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being nessasary

a quirky look into being

Tag Archives: joy

I have a bit of a fascination with strangers and the strange.  I like talking to people I don’t know and will not know very long.  It is a great exercise in “putting yourself in an other person’s shoes.”  Making friendly conversation at bus stops and studying the faces  of those receiving pedicures makes an otherwise habitual experience different every single time.

There is one stranger that has a very special spot in my heart:  The Dancing Man.  After an absence of several months, Dancing Man returned to the Indianapolis intersection of 34th and College this New Year.  I first took notice of the definitive bounce in his step this past spring.  I initially thought he was just passing the time while waiting for the bus, but as my work day drives became more consistent, I noticed he would position himself at any of the intersection’s four street corners.  His rhythm never changed and his smile swayed like the streetlights.  He once positioned himself on the southwest corner where there happens to be a Rally’s.  He was boogalooing to his heart’s beat while hoisting a double cheese burger above his head like a prized trophy (I am sure it tasted much better than a metallic dust collector).

I have smiled and waved at this man countless times – once even spilling coffee all over myself to ecstatically greet him while  rolling by.  Most times he sees me, gives a special smile and amps his dance up a level.  He gives me a large bite of happy each time I pass his dance floor.

I haven’t the slightest clue as to why he boogies.  I really do not wish to study it.

One “dance” quote has become particularly irritating to me.  I’m not implying that it doesn’t provide the reader with warm and hopeful feelings, but because it more or less seems like a REASON to dance:

“Work like you don’t need the money, love like your heart has never been broken, and dance like no one is watching” -Aurora Greenway

It is also EXTREMELY overused.  I am happy not knowing why The Dancing Man dances.  He just does.  Maybe he’s nuts, maybe he dances for his God or Gods, perhaps he just feels the rhythm of the planet.  I do not care unless he tries tells me.  It is just fun to experience his energy.  I know that others feel it too:  I once saw two young men grooving alongside him.

I tip my hat to you, Mr. Dancing Man.  I love you without even knowing you.


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