Posts Tagged ‘dance’

that time I was almost an NBA cheerleader…

Posted: January 30, 2015 in brain belches
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A few years ago, when we lived in Dallas, I almost became an NBA dancer.

I know that, if you know me,  you are probably thinking NO WAY!

some of you might have thrown up in your mouth a little.

BUT…oh, it’s true!

I was a HUGE Mavericks fan, and I saw in the newspaper that the Mavs were having tryouts for Maniaacs.
The Mavs Maniaacs are a hip hop dance troupe of beefy, uninhibited men.
They were the original NBA big man dance team.
They dance at halftime and during breaks.
The tryouts were being held at a local dance studio. There were about 100 big, sweaty, over enthusiastic dancing men. It was a sight to behold and a fragrance to be smelled. The judges were Mavs dancers and local dignitaries. I was dressed for battle: a bright orange Mavericks shirt, blue basketball shorts and Chuck Taylor all stars.
I’m a condensed beefy boy, I was about a foot shorter that the other guys. In fact, I Heard one of the judges say “look, is that mini-me?” This didn’t discourage me.
This was my shot, I was gonna take it.
They taught us a choreographed combo that we did in groups and then we got to freestyle some serious dancing.
They would eliminate several people after each round. You would wait for your number to be called (or not) and you would proceed (or not).
Again and again I danced my guts out and made it through.
This was my shot, I was gonna take it.
We ended up doing the routine about 8 times. I hadn’t danced like this since…never. My muscles were rebelling against me.
I’m allergic to choreography. I’m not coordinated enough to keep up, but I can creatively shake my booty.
This was my chance…my ONLY chance to be a part of an NBA team.
Sometimes life gives you a free throw and you got to take a shot.
Whether you make it or not, you take pride in the fact that you tried.
I made it to the final ten!!! Then they told us that they were looking for five dancers.
One more round…
Ignore the pain…
Take your shot.
During the last round , one of the judges shouted words that I thought I would never hear: “Okay, we want to see some flesh…if you want to be a Maniaac, we need to see your stomach!”
This caused most of the guys next to me to start ripping off their damp shirts and flinging them around slinging warm sweat everywhere. I learned the true meaning of GUTS and glory.
Some things should never be seen…
Some things can never be unseen.
I. Just. Could. Not.
As much as I wanted to be a Maniaac, I wanted to hold onto some shred of dignity.
I couldn’t bring myself to unfurl my man boobs.
I didn’t make the top five.
I was ALMOST an NBA dancer.
I left with my dignity, a really sore back and a great story.
I had Stepped out and lived a great story.
Life is about stepping out even when you don’t make the cut.
It’s taking risks, it’s overcoming the paralyzing fear of public opinion.

What if success were all about risking instead of reaping.
What if we realized that it’s better to be an “almost was” than a “never tried”.
What if success were found in the act of stepping out.

Sometimes you got to do something unexpected…unlikely…unbelievable.
We should live in constant pursuit of a better story.
Sometimes life gives you a free throw and you have to take a shot.
Sometimes it goes in the basket…nothing but air.
Sometimes it bounces off the backboard.
Sometimes you don’t even get close.
The point is that you took a shot…you played…you tried…you danced.
You got off your butt, you took a risk, you overcame fear.
And you gained something more valuable than any trophy…
A Life lived in pursuit of a better story.
Step up…
Take a shot…
But please, for the love of God, leave your shirt on.

Staying Alive.

Posted: January 23, 2015 in brain belches
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I was about 12 years old and I was going to my first night club.

I was excited! Once a month the 20th century club (a very cutting edge establishment) had a Catholic youth disco night. It was on a school night and I was going! Why stay home…when you should be dancing!
I didn’t want to show up alone, I didn’t want people to think I was a loser.
So I invited my cousin…
My incredibly incredible cousin Carmen agreed to go, because she was (and is) a really kind person.
One of our Moms had a great idea…for us to wear matching outfits. We wore denim vests and purple shirts. I think there might have been sequins involved. We looked like part of the Osmond family.
I tried my hardest to look like Barry Gibb, I had a gold chain and shiny, plastic shoes. I put some of my Mom’s Aqua net on my hair and my Dad’s old spice on my face.
We got dropped off and I couldn’t wait to boogie.
I had been watching American Bandstand for a while so I was schooled in the fine art of disco.
I danced like crazy.
I danced with all my might.
I danced like someone was watching.
That was a problem.
I’ve since learned that It’s a whole lot more fun when we dance like nobody’s watching.
Just because we love the dance.
But, it turns out, THERE was somebody watching. An actual FEMALE somebody, who wasn’t related to me. I was doing some alluring moves to KC and the Sunshine Band, when I looked across the dance floor and there was a girl smiling at me! And…then…she…waved…me…over!
i was fairly certain that she wanted to dance or maybe elope.
This girl was about my age and she was cute. Feathered hair, a shiny dress and braces to match.
So, without breaking eye contact, I danced over to her. that’s right, I was that cool.
She smiled the whole time. The disco ball reflected off her retainer.
She was standing with some friends drinking a 7up.
I boogied up, ready to hustle her heart away.
She giggled and said “you are such a cute little boy!”
And then dream girl patted me on the top of my head like I was a puppy…SERIOUSLY.

