Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Youth is a wonderful thing, changing in your hands, evolving and why not, aging. One day, as I looked in the mirror, I realized it was left behind yesterday. That is ok. Rightly so, there is no turning back here. My friend Ale reminded me, you will never be this young again.
There are certain activities associated with youth, a mindset whose true north is freedom, consequences be damned, as youth has the certainty it will always be worth it. Wisdom will set-in confirming it, don’t you worry. Beautiful ingénues, hindsight is 20-20.
Ok, that aside. One of the best parts about being young is that it is socially acceptable to get excited about things. Jumping up and down and squealing, for instance. I wonder if as we age manifestation of excitement is subdued on account of embarrassment or bad knees, I’ve got both. I can’t entertain the possibility of people simply not getting excited anymore.  I do know that as we have more experience, we try to conceal the heart on our sleeves. Way battered from the intense experiences of our youth. That is another reason sitting the next one out seems forgivable and even desirable, at times.
Then again, you are as old as you feel and, damn it, I can feel any way I goddamn wanna feel, you too. So, this reminds me of another brilliant part of youth… First times. First words, the first time you taste chocolate, first day of school, rollercoaster ride, dance, kiss, broken heart, trophy, the first time you make love, first car accident, marriage, child, their firsts… A fun one, first time you fall in love with a music idol. This energy harnessed by the person at the mic, center stage, personifying an ideal and becoming the collective object of desire. Some of my favorite sex symbols: Elvis, The Beatles, Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Prince, Lenny Kravitz,  -Bono- Their moves awaken primitive feelings, one of those feelings, very characteristic of youth. Elvis Presley was interviewed, and many times questioned about his moves. In 1956 he told TV Guide:  “... I don’t roll my — what they call ‘pelvic gyrations’ — my pelvis has nothing to do with what I do. I just — I get rhythm with the music. I jump around to it because I enjoy what I’m doing. I’m not trying to be vulgar, not trying to stimulate [sic] sex. I just do a lot of wigglin’ and quiverin’, but I never do a bump or grind. I can’t sit still when I sing, so the kids can’t sit still.”
What a loaded answer. People normally mean what they say they don’t, when it is stated right off the bat like that. Then again, music is intrinsically a manifestation of feelings. The most dominant feelings are desire, falling in love, sadness, and anger. Music is plagued with the expression of these feelings. Storytelling with tunes. Sometimes non-verbal musical storytelling takes place. In any case, movement goes together with dancing. What came first, the music or the dance? This is a great question. As many times music imitates sounds, and natural rhythms. One could posit music starts with our mother’s heartbeat. Do you see that too?
It is only natural to move, give into the music, let it rush through you and take over. Dance is a young person’s game, better knees, you know? Which doesn’t mean we stop swaying as we get older, but it does seem that opportunities to dance diminish as time goes by. Continue Reading

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