“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” C.S. Lewis
The magic of live theatre couldn’t be dimmed, despite the face masks and social distancing, as I sat transfixed at the Belvoir Theatre in Sydney watching a matinee performance of My Brilliant Career.
Beyond the compelling themes and narrative, a picture became etched in my mind of the gifted actress who played two roles: Sybylla’s grandmother and a young girl in the family where Sybylla was sent to nanny. Both roles were played so convincingly. The actress became the grandmother and then she became the young, playful girl. Sitting in the front row, I watched with growing fascination, the poised body language and measured tones of the grandmother, the self-assured air, the stiffness of her spine and subtle tilt of the head, and then the incredible transformation when she became the little girl, unselfconscious and playful, blurting out words, head bobbing and body nimble and fidgety, moving around freely, with a heart full of mischief. How could this actress inhabit these two characters with such authenticity?
I was reminded of an unforgettable moment I witnessed early last year, whilst visiting a chapel at an aged care facility. Sitting in the back row, I watched two elderly women arriving, shuffling into the chapel clutching their walking frames to steady themselves, steps slow and methodical, until they lowered themselves carefully onto the pew near the front.
Whoever chose the songs that morning went for some lively, old fashioned gospel tunes, with toe-tapping beats and uplifting lyrics. I held my breath when the two elderly ladies rose to their feet, walking frames abandoned, and began dancing together. They swayed their hips like teenagers, linked arms and swung one another around in circles, smiles radiant and faces alight with joy. It was as if the years had slipped away in that moment and they were young women once again, bursting with energy and without a care in the world.
When the song ended and they returned to their seats, and their frailties, I wondered if I had imagined it all. It felt as if the earth had tilted on its axis and for a few sacred moments these women were able to shrug off the shackles of age, and embrace their youth and freedom once again.
Can you remember the last time you danced? I always loved to dance and have fond memories of nights spent at local nightclubs and parties with the girls, shaking our hips to the beat whilst encircling our pile of handbags. Even now, I love nothing more than seeing a good band and hitting the dance floor. The pandemic has weighed heavily on many of us. Dancing has been one of victims, along with life-affirming rituals we have taken for granted such as hugging the people we love. Some days it has felt impossible to move under the weight of the pandemic’s doom and gloom. The air we breathe has been thick with stress and worries, making us choke. The uncertainty, the last-minute-cancelled-plans, the separation from loved ones, the long lists of restrictions and rules, sucked all the joy out of life, and left us feeling old and tired. No wonder we have forgotten how to dance and play.
When I visited the theatre, a little light switched on for me. I was reminded of the hopeful child that lives within us all. Once upon a time we all had baby eyes filled with delight. We were fearless and radiated love, looking around us with innocence and wonder, still aglow with the purity of heaven before the grubbiness of the world rubbed off on us and stole our joy.
Perhaps it’s time to let these neglected ‘children’ out to play. With their help we can learn to dance again. We can find things to laugh about and to realise that we don’t need to know it all and have all the answers. They can teach us that being grown up isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
We can choose to turn our attention to the beauty of nature, music, art and literature, simply getting outside to walk barefoot on soft grass, breathing in fresh air and lying on our backs gazing at the big blue sky. We can give ourselves permission to feed and nurture our souls with creativity and freedom. The child within helps us remember our dreams long forgotten, and invites us to ignite our hopefulness in a future full of possibilities.
I dare you to spend some time being the childish version of yourself, unpretentious and playful, letting go for a little while at least of all of those disappointments, problems and heaviness, embracing pleasures long forgotten and remembering how good it feels to dance.