Courage

Tonight in Zumba class, there was a guy. Yeah, a man was taking my dance class. Now, besides Diego, our instructor, I have only ever seen two guys in class. One is obviously gay, and one is obviously black. And they are regulars, too.

This was a white, perhaps straight (if dance skills are an indicator) MALE. He had a look of sheer panic moments before class started. He was looking around, for another man, any other man, but it was wall-to-wall girls.

We started our warm-up, and I had a flash forward of what the next 59 minutes would be like for him. We women forget that early dance classes (ballet and tap, even a little African in 3rd grade, for me) and a lifetime of Jazzercise and step aerobics have trained us in the basic moves and the ability to follow along. Add to that, being more relational, we are generally more aware of other people within our space, a quality that adds to our dance skills.

So, my friend in the row behind me, the male, performed about how I expected he would, and I commend him for staying for the entire class, despite how his every move violated all of the rules of dance classes. I was actually impressed with his ability to be so off the mark. I found myself smiling to myself a lot.

The sandpiper in the image above embodies the reality of stepping into something bigger than you (here, the ocean) and then having it nearly envelop you lest you run, and then having the courage to wander back towards it. I watched this little bird as I was enjoying the scenery near Capitola Wharf.

This guy, should he return to the class, which he might, is like the sandpiper.

Some days I feel like the sandpiper.