We Can Dance If We Want To

Creative takeaways from the coolest things I've found this week.

A digital collage I prompted called “We Can Dance”

Hey Friends! The theme of this week’s newsletter is dance. You ready to cut a rug? Let’s go.

Those who dance:

In an interview with writer Mark Forsyth by David Perrell, he paraphrased an Alexander Pope quote, saying:

They walk best, [those] who’ve learned to dance.

This was in reference to learning how to write. He preceded the quote explaining that if you learn to write in iambic pentameter, your prose will be better.

Aside from giving me pause to consider the quality of my own writing (and walking for that matter), it got me thinking about the everyday things I do that could be improved if I were to put in concerted effort. In this moment, I am trying to become a better communicator. I suppose extracting interesting takeaways from the five or so most interesting things I’ve happened upon each week, is my version of a dance lesson but for communication.

It takes considerably more effort to write a weekly newsletter than it does to talk, but I have a feeling organizing my thoughts in written form for a large audience will lead me to speak more clearly in small groups and one-on-one.

Takeaway: when you work deliberately towards mastery, the benefits often ripple outward, just as learning to dance improves your ability to walk.

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Vasiliy Lomachenko:

Early in his career, the Ukrainian boxer Vasiliy Lomachenko quit boxing for two years to train in Ukrainian dance. Upon his return, his footwork in the ring was levels above the competition. He went on to win 18 professional matches, 12 by knock out, and earned two olympic medals.

If ever there was evidence that hyper-specializing in sports young is a mistake, this is it. I wish I could staple this story to my students who log hundreds of matches in their respective “club” sport each year.

Diversity of skill and experience is a super power. When you’re multi-passionate and possess a variety of unique talents, a cross pollination of sorts occurs that helps you see opportunities where others never will. In combat sports, which have been described as, “high level problem solving with dire physical consequences”, having the creativity of mind to move like a dancer and strike with devastating force is a hard combination to beat.

Takeaway: box AND dance.

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Context matters:

Talent and skill are undeniably important in creative endeavors. So too is the context in which that talent and skill are displayed.

Derrick Hough, of Dancing With The Stars, has dedicated his life to dance. Even as a non-dancer, you can tell just by watching him that he gave complete devotion to the art and craft. For that, he has reaped the rewards of a successful career in entertainment, but on Dancing With The Stars’ “Dedication Night,” the context of a dance he performed transcended the technical and delivered a performance of raw emotion.

Earlier that year, Hough’s wife Hayley suffered a cranial hematoma during a performance that resulted from a burst blood vessel that required an emergency craniectomy. Doctors were unsure if she’d survive the operation, let alone walk or dance again. In time, and with incredible rehabilitation efforts, she made a full recovery that her doctor’s called nothing short of a miracle.

Yes, the dance the couple performed was technically flawless, but it was so much more than that too. It was an expression, in motion, of what was almost lost forever.

In my own writing, I try to share my observations through the lens of an educator, father, husband, brother, son, and friend. The words themselves are one thing, that I am the one saying them is another.

Takeaway: understanding the story behind a creative act is sometimes as, if not more, important than the act itself.

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We can dance if we want to:

Now for something a little less heavy: The Safety Dance

Did you know that Ivan Doroschuk, lead singer of Men Without Hats, wrote The Safety after being ejected from a club for pogo dancing to the B-52s’ Rock Lobster? Pogo dancing is apparently a form of dancing in which you jump up and down a bunch (a precursor to mosh pitting perhaps).

Looking back, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed that my own college bar ejections never led to multigenerational chart topping hits.

What’s the takeaway here? Everything is an opportunity if you look at it the right way.

We can dance if we want to,
We can leave your friends behind,
'Cause your friends don't dance,
And if they don't dance,
Well they're no friends of mine

What a banger.

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Don’t Stop

I’ve been thinking a lot about the activities we’ve signed my kids up for: soccer, gymnastics, summer enrichment programs, movement classes, and on and on and on. This is the norm. Booking your kids solid with activities is what we do as parents, and it’s what my parents did for me when I was a kid. Somewhere along the line though, I stopped floor hockey, cub scouts, student council, soccer, and lacrosse.

You probably don’t do half the things you did when you were a kid.

My mother-in-law is an amateur ballroom dancer. She loves to dance, and makes it a point to take lessons, enter competitions, and compete against other dancers in her age class. How cool is that?

It’s inspirational to me to see her continuing to chase the thing she loves solely for the sake of loving that thing.

For me, I’ve been trying to get back into playing guitar. When I was a kid, I had a weekly lesson for close to three years. I really enjoyed it, but at some point I realized I was never going to shred a solo on stage in front of thousands, and just sort of gave it up—for like twenty years. But I really liked playing the guitar.

I’ve recently shifted my goals from rock stardom to being able to play and sing some tunes around the campfire. It’s a humble goal, but one that is rooted in community and fun. It’s certainly attainable, and it has stoked the flame of a once near extinguished ember.

Takeaway: it might be time to dust off your ballet slippers, wipe off the mouthpiece of your trombone, or strap on your rollerblades.

P.S. I tried to rekindle my passion for lacrosse but kept getting injured—the math around pushing 40 and playing contact sports doesn’t equate well.