This summer, I had the opportunity to go on a cruise with my extended family. We traveled up to Boston, Massachusetts where we left for a week on an exquisite ship that took us up and around various beach towns in Canada before coming back to Bar Harbor, Maine for one last day in port. While the excursions were exciting and I adored getting to experience Canada for the first time, I think I had the most fun on the cruise ship with my family. We got to share moments of laughter over great food at dinner, experience shows in the on-ship theater, and even watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics as we lounged by the pool, cheering as the massive outdoor screen showed all of the countries entering Paris via the Seine. 

Best of all, we got to listen to live music. It was everywhere. At the piano bar, in the piazza, by the pool. It felt like wherever you walked, hurriedly rushing from one side of the ship to another, you could not escape the sound of music wafting through the air. Pianists, violinists, and vocalists put on show after show, and my family could not get enough of it.

There was a particular band that my mom and my nana took to so heartily that my nana would simply turn to my mom and ask her, “Where is our band playing tonight?” Composed of a killer vocalist accompanied by a pianist, bassist, and expert guitar player, our band played most often in the late evening and covered everything from modern pop music to classic hits from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. What all of the music had in common is that it was almost guaranteed to make you want to get up and dance. And dance I did.

Dancing is something that I am both completely horrendous at and also absolutely love to do. As I am typically in bed by the time most clubs open, I don’t get to dance as often as I would like, but when I do, I am known to go all out. What was special about the dancing I was able to do on this cruise is that I was able to do it with my mom. I danced and jumped and bopped and spun in circles as my mom joined in and my dad watched from the side. In the midst of this unadulterated joy, one moment stands out. My mom was dancing with me, but also laughing at me and trying to correct my rhythm and wild limbs. I let her say her piece, but when she finished, I looked at her and shouted over the music:

“How often do you do something you’re bad at just for fun? For no other reason than joy -- just for you?”

This conversation was not a new one. My mother and I had talked before about how hard it is to have a hobby without trying to use it in some way to optimize your life or worth. Think about all the people who love to create, but feel guilty about “wasting” their time, so they validate their creative impulses by turning them into side businesses or shops on Etsy. A lot of people play sports for fun, but there is almost always a competitive impulse, a desire to win. 

Dancing brings me joy. I don’t do it to get better at it. I don’t do it for exercise. I don’t do it to win any competitions. I don’t do it because someone else wants me to. I don’t dance as a way to optimize any part of my skills, my body, or my life. I just do it because it is fun. 

Maybe you have something like dancing in your life. It could be drawing, singing in the car with the windows down, or taking meandering walks around the city. Whatever it is, where the process is the outcome, and the outcome is joy, I hope you make space for it in your life. I hope you make space to be bad at something, but to do it anyway. I hope you make space to “waste time,” but to do it anyway. I hope you make space to do something for solely selfish reasons, but to do it anyway.  I hope you make space to create not as a means to an end product, but as an end itself because creating brings joy. 

In other words, in this crazy world, I hope you take time to dance.