A love letter to the dancer in me (and you)

A Valentine’s Day special

Missing someone to receive a love letter from on Valentine's Day? Who said that you cannot write one for yourself? I did. And I want you to read it. Aloud. In front of a mirror, with an open heart, offering yourself the gratitude and love you deserve. And who knows? Maybe you’ll write one as well.

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Photo by Aleksandar Kyng on Unsplash

Dear Dancer,

It’s been too long since I expressed how grateful I am for your existence. I want you to see how much admiration and abundant love I have for you: may this letter be a reminder of that on your heavy and dark days.

I love your dedication to dancing - how you’re able to practice the same moves for endless hours, over and over again, until you feel confident enough to execute it on the dancefloor.

I admire how you choose to go to dance classes after work instead of chasing easy fun and instant gratification. With all the commuting in the dark hours, fighting with tiredness, but always showing up, even on rainy days.

It amazes me how you constantly challenge yourself, the way you go out of your comfort zone. Whether it means to try a new style, where you’ll be a rookie again, learning, or even creating choreos by yourself and posting it for the world to see, going for that masterclass, bootcamp or festival where the level might be higher than where you are momentarily at, or even competing or performing shows. Or, finally asking that leader/follower you wanted forever, but never dared.

I can barely wrap my head around the fact that you just never give up. You keep going, even if it’s difficult. When you cannot put your finger on that specific move, and it frustrates the hell out of you. When you get rejected by someone. When quitting seems like the only rational decision as you cannot find your way forward. When someone says you are shit. Especially if it is you.

I adore the way you can keep your integrity, not letting anyone define your worth as a dancer. Again: especially if your darkest fears and thoughts are bubbling up, trying to convince you otherwise.

I appreciate how you learned not to compare yourself to others. How you slowly figured out that your sole objective should be to improve your performance from the last class. And to accept that sometimes - many times - it won’t happen, either. But it won’t matter, as long as you can find that special feeling of bliss in dancing.

I am delighted to see how you overgrew your urge to please everyone with your dancing. Always trying to be perfect, fitting into an often impossible standard. How you understood that you are human, and your imperfections and uniqueness makes you so amazing.

I find so much joy in watching you dancing from your heart. Telling your story. Your happiness. Your longing. Your heartbreak. I find it so brave that you are letting people see a tiny piece of your soul through that window you create while dancing.

I respect your ability to set boundaries. To say no to people and situations, and walk away from places that no longer serve you. How you can stand up for yourself, and how you learned to protect yourself. That you are capable to respect and love yourself enough, so the voices of the bullies, the naysayers and the haters are slowly fading out.

Photo by Drew Colins on Unsplash

I find it beautiful how boldly you connect with others on the dancefloor. How you’re learning to be present, to trust, to let go. To surrender. To care more about your and your partner’s feeling than steps. How you can laugh at mistakes and create something out of it, instead of calling yourself or your partner out for it.

I wonder how your body can keep up with all your demands, even under the harshest circumstances. When you keep pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, the sickness, just to continue dancing. I hope you don’t take it for granted and take good care of your body by regularly pampering it. By listening to it and scheduling days purely to rest, relax and recharge. By offering gratitude for everything is does for you: after all, without it, you wouldn’t be able to follow this passion of yours.

It is a pure pleasure to know that by dancing you are bringing more fun, playfulness, feeling of togetherness, beauty, and of course, love, into the wonderful world we live in.

But above all, I am beyond proud of you for taking that scary first step and going strong ever since.

I am ecstatic to see where this dancing journey of yours will take you, and I am thrilled to witness it, every step of the way.

With love,

Me