Dancing in the Streets…and Resilience
Last night I saw the magic of resilience sparkling.
A band played at an outdoor festival, the stage set up on the (closed) main street of my favorite small town. The grown-ups sat on their stadium chairs or meandered around, listening and chatting. The kids, who ranged in age from barely two, to 12 or 13, were dancing in the streets.
Two hours of what Barbara Ehrenreich called “collective joy.”(And Emile Durkheim called “collective effervescence”… how perfect is THAT???)
One little guy was a spinner: he literally spun around and around...took a break...and spun again. Other kids watched and tried it out.
There were circle dances.
There was a girl on a scooter with glittering lights, weaving her way in and out of the dancers.
Groups ebbed and flowed. Arms gyrated. Feet hopped.
Three girls suddenly stopped and gazed at the patterns the band's light show was making on a nearby building.
In addition to the JOY, and the way ideas spread from child to child, I was struck by the what happened to this mixed-age collection of random kids: they became a group and watched out for each other.
Older kids made sure not to bump into little kids. Little kids stared awestruck at the big kids and tried out their moves. Everyone was happy.
Even the "fake fighter boys" were not only laughing the whole time, they were also acutely aware not to let their pretend punch play dancing get in anyone's way, adroitly twisting their bodies if another dancer boogied too close.
There's no question in my mind, (or in researchers' or theorists' views), that self-regulation (and resilience) are developed through open-ended play . What an exquisite example of this!
The connection with new “friends,”
the initiative of being able to dance and sway and twirl and play however they wanted,
the inventiveness of new motions,
the self-awareness of their responsibility to keep each other safe:
all wrapped in music and the supportive affirmation of their community:
THIS is how resilience is nurtured!
As I reflected today, I thought of the fairy tale, The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Like the young free spirits whose sneakers twirled about the newly black-topped road, the princesses left their real lives every night and danced until their slippers were in tatters.
This is my new favorite version of the story. The soldier who discovers their secret decides he doesn’t want any of them, and returns to the wise woman in the woods who was kind to him.
They, too, found freedom as they took the initiative to sneak out and dance with their handsome friends. They, too, took care of each other, and always made it home safely by dawn.
BUT.
Unlike the prancing that filled my heart last night, the princesses’ swirling resilience had a high cost.
In order to continue, they gave a sleeping potion to the young men their father sent each night to discover their secret. And when the young men were unable to tell the King what happened: he sentenced them to death.
It’s always rubbed me the wrong way that innocents had to perish so the princesses could own their happiness. (Although, to be honest, the young men were only after the reward: the hand of an (unwilling) princess in marriage…hmmm).
But was the King such a tyrant that he would begrudge his daughters a chance to dance joyfully in the moonlight?
Do WE sometimes act that way when our kids just want to experience the joyous wonder of being themselves?
During their last song, the lead singer spontaneously invited ALL the kids up on stage to sing, dance, clap and shake percussion instruments.
A young father even stood at the edge of the stage holding his baby, maybe nine months old, who stretched out tiny arms and waved to be part of the magic.
The crowd went wild.
The kids’ smiles beaming down embodied the hopes I have for all children, everywhere
As the music ended, the band's singer said: "Wouldn't it be great if we could all remember what it is like to be so free?"
It would, indeed.
