One day, out of the blue, my little toddler started to dance. I suppose he could have spotted my wife moving to the strange noise coming from her iPod and followed her lead, but this seemed different. It seemed…instinctual.
Newly spawned fish know how to swim, birds just know how to fly after throwing themselves from the branch, and my son just started dancing.
It is the pure, unadulterated joy of movement that intrigues me. My son, now 20 months old, hasn’t been ruined by the “real world” yet. He doesn’t know about pessimism, or the phrase “that will never work.” If he falls and bumps his head he’s back at it after the tears have dried.
He just dances.
But it’s not really about what he doesn’t know…it’s really about what we’ve forgotten. We have forgotten how to dance. We forget how to see the best in people and have hope for the world. We forget that the few bad things that happened today really weren’t a big deal and that there is much more to be joyful about. We forget to be gracious to ourselves in our mistakes and underestimate our potential for good.
It’s there…we just need to discover it again. Because at one point we also just knew how to dance.