The job of feets is walking, but their hobby is dancing.
Caution not spirit, let it roam wild; for in that natural state dance embraces divine frequency.
Dance through life flinging kindness like shimmering rainbows. Find your bliss by sharing your heart.
She will blaze through you like a gypsy wildfire. Igniting you soul and dancing in its flames. And when she is gone, the smell of her smoke will be the only thing left to soothe you.
Dance like the whole world is your stage and every day is your debut.
Never too tired to DANCE... It's my PASSION. It's my LIFE.
DANCE… My heartbeat, my soul, my TRUE happiness.
Any activity such as dancing which involves frequent, long-term interaction with another person creates a great deal of mental, emotional, and physical memory in our being.
Love is stillness quaked only by the leaves' cascading pirouettes.
Young dancers have a beautiful, strong, flexible, and resilient body. And they have the fire of hope in their heart. However, the fire can be a bit feral like a young alley cat. It can go everywhere, in all directions, willy-nilly. It can turn all claws and spitting or it can get nervous and run away. It pretends things that aren’t true and is afraid of showing what is true. The older cat bides his time. He has patience. He pulls the fire inside and lets it smoulder. He doesn’t waste his energy on fights not worth the battle or where the casualties would be greater than the goal. He owns his failures like scars that say it would be wise to take him seriously. He is not ashamed of his loves. He values his spirit and lets it grow. It’s in the eyes. The body may move less but it has presence and a power of a different sort. It is authentic.