I Will Dance, Dammit!

My grandmother said excessive cursing represented a shameful lack of vocabulary. I agree. As a rule, I endeavor not to curse – though I must admit to the “s” and “d” words peppering the air inside my car more frequently when I’m alone and frustrated in L.A. traffic. However, this morning, as I walked in the not-really-normal weather of the San Fernando Valley, “dammit” became part of my wet and windy warrior cry.

Let me explain: I took a walk today while the rain and hail (yes, y’all, there was hail today in L.A.) bounced off my hatted head and NASCAR-jacketed self. (I’ve got no particular affinity for the sport; it’s a hand-me-down windbreaker. However, these days, I would like to ride with an expert who knew how to drive real real fast. G-force, have at it.) You see, I have been fighting a funk of a particular sort for a long season. Call it life. Call it a malaise. Call it spiritual warfare. Whatever you or I call it, it’s a funk all the same.

And I wanna tell this funk to “eff off.” (Oops that’s another curse allusion. Grandmama, I’m sorry, but needs must.) Unlike Lady Macbeth, I’ve not been complicit in my husband’s murder (now, you’d have to have a husband for that, yes?) – however, her infamous cry: “Out, out damned spot,” is what I am telling my funk… even as the rain pours outside and in.

Recently, I discovered JJ Abrams and I agreed. In his commentary on the latest Star Trek movie, he echoed what I have said for years about appropriate times for cursing. He used the same example I’ve used numerous times. It’s this: when Harrison Ford, in one of the Indiana Jones movies, was running across a dangerous swinging bridge and away from some bad guys, he looks ahead and sees more bad guys coming at him from the other direction – so he utters the only curse word in the whole movie: “oh, Sh*t!” Now, I don’t know about you. But if you’re on a mile-high swinging bridge between two mountains and over roaring water…and you see evil is in front of you, and you know it’s behind you… “oh, brussel sprouts!” just doesn’t have the same kick. Affirmative?

This is how it was today when I was walking around Lake Balboa and the rain came pouring down, accompanied by hail and all matters of wind and such. I had been communing with God – o.k. I’d been in my head hollering out “help,” as I emotionally wrestled with Him about some ongoing issues in my life. I was doing this spiritual wrangling while determinedly taking a walk – because I think it’s important to “move it, move it, move it” when one feels the advent of a funk comin’ on.

So when stuff from the sky started falling, instead of running back home, I kept walking the same steady speed. Like the Madagascar character, I kept movin’ it while my yoga pants got heavy with moisture, my socks got increasingly wet (due to the holes in my tennis shoes), and my windbreaker took on water that would potentially damage the cell phone in my pocket (The verdict is still out on that one. My sweet phone with the hot pink plastic cover is sitting out in pieces with hopes it will dry out and work perfectly).

As all this was occurring, a desire to dance came upon me. The inner warrior in me rared* up and yelled a battle cry of the soul: “I will dance, dammit!” This stormy season – both literally and figuratively – WILL NOT steal my joy forever. It will not hold my mojo for ransom. It will not still the rhythm of my soles or the tapping of my toes. It will not paralyze my full-body spins. I WILL DANCE MIDST IT ALL.

I will not just tiptoe around the puddles of life. I will wade into them, stomp dancing my determination against defeat into their very watery depths. The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid? I will fear no evil for thou art with me, Father God.*

And the warrior met her Master…and He held out His Hand and said: "Let’s dance."


*not reared, rared – I love being from the South, y’all.
*Psalm 27:1; Psalm 23:4