It's funny, how many times painting reminds me of dancing. When I was younger I loved dancing. The hippy kind of dancing that is, like at Grateful Dead shows and drumming circles. I loved, especially, to dance outside. Under the stars, or the sun, in the mist or in the rain. It seemed by dancing we were somehow linked to all the beauty that surrounded us and it gave some sort of a sense of freedom, exhilaration, joy. I would wear my brightest, twirliest tie-dye and jump into the sea of moving colors.
But then I grew up, got religion, settled down, had twenty years of pregnancy and nursing... I haven't danced like that in a long, long time. My feet hurt, my legs ache, besides, I jiggle way too much. So painting is still as close as I come to dancing. The blur of colors, movement, and again, joy. So, now instead of dancing like I mean it, I paint like I mean it.
And I still enjoy music, a lot. So here's a dance song for you. :)