“Shoot, I am late,” thought Sam maneuvering through the crowd. It was quarter to six and the amount of people in the tube would make even the bravest person claustrophobic. Suddenly, Sam’s gaze captured an advertisement and he slowed down for a few seconds to look at it. After a moment of reading about a “jungle relaxation” (the lowest prices possible!) Sam remembered he was late and proceeded to run — probably moments like these are the reason for his constant haste.
He entered the class seven minutes past six and the warm up was just over. Sam smiled at a few familiar faces and filled the place in the middle of the room, in front of the mirror. It was useful as usual that people were mostly shy to stand in the front line.“Great, I am not that shy anymore,” thought Sam with a smile. As he was already sweating from running, he decided just to stretch his body while the teacher was choosing a song to play. Sam stretched his ankles, his legs, neck, shoulders and whatever part of his body was coming to his mind next. And then his thoughts went off: the class has started.
The steps were nice and clear with a room for improvisation. Sam was repeating a dance routine and he was enjoying what he saw in the mirror. Energetic beats, teacher's loud encouragement and connection to people around made Sam’s heart beat faster, made his blood circulate through his veins with such speed that the colour became brighter, the air — tasteful and each movement of his body was rewarded with joy. He smiled unconsciously and felt that time is some tangible substance that brings you happiness. It was even hard to realise it all, as his being was fully located in his body and finally not in his thoughts. Everything was perfect — until it wasn’t.
Sam lost his concentration just for a few seconds (“maybe I do need jungle relaxation”) and missed the explanation of some complicated steps. Everything happened fast and the teacher already proceeded to the next flow, while Sam tried to replicate what he saw but — his body was failing him. Sam tried and triedto reproduce the move yet there was no successful outcome. Sam felt tired: cold sweat was all over his body and his brain started to fail him, so instead of learning new steps it was forgetting the old ones. Wearily, Sam looked at the people around, for the first time to actually see them. Dancers, mostly girls in short tops and baggy trousers, were all sweaty as well, but they were smiling and easily repeating the steps Sam struggled with. Usually, being among young girl dancers made Sam feel cheerful and uplifted but now Sam’s brain reminded him how different boys and girls are, how easily girls accept failure and move on. Or maybe it just looks like it?
Sam shook his head and slowly repeated the steps he had been struggling with. They worked out well at slow pace, but once the music was on, it was too fast and Sam raised his left arm instead of right one and his kick was on the wrong beat. He felt nervous and conscious about whether someone saw it, whether someone saw those “ugly” moves.“No one looks at you, everyone always looking at themselves,” thought Sam with a bit of irritation. He tried again, but this time someone accidentally pushed him -“Sorry!”- and Sam lost his balance as well as the remaining part of the dance routine. Sam felt shame for falling and quite controversial feelings towards whether people noticed it or not. Even though Sam immediately stood up the diffidence covered him with a suffocating blanket to the point that he was not able to raise his look back to the mirror. “No one is looking at you!” Sam repeated to himself and this time he said it out loud. Although it was more like a whisper, Sam suspiciously looked at the people nearby. Sam was losing his shit. He didn’t want to practice the movements anymore — he just wanted class to be over. The music started again but Sam stood still and watched. The dancers were smoothly moving around as one big happy organism where everyone was unique and welcomed, but not Sam. He felt like an imposter, like the reluctant part that is no longer needed, like an oak stick in the middle of a daffodil bouquet. And the more he stood, the more he was not able to join this cheerful celebration of life. He started to believe he just cannot be like them, he is just different, just not enough. Desperately trying to find a way out of his thoughts that were torturing him, Sam decided to do what he was afraid of the most: raise his gaze from the floor to the mirror, to see this “unworthy of love and affection person, who cannot do the simple dance steps right”. He looked and he saw. He saw a person who was very tired, even exhausted: his pale face with grey undertones, his hunched shoulders stuck in a defensive position, his sweat that was coming in small springs to the ground. He saw it very clearly: imperfections and fragility, power and price. Always feeling he is not doing enough, Sam questioned himself how to measure when it is too much. He looked directly in his counterpart’s eyes and he saw pain, he saw embarrassment, even desperation; he saw a human and he felt sorry for him. Sam inhaled and exhaled several times and decided to slow down: be kind, show compassion. He proceeded with the class and after some time, finally, he felt lightness, he felt at peace. He was even able to enjoy the dance again. In the end, the teacher smiled at Sam and said “Good job”.
Sam could not agree more.