Aquarium
Soft brown tresses dance in the wind, flower petals budding in the breath of the breeze. They follow the body with the finesse of a shampoo model, long, luscious locks floating in mid-air, rippling like a mermaid's hair underwater. In liquid movements, arms-turned-fins wave to the side, then lean forward as the torso does, rounding the upper body into a serene C-shape. Legs, smooth and feminine as the contours of a pearl, yet supple as swaying seaweed, bend at the knees. One heel slips against the toes of the other foot, resembling an angelfish gliding through coral reefs. Rolling up, each vertebra stacks sleekly, sequentially, straightening the dancer's supple stance. Eyes closed, face flushed the shade of an anemone, he licks his lips, preparing for the final phase of his routine.
And the performance is as fluid and mysterious as when he first slid into the studio, his hands arcing around a head that knows no prejudices against ethnicity or heritage, religion or ethics, gender or politics. Instead, he belies those trivial stereotypes, soaring through the sky as a dolphin unafraid of the loss of traction above and below his limbs. He is simply being who he is, the only creature he can truly be, proudly displaying his identity to the world around him in the aquarium he lives to swim in.
Presenting a last leap, both wonderfully developed legs stretch to his sides, forming a perfect frontal split as flat as the underbelly of a tortoise. Sapphire eyes, as deep as the ocean's darkest depths, glitter as a ray of sunlight streams across his line of sight. He seems weary, head drooping onto his chest, shoulders sagging, grace nearly pulled from him as if a jellyfish has zapped the elegance from his tranquil pose.
But this particular diver does not yield to the stings in his neck, back, legs, or pelvis. He rises to the occasion-rather, his determination and defiance does-curling his arms above his head, drawing a pointed foot to the back, ready to practice the entire piece again with the spirit and vitality of a young seahorse.
The ever-hungry jellyfish of aches and pains trails behind him in hot pursuit, but isn't as fast or eager to achieve its mark as the entertainer is. He flies through the air like a tropical fish, always a few strokes ahead of the venomous tentacles of his antagonist. No matter how much the members seek to sap his strength, his resolve refuses to fade away, preserving his vigor better than marine biologists protecting an endangered creature. He is free, whirling in he waters of his own sea, conserving his lifestyle, his music, his individuality that is as original and endless as the numerous grains of sand on every beach.
Today, he declares that freedom is not achieved by remaining a tiny hermit crab huddled on the shore.
Freedom is developing the uniqueness of speech, exchanging beliefs, celebrating the ideas of the whole animal kingdom without staying confined to one shell of personal perspective.
Freedom is also the divinity of dance, bodies mingling together like a school of fish, dorsal arms and tail-like fins waving in crystal waters in the synchronized waltz referred to as life.
This is what dance represents: the liberty to choose what the soul desires, the free will to crawl wherever the next seashell takes the spirit, the freedom to shift in any direction the heart longs to stride in.
Broaden those narrow values.
Let the waves carry the senses away.
And remember, dear traveler, that the freedom of choice is only a mere crawl away. Pure willpower will be the artist. Dance shall be the rhythm shifted to. Movement is the only avenue to get you there.