Every day deserves a dance party

Every morning, we have a dance party.

My six-year-old gets ready for school and then we turn up the speakers on a song she loves—usually a silly one, like a Weird Al polka medley—and her ponytail flies around while she leaps and twirls and sprinkles her spontaneous footwork all over the carpet.

After that, she puts on her backpack and walks out the door into her world.

*

Anxiety, anger, pain thread themselves through my newsfeed–especially these days, at the lip of a heated election.

So many people saying, Look! Look at what’s wrong here, look at what needs to change. I hear pain over what has happened, worries about what’s to come.

If we are to be good humans, we need to look. We need know what other humans do to each other and we need to say to the wounded and worried, “I see you. I love you. I’m here.”

Witness can be powerful, healing.

*

And.

I can get stuck in the swirl of stories that call me to witness, my attention held by events and words that can only ever break my heart. If I step away from the worrying conversations and pay attention to right now, something hopeful is always waiting: the miraculous voices of children, the wonder of breathing in and out.

I’m not suggesting we ignore the injustices and offenses of the world. I do not advocate heads in sand.

I’m just suggesting that beauty and delight exist alongside our heartaches, right in this moment—-that right now, as you scan these words, you physically inhabit a space where something good exists. Where you are, the sky is filled with sun or rain or snow. Where you are, the peaceful can be found in something you see right now, in the sound of your own heartbeat.

And wherever you are in the morning, you can stop for a moment and know that somewhere, a little girl is twirling, twirling, believing today has the chance to be beautiful.

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