(Originally posted in April 2006. I bend my knees more now. I still have an exothermic endocrine system. Sometimes the playful creativity of the leads makes me laugh out loud—it’s wonderful!—and, for a moment, the “now”-ness of the situation slips away because of my self-consciousness.

I still enjoy lindy hop immensely.)

Tonight, I finally realized that it is all in the knees.

Actually, it is all in the “core” (that block of mass that primarily encompasses one’s abdomen), but the bending of the knees helps stabilize the core so one has more control over one’s body while dancing. Previously, I just wasn’t bending my knees enough. This ultimately made it more difficult for me to follow my lead.

Here is a description of the benefits of dancing lindy hop; however, there is an important benefit that is missing from that list: Mindfulness.

Yes, mindfulness conjures up images of lavendar smoke swirling from the tip of the burning stick, people gazing at their navels, and bald monks wearing loose, drab-colored robes. Simply put, however, mindfulness is simply about being present within the moment. Being here. 43Folders recently had a summary post about mindfulness that captured some of the different aspects of this concept. (And I do agree that it is related to the philosophy of Getting Things Done—which is, thus far, working satisfactorily—although I, too, am also not entirely sure how it applies. It would seem, though, that people who immerse themselves in Getting Things Done have affinities towards a philosophy of simplicity and getting miscellaneous crap out of one’s head in an effort to focus on the task—or hobby—at hand.)

When I am dancing, I am not thinking about anything other than dancing. There are no worries about past, present, or future patients; no concerns about the tomes of reading that are waiting for me; no musings about writing projects; no meanderings about where I can find cool dancing pants or sweat-wicking (polyester, rayon, etc.) shirts. It’s just the music, the lead, and me.

Ideally, the dancing pair interact and move as one unit. Sure, there is room for “playing” and improvising off of the music and each other, but it is a complementary effort—kinda like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s one sandwich; it tastes good, but the peanut butter and jelly are separate entities that combine well to result in that singular fruity and nutty flavor that appeals to the palette. (There has got to be a better simile, but my brain fails me right now.) As a follow, that is all I am supposed to do: follow. (As the years have passed, I’ve become more skilled at refraining from backleading, though it certainly still happens.) In fact, when I start thinking about dancing, that’s when I backlead, misinterpret the move that the lead wanted me to execute, or otherwise “mess up”.

(Someone once said, however, that “there are no mistakes on the dancefloor, just new moves”. What a nice way to reframe a discordant moment.)

There is this “zone” where I am simply “being” with the lead. Like all dancers, I have better connection with some leads than with others (although my connection skills still have much room for improvement), but regardless, there is an experience where all there exists is the music and us. The dancing just happens: we stop at the same time, we start back up at the same time, we improvise complementary moves simultaneously, and it’s really, really, cool. And there is an individual and joint awareness of what is happening; the follow is attuned to the motions of the lead and thus simply (and almost magically) follows. I imagine that the lead experiences something similar; even though he has to come up with what we will do next, I’m guessing that during that mindful moment (or song), it just kinda happens.

It’s almost kinda eerie; it’s like I’m intensely attending to what is happening between us as we dance, but I’m clearly not thinking about it. Does that even make any sense? There is not a running ticker tape of “okay, he’s leading me into a free spin at the end of this swingout; there’s the push, now my feet are going to step in place while my body spins clockwise; I have to keep my arms and hands out in case he wants to catch one to do something next—what is he going to do next? another swingout? go back into six-count? one-step? stop?” None of that. I’m just aware of what is going on at that moment—and, in that vein of “all we have is this current moment”, the dance (the three-minute-ish song) has an endless “now” quality to it.

I’m not working well with the English language right now.

In any event, I think that is yet another appeal of dancing: Swing music is fantastic; lindy hop is such a fun and happy dance; and it helps me have a better understanding of mindfulness (something I wish to more fully incorporate into my life).

In addition to recognizing that I was underutilizing my knees, I realized that I must have some strange, hyperactive endocrine issue. Another follow (I had originally typed “a fellow follow”; such wordplay seems a bit impertinent) pulled on a fleece sweater while we watched an informal dance contest. I looked at her in disbelief as sweat continued to pour down my face in sheets; she remarked that she usually brings a scarf, too. The follow next to her then made some jest that essentially meant, “What is her problem?” I really don’t want to join that club where I have to bring a change of clothes with me every time I dance.

So yes. Lindy hop is fun. Lindy hop facilitates mindfulness. Lindy hop provides a fairly strenuous cardiovascular workout. And tomorrow (later on today?), I shall be sore.