The Dancing Man

Perhaps the most important element in our lives is routine since without routine we loose direction. Most of what we do is predestined by our environment (work, timekeeping) and upbringing (attitude to being punctual, concern about supporting someone) there is so little real originality about our lives as we seek the comfort of conformity.
Perhaps the only release is music and dance, the non conformity of it all as we release ourselves into the rhythm or a song ignites some lost period in our lives when we were young and only beginning to learn the routines expected of us.
Our lives are a compromise, a battle between our inner drives and the person we wish to project and be seen by people who matter to us. Dance is a method of finding release, it excites the pre-moral stage in our evolution before we enveloped ourselves in ritual and conservatism, before we started to please others, to fit in, to conform to other people's rules.

 The magic is still within, unlocked by the first cords of a tune we loved as kids. The memories flood back of that wild process of attraction which lent you another personality so out of keeping with the character your parents were happy with. The smiling allure of the girl, her jet black, waist length hair falling over her bare shoulders, Jill, always the centre of attention but for this dance at least you were the centre of hers. It was the moment when like a bird in plumage you strutted your stuff in that evolutionary mating dance, chest swelling in self aggregated importance you convinced yourself you were the centre of her world and anything was possible.

The flights of fancy the equally black holes of despair are all tied up in the music and the attendant magic memories as we settle into the obscurity of old age.
It only takes a moment for the opening phrase of a song to unlock the chemistry and even if the muscles are a bit slow to react at least for a while the moves are there for your partner to make what they will of it. The partner is usually imaginary and therefore in pretty good shape at coping with your sudden reaction to a change in beat and as the needle settles into the next track we are off again on the magic carpet ride of nostalgia.