Positive Thinking

Yesterday, dancing, two weeks before a show, Jean the fantastically talented (and more than a little famous) dance instructor, says to me, "I have had my revelation for the week."

"Which is what?" I ask.

"Anything is possible," he says.

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes. It's all about positive thinking."

And of course I laugh. Because he is asking me to do the impossible, because there isn't enough time to learn, because I'm too old for this. But then I say, "Okay. Fine." And strut out onto the floor and stand up straighter and settle my hips deeper and listen, really listen, for the beat. Pretend there is an audience. Pretend I have this right to dance on a stage, with a champion dancer.

And something happens. Not perfection. Not glory. But something that sets me, for those few moments, free—of self-consciousness and regret, of timidity and reserve, of a long, long life of near invisibility.

I can hide behind the words, with writing. There is nowhere to hide on a dance floor. There is nothing to do, but to believe.