When was the last time you danced naked?
I don’t mean a modest shimmy in the shower as you soaped up to Apple’s morning radio. I mean like, really danced.
Was it recently?
Ever since I got married my naked dancing has gone seriously downhill.
“Whatcha wanna do tonight, babe?”
“Oh, I don’t know, dance naked.”
“So . . . Netflix, then?”
Besides, dancing naked isn’t something we do with other people for the same reason we do it with ourselves. When we dance naked alone it’s because we’ve been liberated. It’s because we are getting in touch with the Divine Goddess (that God is clearly a woman) and asking for strength to deal with the goings on of our lives. Dancing naked by yourself is like inviting the Universe into your apartment to have a private party and celebrating just the two of you for everything you don’t have to explain you are. It’s power, being born again.
When we dance naked with other people it’s because it is liberating. I look at you, you look at me, we sway to Paul McCartney’s Jet, and Bob’s your uncle. There’s no power in that. No Universe. Romance — maybe, if that’s your thing — but how far will that get you?
The reason I’m asking is because I recently got my solo-mojo back and — if you hadn’t guessed — spent the evening dancing naked.
Now, this isn’t news, apart from the fact it fixed absolutely everything that was off-kilter in my world. Out of nowhere it descended on me like the robe I wore was about to fall — the urge to be pure, to be vulnerable, to be seen. So I let it lead me.
Slowly, at first, as if I didn’t quite believe I had the apartment to myself. Then stronger, like I didn’t care whether I did or not. And finally, wildly, like a hungry orangutan who caught a glimpse of the underpaid zookeeper rounding the corner.
The Universe joined me and we created something I had long since forgotten could be made — peace.
Peace with myself, exactly as I was.
Peace with the whirlwind of activity surrounding my each and every day.
Peace with my relationships.
Peace with this troubled world.
They say that there is calm in the eye of the storm, but what we so often forget is that we are that storm. Occasionally, we need to be reminded that we, too, can enter into the eye of that storm. Summon the powers that be. Calm the waves. And dance on the water.
Image: Revlon Ad, American Vogue, June 1984. HERE.