Finding Myself

It came somewhere in between Bhangra and an Israeli dance.

Hundreds of people, hands linked in a circle, spinning and stepping in rhythmic beauty.

This is where I belong.

I made a choice once. I thought I had no other alternative. I thought I needed to "move on" or "grow up." I gave up one of the things I loved the most. Because of that choice, I've traveled down a path in my life, had some amazing, wonderful experiences, learned a great deal, become who I am today.

I don't regret the choice I made. I made it wisely, the best I could. I just wonder sometimes if maybe it wasn't my only alternative. Because I've realized since that dance means more to me than nearly anything else in my life, even if I'm not "the best," even if it's just in an informal setting. I was foolish to think that I could give it up and not looked back. I've spent the last year and five months looking back and longing. I still miss clogging. More than I usually admit. I've seriously considered going back, several times. But that time in my life has passed, and going back wouldn't even be the same.

I'm dancing with the BYU International Folk Dancers now, on their lower-level teams. I hope to move up before I leave BYU. It's the fulfillment of a dream I've had since I was about eight years old. I've watched them perform for years and dreamed of being one of them. Finally I am. It's amazing, and I love it! I feel so incredibly blessed to have this opportunity.

Is it silly, then, that I still miss clogging? One does not replace the other. It just can't. I think I'm learning that nothing ever will. I don't think I'll ever stop missing the rhythm in my feet and the beat in my head, the smile on my face and the amazing feeling of twelve dancers on stage, pounding their feet in unity, and the feeling in my heart when I finish, and it's amazing.

Do you think people dance in heaven?

I hope so.

And I hope they let me bring my clogging shoes.