Movement. It was in me. The melody pumping through my headphones was ricocheting throughout my body, getting in my lungs before plummeting to my feet and catching my jaw on the rebound. My mouth just had to open to sing. My hips just had to sway. My limbs contracted and extended involuntarily in an effort to express on the outside how the music was affecting me on the inside. But, alas, I’m no dancer.
I felt this often, and often with poor results. Two left feet isn’t really the right way to describe it. It was more like one large, awkward mermaid tail trying to balance a thick torso three feet off the ground. I couldn’t get away from it though. Every new song, each nuanced melody, all the articulated musical bullets fired into my soul seemed to almost require movement that I wanted to participate with, but simply did not possess the skill to express.
Music is the voice of the soul. What we all listen to and sing along with and dance because of are all subtle communications of the heart to the outside world, and they all say the same thing; “This is how I feel inside right now!” Whether it’s our sadness coming out in a melancholy trumpet solo or our anger being rent from our chests through aggressive beat drops, our music, quite involuntarily, speaks of what we feel.
And I felt like dancing. I felt like synchronizing body and rhythm. I felt like “cutting loose” as some say. But I felt caged. I wanted something that simply could not be. So, in my frustration, I picked up my begleri to help assuage my irritation. Low grip rebound. Slip. Around the world. Double Slip. Rebound. Slip. Around the world. Double Slip…
The pattern matched up to the beat of the song without my focus. My head was absent, my heart was tense, but my body responded on its own, with “dancing” of its kind. I took quick notice but didn’t look so closely as to draw out any dormant stage fright.
The music built to a climax, all the while the begleri was being flung and thrown about like some sort of ethereal instrument that only made sounds and pitches my mind’s ear could hear. My begleri and I were locked in a dance for two that allowed for so much of that movement within me to escape. I could feel the curve of the cord wrap around my fingers and then release. I could feel the gentle bump of the beads against my knuckles. I could feel the lead pull me into its embrace and hold me tight. We were on our own personal dance floor, alone, and happy.
There are many things in life that you can give yourself to. You give yourself to a person. You can give yourself to prayer. You can give yourself to greed. You can give yourself to anxiety. Or, in a fit of brilliance beyond even the highest understanding, you can give yourself to music and all that comes with it. Whether you can move your feet or not, you and your begleri deserve your tango…
- Pendulum by Haywyre
- Lingus by Snarky Puppy
- Parc by Anomalie
- Memories by ANKI