Dancing in the Rainbow
One sleepy Saturday morning at the end of July, I rolled out of bed, eyes still closed, pained that this whole “adult-ing” thing (some might also call it the J.O.B.) required me to be up before the chickens. Unwilling to open my eyes just yet, I walked cautiously through the dark apartment, praying I had not left anything trip-worthy on the path leading to the bathroom.
Somehow I managed to pull myself together and get amped up for the day ahead. It was our annual run/walk and it was always a good time. But, this year, the best part about it all was that, for the first time in five years, my race-day responsibilities would be limited to schmoozing.
No volunteer wrangling. No food management. No shirt tracking. No time keeping. No speeches. Schmoozing. That was it. And THAT was one of my best talents.
About an hour after reporting for schmooze duty, I met an absolutely precious 8-year-old little girl whom, I thought, belonged to one of the volunteers. To my delight and her (initial) disbelief, we shared a name – Sherry. And once she moved from disbelief into belief, she instantly became my BFF.
Young Sherry was beyond adorable with her long hair sectioned into neat braids accessorized by a rainbow of barrettes. Her bright, brown eyes sparkled and danced as she talked.
And if that wasn’t enough cute, she wore a delightful rainbow-colored tutu adorned with a pink satin bow at the waist. Purple converse sneakers with white laces completed the dazzling look.
Young Sherry danced her way through the crowd, inspiring joy with each step. People stopped her, admiring her rainbow-colored tutu with the pink satin bow. Quite the little ham, she willingly posed for every requested picture.
I watched her, wanting to feel that childlike wonder, never meeting a stranger, loving all life had to offer.
I watched her, longing to dance through my own life with such effortless elegance and joy.
I watched her BE-ing, fearlessly and confidently.
Before I knew it, early morning had become early afternoon and the big event had come to a close.
I looked around to say “Goodbye” to Little Sherry, but she was gone. I asked a few volunteers, but no one was sure of her direction.
I walked to my car, thinking about the morning, thrilled I had the opportunity to schmooze...especially because it allowed me to meet Young Sherry.
Trying to channel the energy of that sweet girl, I skipped, smiled and jump on the way to my car. My posture was solid, confident.
A gentleman passed, looking at me slightly perplexed. I smiled.
I wandered through the parking lot, trying to remember where I had parked. I smiled.
The parking attendant did a double-take in my direction. I smiled.
I spotted my car and skipped right on over. I smiled.
As I went to open the door, I caught my reflection in the driver-side door. I paused. Confusion washed over me.
Looking back from the reflection was Young Sherry, in her rainbow-colored tutu and purple sneakers, smiling sweetly, lovingly. I smiled.
I rubbed my eyes. Young Sherry was gone.
But I remained. In my tutu. And I smiled.
Before getting in the car and heading home, I took a few moments to dance around my car. I did not care who saw. I did not care what anyone thought.
For the first time in more than three decades I felt alive as I took a few moments to dance in the rainbow.
In the Summer of 2011, I was gifted the most darling rainbow-colored tutu. From the moment I slipped it on, something happened, transforming the shy, insecure woman I had come to know into a fearless, confident girl who was always excited to try to make great things happen.
That day I realized, more than ever, the beauty in connecting to that part of ourselves. The part that is open, free and ready to take on the world. That part that is unaffected by negative comments or uncomfortable stares.
I realized that, when we allow ourselves to dance in the rainbow, we are opening the door to our authentic self. A self that thrives, survives and is strong beyond measure.
Ready to dance in YOUR rainbow but unsure how to find it? Let’s connect and talk about how I can help.