One of the issues we have been exploring in some depth at Carondelet is balance. Even though I worked in the Sabbatical field before coming to Carondelet, I describe myself as a “slow learner of slow-time.” While I can find enjoyment in most things I do, I typically have some accomplishment in mind, above and beyond the simple pleasure of the activity itself. In an attempt to remedy this issue, I made a resolution last summer to put a few activities in place for the sole purpose of fun. One of these activities was square dancing.
I recalled fond memories of square dancing as a kid. I also enjoyed it once as an adult. One evening, when I was at a conference in Loveland, Ohio, I attended a local family gathering, with four generations taking turns calling as the rest of us dosadoed among fireflies.
I was uncertain if square dancing had become a thing of the past or if I would be able to find a venue nearby. When I Googled it, not only did I find that there is a vibrant square-dancing scene in San Francisco but there happened to be a weekly square-dancing club, with classes and a live caller, in Concord. On top of that, they were offering a Groupon special: ten lessons for $17 total.
I couldn’t pass up the offer, even though a close friend, upon hearing my expressed enthusiasm, admonished that I would likely be well out of my element. Other loved ones thought I was joking. After anticipating my first night of class for several months, in September I was greeted by the glad faces of a community of varying ages: small children, teens, young adults, older adults, and seniors, most wearing the traditional square-dancing garb.
The caller sang out clear and concise instruction. The advanced dancers were patient and gracious with the beginners. The lessons were interspersed with opportunities for the advanced dancers to enjoy their long-honed skills, while the rest of us looked on in delight. One woman brought her elderly, wheelchair-bound mother to look on, with beaming smiles. Several regulars told me that they consider the evening a “family event,” one person pointing out his spouse and four children, while another lamented a deceased husband with whom she danced for decades. Spare advanced dancers, called “angels,” are on hand for those without a dance partner.
While it would be a stretch to consider square dancing as a workout, it has exercised me in other ways. I have found particularly refreshing attending an entire two-hour event devoid of electronic devices. I have also enjoyed the eye-to-eye contact and the clasping of hands with perfect strangers. The cool jug of iced-water and the homemade cookies and cupcakes add an additional welcoming dimension. I have also appreciated certain bygone courtesies, such as bowing to your partner and corner at the beginning of a dance, and thanking and shaking hands with each and every dancer following every number. Square dancing also cultivates keen listening, as the fun largely depends upon each individual’s following rather than anticipating the calls, for the good of the group. Most importantly, I have found the evenings deeply renewing, waking the following morning feeling more spaciousness, energy, and inspiration than had I not attended the evening before.
I completed the last of my ten dance lessons in December (missing only one class due to the CSSJ Conference). The club presented the new dancers with certificates and supplemented the snack table with a large congratulatory sheet cake.
Why do I blog about square dancing here? Because, well, I know it’s not for everyone, but I thought maybe you might want to consider giving it a whirl (or a twirl). More importantly, I offer this reflection in light of the conversations we have been holding regarding balance, for our students as well as for ourselves. I am reminded of the quote by Marthe Troly-Curtin (often attributed to others):“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”
In what ways do you enjoy wasting time not wasting time?
