This post is available as a podcast here: https://spotifyanchor-web.app.link/e/WXQ3LnnASzb

Much like I am a flow seeker, I am a connection seeker. It’s an aspect of Buddhism and the Dalai Lama’s teachings that resonates with me deeply. When I see others, I seek the similarity. I seek the common humanity. I seek their perspective through the eyes of compassion. Through this lens, I seek connection.

Compassion is a nice way of phrasing the love I have for those I meet. That’s how it starts. I seek to understand and sympathize with their struggles and experiences. As we all have struggles, this forms a foundation for connection and love. It’s how I see people. How I validate the underneath. I didn’t have words for it until I read The Art of Happiness.

We find security in this pursuit of compassion. I can love and trust deeper than ever before because I open my heart to understanding others. When I get lost in my own head and my own world, those tendrils of connection can break or weaken. But that connection beats through me and grounds me, so it’s worth the investment. I have witnessed many times when people do this. The act of compassion starts out as work, but soon becomes habit. The only time I lose it these days is when I lose my center. It’s hard to find compassion if you don’t have a sense of grounding in yourself.

Likewise, compassion grounds us when we need grounding. The reminder that we are not the only one struggling, that this is a human burden, pulls us back. Cultivating compassion is a lifelong process that builds connection to everyone around us. That connection, for me, fills my world with love. When I see others, seek to understand them, and sympathize with them – how could I not love them?

It’s the reason I can say that if I knew you, I would love you. Because if I knew you, I would seek to understand your perspective and experience. I would share my own to seek that same compassion in return, because it is part of how I communicate (part of being neurodivergent.) I bond with people through compassion, but especially when it’s mutual. It’s how we feel seen. I love the quote about intimacy, “intimacy is being seen and seen some more and being shown there is no weariness in the witnessing of you.” I form intimate bonds with people quickly because I cultivate compassion and love for all. You can, too, if you want to.

This week, I’m going to share a story about dance.

For me, dance is about connection. When I choreograph I want to share something intimate with the audience – not sexual, but intimate (as in the quote above.) I want to bare my soul through my movement and heart expressed to music. I want the audience to connect with my humanity through my dance. I breathe in the connection and find flow through it. Dance was the only time I consistently bore my true self before I embraced myself and started loving myself. Taking class gave me flow and connection with every dancer in the room. There’s a feeling we get when we dance together, even though most styles don’t involve any physical contact with other dancers. We just feel each other. Dance is sacred to me, like my personal church. My soul always aches without it.

Connection is integral to social dancing (think ballroom, swing, and latin dancing – like Dancing with the Stars, but there are no stars and it’s just a bunch of strangers who know the same dance styles you do.) We call it frame, but it’s the connection with your dance partner. When partners have a good connection through good frame, the dance flows. It feels fantastic to not just dance to music, but also in sync with another human. I cannot think of anything nonsexual that is as physically connected and in flow as social dancing. There’s good reason it’s popular.

So, what’s a funny story from social dancing? Hmm. There are plenty of stories of smiles and laughs, but they can’t be written out sensibly. There are plenty of bumps, slips, and missteps, but those are similarly intangible. I think the funniest story I can tell you is my recent venture into the West Coast Swing community. I danced, performed, and competed in Lindy Hop for 10 years. I kept dancing Lindy Hop on and off to a total of 13 years before I took a break. So, I have a lot of experience social dancing, but it isn’t in West Coast Swing (WCS) …

In my defense, I danced some WCS in that time, but it was not my focus. So, I just dove in. I went to a social dance out of a desire to “get back out there” on a night when I didn’t have to be a parent. Now, for some context, WCS is the “classy” swing dance. Lindy hop is like the wild and crazy cousin of WCS. Lindy is fast and bouncy, the leads will throw you around, and it’s common to stylize with grandiose kicks. So, I had to dial it back a LOT to fake it at WCS. WCS is smooth and sexy; it looks slick. So, I am like the “bull in the china shop” when I come in as a Lindy Hopper trying to “fake it till I make it.” Some of the leads recognized me as a Lindy Hopper… and I was a little ashamed. I tried to hide my training, my habits. I couldn’t. I still stylize with kicks, sometimes I get a little bouncy, but I also work really hard to keep the track of WCS and adapt to the “correct” way of dancing in that community. I made new friends, and it’s been great to be back in the social dance community, but I am so embarrassed every time someone calls me out as a Lindy Hopper! It still happens. I hope you can laugh with me about it.

You can try to hide your style, but true intimacy is being seen for who you are, and I’m a Lindy Hopper at heart (no matter how much fun I find in WCS.)

I hope you find compassion and connection this week, somewhere. Love to you, -S.