My moving experience

A word (or several) about dance.

This is my passion, and I'm pleased I got the chance to dance here. I keep thinking about the movement of my experince here, for example how my perspective - how I see this corner of the world - has shifted in the last three-and-a-half weeks.

Dance is naturally a very obvious embodiment of a moving experience. And as usual, here as at home, it teaches me. I first danced with the young Bengalis on the boat cruise through the Sunderbans. The "stereo" was comprised of speakers and a mic amplifying the soundtrack of a
Hindi movie playing on the old DVD. Pretty lo-fi, but with a good beat and some willingness to get silly it hardly matters. Some willingness crawled into me that night (as if I can ever stop that) and I got to move with some raucous fun-loving people. I was pretty introverted on
that trip, on the heels of my intense stomach bug. I was hardly eating as I recovered physically. So I didn't feel like I shared much of myself (grateful to my teammates who did). But that night, for that moment, I got to share.

Next we got to dance with some lovely folks in Dhaka during a birthday party, and then there was dancing with the Rotarians and Rotaractors during the cultural program at Cox's Bazar. At that gathering, women sang in Bengali and played the harmonium. It went from melodic and
ethereal to so kickin I could no longer sit still. Luckily the Rotarians felt the same way. I have to say, it's nice to be in a country where the men seem to feel a bit more free to pick up a beat.

And there's been an added element of delightful surprise because these are the men in suits who run the Rotary meetings, take us around to noteworthy projects, engage in all the formalities ... Nothing beats an inspired dance with a suited Bangladeshi Rotarian who is suddenly
shouting and clapping and raising his arms and waving side to side.

We've shared in many ways here - this just happens to be one of my favorites. At the district conference yesterday, a Rotarian approached me from Sylhet and asked if I remembered him. Despite the fact that we met literally 200 people that night, I absolutely remembered him
because I danced with him. I didn't even get to talk with him that night, and I did not know his name, but I knew him.

It's reminded me that language barriers mean nothing when we can employ the universal language of the body. Not to get too gushy, but when I dance with someone, I witness their joy. I reveal my authentic self, and I share in a kind of communion with them.

--
andrea