The Dream.

This medal is supposed to signify a whole lot of things.

This medal is supposed to signify my foray into the world of salsa.

Foray. Interesting choice of words, I think. Foray, as defined by The Free Dictionary, is a venture, or an initial attempt, especially outside of one’s usual area.

It certainly is. Who would imagine, less than a year after starting salsa, I would be assisting teaching and doing salsa nationals. And winning. Oh well. Not quite winning per se but 2nd place ain’t bad for someone who was so afraid of salsa initially that he deemed it NOT for him. And now, I practise my hip movements every single flipping morning. Bachata and merengue are my favourite dances. Latino music play pretty much constantly on my iTunes. A Latino addict? I’d say.

I got a text from a friend tonight in regards to my winning 2nd place.

“Haha you deserve it Paul. I’m so happy for you to find sth that will cheer wherever and whenever! That discovery is so a great achievement!” (sic)

It is a great achievement. And I loved the moment I found it.

I love dancing.

Oh, I love dancing.

I found this quote the other day.

Dance asks nothing from me. It demands nothing, only that I show up in my dance shoes and with a willingness in my heart to move. When I dance, there is trust. Trust between me and my dance partner, that I will take her on a journey as I see fit, that I will keep her safe and if anything, put a smile on her face when the song finishes. When I dance, I escape. I disappear into the music and I drown myself in the movement of her hips, my feet, her hands, my fingers, her heartbeat, the quiet breaths in between the music. I escape to a happier place. To a place where the world does not exist, where for one moment in time, I can ditch the worries and sorrows of the day and where the only real thing I need to think about is making her smile and whether I am still on time.

Perhaps, I’m one of the crazy few people who see dancing as wayy more than just a hobby. I love it so much that it should be a passion. Something I end up doing 24/7. Something I want to do the moment I get out of bed until the minute I drop, exhausted, into bed at night. I think it would be good. No. Great. No. Amazing. No. I’m not quite sure what word I’m hunting for now but its definitely out there.

Some would just call it an infatuation. An addiction. An obsession. I call it all of the above.

Some of my friends are so happy whenever they hear or see me dance. Its soothing, one says, to watch me so happy. Because it means that when I step out on the floor, I empty everything I am into it. Sure, there are times, perhaps, that I am tired or I am full or whatever that I don’t dance as well. But my head, if not my heart, is still on the dance floor.

I want to live this dream. So bad. But there are things and there are realities and there are issues and there are those moments in life where…you’ve just got to wake up and smell the damn coffee.