Somerwhere between nursery school and the mortgage, we stopped. There was a time when I just danced. For no reason. Without music sometimes. Just because my body felt like moving and standing still was boring. In the living room. In the supermarket. On the pavement outside school. It didn't matter where I was or who was watching. I just danced.
And then I grew up.
And at some point I stopped. Not consciously. Not with a decision of "from now on I'm not just dancing anymore." It just crept up on me. One day I was still dancing and the next I wasn't. As if growing up comes with an invisible handbrake that puts your body at a certain point and says: easy now. We're being normal. We just walk. We just stand still. We just sit.
And as I write that I think: what a loss.
Because dancing makes you happy. I know that for certain. Not because someone told me but because I know it. In my body. In my head. In those moments when I still do it. And when I think back to that nursery school version of myself who just danced like it was the most natural thing in the world: she actually had it completely right.
What happens in your head when you dance
Let me throw in a small piece of science. Not a long story because I'm not a scientist, just someone who can operate Google. But it really is true: when you dance your brain releases dopamine. That's the stuff that creates a good feeling. Happiness in powder form but liquid and free and without side effects.
On top of that your heart rate goes up and you breathe more deeply and you move your arms and your legs and your hips and somewhere in between all of that you simply forget everything that was on your to-do list. The dishwasher. That email you still need to send. That one thought that has been going around in your head for three days. Gone. Gone gone gone.
Dancing is basically meditation but for people who can't sit still. And that is exactly where I fall.
Housework with music is a completely different housework
This is a fact I truly believe with everything in me and that I recommend to everyone: do your housework with music on. Not a podcast. Not a true crime series in the background where halfway through the hoovering you suddenly can't remember whether the murderer was the neighbour or the ex-girlfriend. No. Just music. Preferably music that makes you happy.
I promise you: the washing up takes less time. The floor gets cleaner. The laundry smells better. It's not logical but it is true.
And then it starts by itself. You're waving a tea towel around. You're walking with a little dance from the kitchen to the living room. You do a small salsa move at the washing machine. Nobody sees it and it doesn't matter because you're not doing it for an audience. You're doing it for yourself. And you're happy. Just happy. From the drying cloth and the music and the fact that you're not thinking about anything else for a moment.
If that isn't life wisdom I don't know what is.
Bad mood? Put something on.
Okay this is my absolute conviction and I challenge anyone to prove me wrong: you cannot dance to a song you like and stay in a bad mood at the same time. It is physically impossible.
I've tried it. On those days when everything goes wrong and I'm grumpy and I basically just want to sit and sulk. Then I put something on anyway. Sometimes reluctantly. Sometimes with the attitude of: this isn't going to make any difference because I am genuinely in a terrible mood. And then the song starts. And then my foot is already tapping along a little. And then something shifts in my shoulder. And before I know it I'm dancing in my kitchen and I've forgotten why I was so grumpy in the first place.
It takes one song at most. Sometimes two.
No therapy. No long walk in nature. No hour and a half conversation. Just a good song and two minutes of moving and that's it.
I'm not saying you solve big problems by dancing. You don't. But for the everyday bad mood that comes from nothing in particular, dancing is genuinely the best medicine there is. And it's free. And you don't need a prescription.
Why do we stop in the first place?
This is the question that really gets to me. Honestly. Because at some point children just dance. Always. Everywhere. Every child that hears music moves along. It's a reflex. It's built in. Nobody teaches a toddler to wiggle to music. A toddler just does it because it feels like the most logical response to a good beat.
And then we get older. And we dance less. And eventually we only really dance at birthday parties when enough has been drunk, or at weddings once the first person has stepped onto the dance floor and you feel safe enough to join.
So what happened?
I think it's shame. Somewhere between nursery school and secondary school you learn that you're being watched. That there are people who judge. That dancing in the supermarket might look a bit strange. That you might not be good at dancing. That someone might see. And then it stops.
But here's the thing: that toddler wiggling to music? Not a good dancer. Really not. No rhythm, no technique, no idea what to do with the arms. But that toddler is happy. Purely happy. From moving to the sound. And nobody is standing there judging because it's just a happy child that moves.
At some point we buried that happy little toddler inside ourselves under a layer of what-will-people-think. And that is a shame. A real shame.
I dance in my kitchen. And I'm not embarrassed about it.
I'm just going to say it: I dance in my kitchen. Regularly. While I'm cooking or emptying the dishwasher or waiting for water to boil. I dance in the living room when I'm alone and a good song is on. I move along in the car when I've got something on that I love. I sometimes dance in the hallway before I go outside just because I can.
And I'm not embarrassed about it.
Well. A little bit if someone catches me. Then I briefly pretend I was looking for something on the floor or that my neck was itching. But after that I just carry on dancing.
Because somewhere I decided that I don't want to keep burying that happy toddler inside myself quite so deep. That I like the feeling of moving to music too much to leave it behind. That I'd rather be a bit silly in my own kitchen than spend the rest of the day with a stiff face going through life when really, inside, I actually felt like moving.
Life is already serious enough. My kitchen doesn't need to be as well.
A small invitation to everyone reading this
Put on a song today that makes you happy. Just one. Do whatever you're doing: folding the laundry or cleaning the shower or making dinner. And just move along. Not perfectly. Not technically. Not for anyone. Just for yourself.
And if you look a little bit silly doing it? That's fine. Silly is okay. Silly and happy is better than neat and grumpy.
I promise you that after that one song you'll have a little more air. A little more space in your head. Maybe even a smile that wasn't there before you started.
Because dancing makes you happy. We knew that as children. We've just forgotten it a little.
Time to remember.
Do you dance in your kitchen too? Or are you more of a secret car dancer? Let me know in the comments. I don't judge. Promise.
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