“…and a time to dance…”

There’s a passage in Ecclesiastes I’m particularly fond of. It appeals to both my Adventist upbringing and my unintended pagan tendencies. Seasons mark our calendars and our lives, each one in its own time. There truly is a time for everything–“a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…”

Last night was absolutely a time to dance and I experienced a really interesting first–baby’s first rave. Yes, even here in itty bitty Wally World there are raves. Rave culture is a fascinating subculture with glow-in-the-dark bracelets and glitter and heavy bass and so much dancing. There are definitely those who participate in “supplements,” as a good buddy of mine described, in order to lower inhibitions and enhance other sensations, but honestly, for me, plenty of water, spirit, and enthusiasm and I was good to go. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. It is an incredibly vulnerable thing to allow oneself to lay things down for a moment long enough to play, just be, and to get temporarily lost in a chest-vibrating-bass beat.

It certainly didn’t hurt to have the coolest gay guy in the place pay my dancing and exuberance high compliments. And even more fun to go with a friend who made the experience for this stranger in a strange land to be welcomed and included in such a hospitable way. I will go again because what absolute fun. But I’ll probably wait until my left hip heals a little first. Ha!