It Is The Dance That Keeps The Belief Alive

It was in these rare moments that I really experience being silenced by art, not just because it was something that is marvelous in itself, outside myself, but also because it penetrates the self, bringing back many good thoughts and memories.

Last Friday, I was able to watch CREDO, the year ender of the Company of Ateneo Dancers (CADs), and I really admit that after all the performances, I was really left speechless, amazed by how the group was able to do all of this, both entertaining and dazzling everyone and leaving a message that is very timely and striking.

I admit that because of the numerous performances, I could not give a highlight of the whole presentation. Nevertheless, I have some which I could consider as the best performances of the night, and these include:

1.The "toy house / dream land" ballet number, accompanied by the String Quartet rendition of "Sugar We're Going Down."
2.Of course, I cannot remove from my list their creative repeat of their Skechers number (which I was not able to watch in exchange for pigging out at Shakey's two months ago).
3.The Gospel-themed dance number was a win for me. I never imagined that one could do a dance number on salvation with such life.
-But I could not also forget the various hyped up numbers earlier, most especially the "Glee" medley. Oh, and the moves. Yes, the moves which made my head and arms move, whilst trying to put each and every one of them in my head, with the hopes of being able to apply these in our further presentations.

And I think that everything I have witnessed during the night stirred up something within me. It's not just about being fascinated with the moves, but everything somehow reminded me of my personal Credo, a full belief and acceptance of what I am. The dance reminds me of my own personal dance, and I'm not talking about some kind of existential metaphor to describe my life. Yes, I did learn to dance when I was in 2nd year high school, and I admit that when I started to learn the art, I never stopped riding the beat.

I might have done the switch from dancing to playing the drums and becoming a part of a band, but I never totally said "no" to dancing. Here in the college seminary, where presentations are a must, I was still able to love the dance, to appreciate the music and swing to the beat, counting from one to eight (heck, I was member of the San Jose Mananayaw during my first two years, before it became exclusive to the theology community). I even had one P.E. class which I took under the Modern Jazz class (but is actually Intermediate Street/Hip-Hop), and it was there that I was able to confirm that I still have that spunk and energy to be able to dance, just when I thought that I have lost the appreciation for it. In fact, I still remember that the first music I danced to was the mash-up of "Girlfriend" (N'Sync ft. Nelly) and a few Missy Elliot songs. The last one, as I remember, was my own mix of a few famous R&B songs.

Until now, I never failed to appreciate dancing as part of myself. I might not have joined the most recent dance practice (since for this year, all program presentations were devoted to singing) or made moves for the community since the 11th Bukluran (where the community joined a Marian dance contest, and I was assigned to do the street part). I could say that only two or three percent of my skills were devoted to dance. But then, I could not deny the fact that when I play the music, I go with its flow: banging my head, bending my legs, swinging my arms, acting as if I was playing the drums or strumming the riffs in a major concert. That, my friends, is what I call the dance of life. It is what I cannot remove myself from. It was something that I started which never seemed to end.

And with dancing, I learned two important, inseparable lessons: bringing out everything and setting one's own spirit free, flowing with the music, swaying to the rhythm of life, eventually surrendering oneself with much gratitude. And this is where the existential part will kick in (of course).

Life is just one big dance. You learn the music, do the basic grooves, time your moves and create them, and for a moment or two, one does an incredible feat that would drive the audience wild in amazement and fascination. But in the end, it's not about the wild moves or the type of dance; instead, it is all about giving everything. Whether dancing comes in sets of eight-counts (what I can do as far), or a damn good headspin, what boils down in the end is the total giving of oneself to the music, of letting oneself be, being aware of the music and moving with it. It is giving one's whole mind, body, and heart in hitting the dance floor and executing the moves as good as you can. True living, I believe, doesn't really revolve around the methods of survival or the amounts of success and failures. Instead, its true measure is how much of the self has been given and delivered to the world, the ability to give the whole self in the process of living. In the end, it is the sacrifice of the self that counts, the courage to lose oneself in order to gain this world, to gracefully dance with the music.

Thus, life as a dance is always an endless giving, mustering all our efforts to devote ourselves to those who are other than us, to join them in swinging and stomping in the beat of life. It springs forth from our own determination to go with the flow of music and groove as it were. However, we realize that this effortful act of dancing becomes an act of renouncing oneself, presenting oneself to the music. As one continues to dance, one realizes that even the determination, the passion, and the ability to dance are gifts, something that has been given to us as those who are determined to renounce the self by dancing. In the end, dance shows us that our very own selves, together with our fellow dancers, are gifts to each other, hoping that we may receive each other by continuously moving as one and keeping up the energy as one dance troupe. In the end, the act of dancing becomes an act of gratitude to the music and to the other, a moment of receiving and becoming grateful of the grace that came in one's life as the music that pushes us to go on.

With this in mind, it is true, then, that in dance, our whole being is offered and delivered. We are now called to never stop dancing, to let ourselves respond to the beat of life and go with the flow of the music.