An Allegorical Tale of Dancing and the Art of Love

At almost every wedding throughout the world you will get one old guy getting up on the dancefloor to show the world that he can still groove. He thinks he is still king of the disco and he's loving it, getting down to boogie to the tune of Will Smith, or some other contemporary tune that does not fit the style of dance he's doing. If what he's doing resembles dance in any way, shape or form, which it often doesn't. Usually it looks like the old guy is doing the Funky Chicken, when he is thinking he's doing the Hustle. But that's ok, because the old guy thinks he's cool. I say old guy, but it could be an old gal too. Often a great Aunt who would wear orange to a funeral and spit on the coffin; or an old guy who has supped too long on the free champagne. Whatever.

When it comes to love, I am like the old guy on the dance floor.

I think I can still bust a move, when really, all I am doing is showing everyone who's watching what an idiot I am. I think I am cool, that I own the dancefloor. Look at me do the cha-cha! And I didn't even have to drink to look this stupid.

You have to admire the old guys and old gals, though. In spite of their lack of grace and their arthritic interpretations of Kylie's "Locomotion", they are still out there, on the dancefloor, doing it. They're either oblivious or they just don't care. I suppose that probably has something to do with the amount of alcohol consumed. They will insist on doing the mambo when Mambo Number Five comes on. They will even attempt the Macarena. Or the conga. Just don't drag them off the dancefloor because it would be like pulling the legs off a new born kitten.

Me? I am the relationship 'spaz'. Admittedly, I am also the sort who would wear orange to the funeral, spitting optional. I have no rhythm, I am out of step and I embarrass everyone who's watching. Still, I don't want the music to stop, because no matter how rubbish I am, I like to dance.

Sometimes I think it may be in the best interest of all concerned for me to just not get up on the dancefloor anymore and reserve any dancing to the shuffle I do while alone in the house. That perhaps I am better off dancing on my own, rather than out there stepping on someone else's toes. Maybe I've got it all wrong.

Don Miguel Ruiz says in Mastery of Love: "What makes you happy is love coming out of you. And if you are generous with your love, everyone is going to love you. You are never going to be alone if you are generous. If you are selfish, you are always going to be alone, and there is no one to blame but you. Your generosity will open all the doors, not your selfishness. Selfishness comes from poverty in the heart, from the belief that love is not abundant. We become selfish when we believe that maybe tomorrow we won’t have any [love]. But when we know that our heart is a magical kitchen, we are always generous, and our love is completely unconditional. "

I could do with a magical love kitchen. And with not feeling like such a huge loser.

Saturday's guidance from Daisaku Ikeda is: "You must be strong. There is no hope of winning in this chaotic world if you are weak. No matter what others do or say, it is important to develop your ability and then put that ability to use. Strong faith, of course, is the best means for drawing out one's inner strength. You each have a very important mission, and I hope you will awaken to and be proud of that mission."

Nichiren Buddhism also puts forward that the people in our lives, particularly those we are involved with in some kind of relationship, are mirrors. The only way to change one's circumstances is to change oneself.

But you know what? Right now, I still feel like rubbish.