I wasn’t happy when the DJ announced that it was my birthday and that, in honor of this occasion, there would be a “birthday dance”. I knew exactly who had told the DJ that it was my birthday and I had explicitly instructed this lead to refrain from sharing this information. I really did not want to dance in front of everyone.

He did not heed my instructions.

Another lead dragged me out onto the dance floor to begin the birthday dance. Most of the dancers in attendance formed a circle around us and the DJ began to play music. As is customary with these types of dances, a lead danced with me for a phrase of music and then another lead cut in and took over. Thus, by the end of the song, I had danced with probably a dozen leads.

(Of note, the lead who had told the DJ that it was my birthday did not dance with me in the circle. Tsk tsk tsk.)

Often, the more skilled dancers participate in these birthday dances as they have the confidence to dance in front of everyone else. At that time (this was about two years ago), I was not confident in my dancing abilities and felt anxious dancing with an audience watching.

They’re all going to think know that I’m not a good dancer!

I didn’t fall down, I didn’t trip, the leads didn’t leave the floor in frustration, and there was enough turnover so that I wasn’t dancing with the same lead for phrase after phrase after phrase. Some of them were even kind enough to wish me a “happy birthday!” when he took over for the previous lead.

And, in retrospect, that birthday dance boosted my dancing confidence significantly. In fact, I soon participated on a regular basis in birthday dances for leads.

Tonight was my last night of dancing in Seattle. I had not gone dancing in the past month due to competing obligations (which also interfered with my writing here) and, prior to attending the dance, I felt trepidation about going. Several dancers, upon learning about my relocation to New York City earlier this year, had already began to express sadness about my departure.

And, as I had essentially gone dancing once a week, every week, for the past three years, I, too, was feeling sad about breaking this healthy habit that had brought me much joy.

To my delight, most of the leads I had regularly danced with were present tonight and I made a point of dancing with all of them. (In fact, both the flight surgeon—who, thankfully, had safely arrived home from Iraq—and the Swedish statistician were also in attendance tonight!) And, as a testament of my lack of dancing recently, I found myself tiring quickly.

“This is my last night dancing in Seattle,” I informed them. People generally don’t like it when people just disappear without an explanation. Most of them knew about my relocation.

“Oh—we need to do a good-bye jam for you,” some of them remarked.

“No, we don’t,” I honestly replied. I wanted to dance with them, not dance with them in front of everyone else.

“C’mon, Maria,” they argued. “You’re part of the community, you’re going away, you should do a good-bye jam.”

I knew I would not win.

The DJ announced that I was leaving and, in honor of this occasion, held a “good-bye dance”. A lead dragged me out onto the dance floor to begin the good-bye dance. Most of the dancers in attendance formed a circle around us and the DJ began to play music.

And it was wonderful.

Most of the leads I regularly danced with—many of whom do not usually participate in these jams—participated and cut in to dance with me. (Some cut in more gracefully than others—but there’s entertainment value in watching leads creatively “steal the girl”.)

More touching than that were the leads who made a point of showcasing me for the audience. Some leads participate in these jam circles to showcase themselves (after all, everyone is watching, though that does not mean that everyone actually cares—yet another lesson I learned from that initial birthday dance). Like in any other relationship, it eventually becomes clear when people are actually doing things because they care about you and not because they’re satisfying them.

(A potential definition of “gentleman”?)

And it was sad.

How do we create meaning in the relationships that we have with others? With most dancers, particularly leads, there had been minimal conversation. Sure, we’ve exchanged pleasantries, discussed superficial aspects of life, and engaged in small talk, but for the most part, we’ve simply danced together. And, somehow, that dancing alone compelled many of them to not only share a good-bye dance (a gift) with me, but to also tell me that they would miss me. This clearly does not fall within the usual relationships that we have with others—relationships in which verbal language dominates.

(As noted in The Little Prince: “It is the time you have spent with your rose that makes your rose so important.”)

I’m incredibly fortunate in many different ways; my experiences in dancing have been blessings over the past three years. And, as usually happens, I was not fully aware of its importance in my life—particularly in the context of a month-long hiatus—until it ended tonight. And though the dancing itself is immensely fun, these quiet relationships arguably have given the dancing more meaning.

Thank you, Seattle lindy hop. You’ve been wonderful.

(And, yes, I anticipate that most of my posts will tend towards the maudlin side for the next week or so. I will cope—I trust that you will, too.)