Dancing in the Kitchen

I have a confession to make.

I sometimes allow myself to imagine my family has died. Welp. There it is, it’s out. And there is probably a concerned psychologist somewhere in the world reading this thinking I need professional help. Let’s be honest, so are most of you. But hear me out, there’s a semi-logical reason.

There are some moments in life that jolt us out of our ordinary, day-to-day lives and force us to remember that there are bigger perspectives in life. I believe that as a special part of creation, we have been made with eternity in our hearts, and it’s a beautiful gift. But we also have the ability to drown that out with morning routines, busy schedules, and hair appointments. Although I’m gonna be honest, there have been times when I’ve been sitting in the salon chair with enough bleach fumes wafting down from my scalp that I’ve hotboxed myself down into a mental existential crisis. But let’s get back on track.

One of the most common times I find myself jolted from my daily busyness is when I attend the funeral of a loved one. There’s something about sitting in a room with death, especially a particularly painful death, that makes one think about things from a deeper perspective. I remember sitting at my Grandad’s funeral and feeling it consciously for the first time, that shift where the daily things faded into the background because eternity was taking the front row instead of being stuffed down the back somewhere. And it stayed for a few days, and then slowly moved back into the background again.

So it began that when I was in a flat mood and I need a forced jolt of perspective, I would sometimes think of what life would be like if my most loved people weren’t here anymore. It is probably completely unhealthy and I am definitely not recommending it. But when I’ve been arguing with my husband for two hours about why he soaks the non-stick frying pan instead of just wiping it down, the thought of losing him permanently somehow really does put it all into perspective. Unless I’m in a particularly dark place and I find I would prefer having a clean bench. Bad joke? A thousand apologies.

But, dear reader, I’m here to tell you that you can potentially reframe your perspective through less damaging means. You don’t have to wait until a loved one dies, or go to a dark place in your imagination in order to reframe your perspective. It’s going to seem really simple, but it really is a profound change.

For me, it was dancing in the kitchen.

Because you see, living like there is more to life is deeply connected to living well now. And while death brings that perspective, so can dancing.

One afternoon, a particularly bangin tune came on, and I couldn’t help but get off my chair and start moving, and the mental freedom it lent me for a few good minutes was particularly explosive. For others, the idea of dancing might cause a cold sweat to break out on your brow, so no stress my friend, find the thing that allows you to move out of the rat race and remember for small moments that there are deeper, sometimes unexplainable joys to life. The part that made this moment all the sweeter was that I was dancing with my 5-year-old daughter, who was particularly excited about the sporadic change from our afternoon of work. And while we could definitely get more work done without the dancing, when I reach the end of my days, I’m not going to wish I had spent that 15 minutes spreadsheeting instead of dancing in the kitchen with my kid.

That afternoon, dancing gave me the same perspective shift that I’ve felt when attending funerals, and I think there are two reasons for that. One, people are always going to be the most important thing. The joy my daughter expressed at being part of this moment with me was so profoundly satisfying. Secondly, joy and art, although not necessary to live, are necessary for a good life. In the past, death was able to remind me of that, but now, thankfully, so does dancing.

I know which one to pick next time.