that wasn’t the reaction I wanted. there would be no eloping that night.

Then she walked off with her friends.
I was crushed…humiliated…embarrassed.
I remember it like it was yesterday, because that kind of painful rejection parks itself on the dance floor of your psyche.
This girl saw me in a sweaty horde of preteen wanna be dancers and in comparison I looked like a little kid. I was smack dab in the middle of a crowd that was taller than me. If only the lighting had been better, she could have seen my mustache. Then it would have been undeniable that I was a MAN. instead she saw a puppy in a pen of big dogs. It was all about the surroundings.
It’s still true 40 years later.
I’m 5″1′ tall.
Honestly, I never really notice my height until I’m standing right next to people who aren’t 5″1′.
It’s really only in a crowd that I feel small.
I look around, and all I see are armpits. I lose myself in the crowd. It’s when I break away from the crowd that my differences don’t matter.
Let me share something unbelievably profound with you…

Ifyou want to STAND OUT you got to STAND OUT.

I know…that just blew your mind, right?
If you want people to get to know the real you STAND OUT, don’t blend in.
Why would you get lost in the crowd when you should be dancing?

Cue the dancing stormtroopers.

Posted: November 25, 2014 in fizzy faith
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I’m wearing one of my favorite t shirts today.

It’s got a picture of stormtroopers dancing on a checker board floor under a mirrored ball.

I love this shirt because it combines my love for Star Wars and disco.

yes my friends, I said it…I love disco, I love the nightlife, I like to boogie on the disco floor. Don’t hate, when you should be dancing.

My happy little shirt does make me wonder…why would stormtroopers dance? They aren’t very nice guys, and guilty feet have got no rhythm, right?

Maybe…just maybe…these are renaissance stormtroopers, they would rather dance than destroy.

Maybe it’s a matter of not allowing their past actions and associations dictate their groove.

It’s a reminder to me, that life was designed to be more of a dance than a drudgery.

But the problem is some of us have lost the beat… We stopped dancing years ago… We lost the groove… We stand on the fringes, leaning against the wall, watching others dance. We hear the music but it just doesn’t move us like, perhaps, it once did.

What keeps us off the dance floor?

For some of us, it’s all about our carefully crafted reputation. we don’t want to take any risks. We are too cool for that. We are dignified. We are practical. We are entirely too grown up for that nonsense!

We don’t want to risk. but the dance of life, at its core, is a big risk.

The only safety dance is to avoid the dance floor all together. That eliminates all the risk, it also eliminates all the fun and adventure.

Sometimes we allow things to steal our groove.

We have danced a few forbidden dances and we think that has disqualified us to be on the dance floor. Don’t allow your past actions and associations to dictate your groove.

Clean off your dance shoes and get back out there.

Sometimes we think we couldn’t possibly dance because we haven’t mastered all the right moves. if we wait until we are perfect, we will miss the dance!

The truth is we all move a little differently (some more different than others).

We live in the land of a thousand dances, everybody has their own groove. It is the chaotic choreography of creativity.

Sometimes we’ve been dancing with the wrong partners.

We have to find the right partner…the Originator of rhythm and every other good thing , The Lord of the Dance. We need to let Him lead. He has given us the Spirit as our own personal dance instructor.

We need to learn to hear the right music. Sometimes we can’t dance because we’ve been listening to the wrong stuff. Some music was never meant to be danced to.

If something…anything has been stealing your groove, get rid of it! Shake it off!

Don’t be a wallflower when it comes to the big dance of life, hit the floor and bust a move.

Find YOUR groove and do a little happy dance.

Listen for the Spirit salsa…the rhythm is gonna getcha!

Cue the dancing stormtroopers.