I recently fell while dancing.

This is a rare occurrence for those of us who lindy hop without aerials (i.e. where someone is tossed into the air).

I’m not really sure what happened. It wasn’t the guy’s fault; he’s a reliable and skilled lead. We had generated a fair amount of angular momentum (…) and suddenly, I realized that my feet were no longer under me. I slid forward and felt my center of gravity approaching the floor. The lead had let go of my hand at that point and we both watched me land squarely on my butt.

We did not move…

… the other couples on the dance floor maneuvered around us…

… I looked up…

… I saw him looking down at me.

Realizing what had happened, I extended my arms up. He quickly grasped them both with his hands and helped me back onto my feet. He graciously led some stationary, low energy moves.

“Are you okay?” he asked a few bars later.

“Yes—I’m totally fine,” I honestly replied. Had my face not already been flushed from warmth, the blush of embarrassment would have colored my cheeks. We said nothing else for the remainder of the dance, though he was clearly leading with less exuberance and I was following with more caution. He still indulged in a dip at the conclusion of the song, which could have been a risky move—follows can “refuse” the dip (in varying degrees), particularly with leads they do not fully trust, for fears of being dropped.

(That’s happened to me, too.)

We all fall down at some point. Sometimes, we must claim responsibility ourselves; perhaps we knowingly wore slick-soled shoes on a notoriously slippery floor. Sometimes, our dancing partners erroneously think we are at Point A when we are actually at Point B, resulting in mismatched momentum. And sometimes, it has nothing to do with us and everything to do with the floor: An errant nail may be poking out of the floorboards and when one trips, the other follows.

When we fall, though, we do not simply slink off of the dance floor on our hands and knees. Nor do we abandon our dance partners for the remainder of the song. We get back up, find the rhythm, and continue to move together. Sometimes it takes time to reestablish a comfortable connection; sometimes both partners experience the event as awkward and both lead and follow are unsure of how to proceed; sometimes the fall only induces good-natured laughter and, building upon that experience, both dancers feel less inhibition in creating novel moves.

In dancing, there are the risks of falling, injury, and the resulting embarrassment.

In dancing, there are also the rewards of joy and trust that comes from creating and maintaining movement with another person.

Do you dance?