dancer

The human body is the best work of art.

Stop thinking about the steps. There are no moves in blues, only movement. Just listen to the music,_ Matt whispered into my ear.I let go, softening into his arms. The sways became steps, and without even realising, I was dancing.

A fit, healthy body__hat is the best fashion statement

World seems like a void of silence every time footsteps are deprived of dancing shoes.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

When the melody plays, footsteps move, heart sings and spirit begin to dance.

Dance resides within us all. Some find it when joy conquers sorrow, others express it through celebration of movements; and then there are those... whose existence is dance,

This is a day of celebration!Today, we are divorcing the pastand marrying the present.Dance,and you will find Godin every room.Today, we are divorcing resentmentand marrying forgiveness.Sing,and God will find you in every tune.Today, we are divorcing indifferenceand marrying love.Drink, and play that tambourine against your thighs.We have so much celebrating to do!

Had we not decided to perform this as gracefully as a dancer__ leap? But we turned it into a dinosaur__ dance party!

Behind every dancer there__ someone that broke her, a song that moved her, a moment that inspired her and a dance floor that healed her.

... so this is for us.This is for us who sing, write, dance, act, study, run and loveand this is for doing it even if no one will ever knowbecause the beauty is in the act of doing it.Not what it can lead to.This is for the times I lose myself while writing, singing, playingand no one is around and they will never knowbut I will forever rememberand that shines brighter than any praise or fame or glory I will ever have,and this is for you who write or play or read or singby yourself with the light off and door closedwhen the world is asleep and the stars are alignedand maybe no one will ever hear itor read your wordsor know your thoughtsbut it doesn__ make it less glorious.It makes it ethereal. Mysterious.Infinite.For it belongs to you and whatever God or spirit you believe inand only you can decide how much it meantand meansand will forever meanand other people will experience it toothrough you.Through your spirit. Through the way you talk.Through the way you walk and love and laugh and careand I never meant to write this longbut what I want to say is:Don__ try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourselfand let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.Let your very identity be your book.Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.So go create. Take photographs in the wood, run alone in the rain and sing your heart out high up on a mountainwhere no one will ever hearand your very existence will be the most hypnotising scar.Make your life be your artand you will never be forgotten.

I__e never paid any attention to time. Dancer says I__e enjoyed a luxury most people never have. He hates clocks and watches and everything that has to do with time. He says people already have too many lost days and that most folks live in the past or the future but never the present, always saying stuff like ____ unhappy because ___ happened to me yesterday, or I__l be happy again when ___ happens to me tomorrow._ He says time is the ultimate villain.

I think what creates a winner is a person who can connect with their partner - another human being.. connect with their soul

Yatho Hasta thatho Drishti, Yatho Drishti thatho ManahYatho Manah thatho Bhaava, Yatho Bhaava thatho Rasa

You may make love in dancing as well as sitting.

Music was not so very different from mathematics. It was all just patterns and sequences. The only difference was that they hung in the air instead of on a piece of paper. Dancing was a grand equation. One side was sound, the other movement. The dancer's job was to make them equal.

He's at ease, his body sculpted to the music, his shoulder searching the other shoulder, his right toe knowing the left knee, the height, the depth, the form, the control, the twist of his wrist, the bend of his elbow, the tilt of his neck, notes digging into arteries, and he is in the air now, forcing the legs up beyond muscular memory, one last press of the thighs, an elongation of form, a loosening of human contour, he goes higher and is skyheld.

Burdened no more is soul for whom life flows through dance like breath.