPhone out of my coat pocket and glance at the screen. Just one minute earlier, a text was sent by my eldest son, who's in college in NYC, about four hours away. He woke up feeling less than happy this morning, too. He writes "I wish I could just have a hug." I feel a pang - sad that he is not closer, sad that he can't have a hug from me now like his little brother just had. I think of how much I could use another hug, too, and I call him up. I tell him about my morning and about his brother's and my new resolution to start dance walking to school, beginning tomorrow. "But what about today?" he asks. It's a good question. The day is waiting for us; there is still time to reboot. "I don't know." I say. Then I tell him about a study I read about in last Sunday's New York Time. Evidently, Botox TM injections, by preventing depressed people from frowning, brought significant relief to 52% of the subjects who participated. It's really powerful to realize that when we do certain things, we really do feel happier. And it's sad to realize that we have this perverse tendency sometimes, not to choose to do these "happy-making" things when we are in a bad mood; rather, we may choose to sulk, to wallow in our bad mood, to bring others down. It's those times when we most need to hug someone, to smile, to dance, but we don't always make that choice. I wish that I always would. "Okay," I tell him. "I'm walking into the house right now. I'm going to hang up and play the song and dance along. Will you do it, too? It will be like we are dancing together!" He promises that he will, and I feel something inside me start dancing even before I hang up the phone. My soul WANTS to be happy. "Okay, so, I'm sitting on the kitchen counter right now and I find I'm wiggling a little bit, just knowing that I'm about to do this." I tell him, and he laughs. "Are you ready?" "Yes." "Let's go!" We hang up and I pull up the music video on my phone. The lyrics are uplifting, affirming. The song commands you to clap your hands and once you do, the rest of your body cannot help but join in. Singing the words, obediently clapping, dancing because I solemnly promised to, I am caught up in the affirmation of indomitable joy. My dog reclines on the kitchen floor, looking up, watching my every move, wagging her tail to the rhythm, a small, happy floor dance. And then, there's the bridge - "can't nothing bring me down", repeated over and over, and I sing along until I realize it's true. I am not down anymore. I love this silly little dance I'm doing, and I am delighted to discover that it can really be just this easy to resurrect my joy. I take another look at my phone and there's another text from my son in New York. "It's working!!" it says and below the words is a smiley face, the one with an open mouth, its bright white upper uni-tooth peeking through. A dance a day keeps the blues away. Take two and text me in the morning :-D