Life Is a Dance



Between June and July, our family celebrates three wedding anniversaries and two birthdays. These are such joyous occasions, and a time to reflect that truly, life is like a dance.

To begin, many hands are joined in a happy circle for the mystery of birth. The music can vary with cultures, but its traditions are always rooted deep in time and memory as families dance together to give thanks for a new life.

Then come the growing up years, a time of exploration and change, a time for meeting challenges—and each other. The swing is always in motion, the young dancers stamping and whirling to a pulse-pounding beat.

Draw close, swing away,

Move to the beat of young hearts

And age-old rhythms.

Later, the music changes and becomes the rumba, the courtship dance. Sensuous and silky, slow and fast, loving and yearning, the rumba weaves between and around young lovers, drawing them closer or pushing them apart.

Then comes the Argentine tango, tempestuous and complex. The first years of married life mean adjustment to each other and then to parenthood. Sometimes there is a misguided kick that leaves a partner limping. Sometimes there is a forgotten step. Swift and slow, in and about weave the dancers.

From there to the quickstep as  children and responsibilities grow.  Young parents are in five places at once; they juggle responsibilities and jobs and school events, teacher’s conferences and income tax returns. And, yes, once in a while they step on each other’s feet… but the dance goes on.

Middle age brings the fox trot, slightly slower but intricate still. Partners whirl through years of discovering new pleasures, new parts of the world—and each other again as the children become adults and find their own paths and families.

At last, then, the waltz that can be as swift as a Viennese… or sweet and slow to Country time. The strains of a waltz are sometimes nostalgic, sometimes sweet, othertimes bittersweet. It doesn’t matter. The dancers are familiar with each other’s steps, now. They recognize the beat of the music and intuit each other’s moves. They can circle the floor  with smooth steps and with confidence.

Life is a dance in which we all begin and close in a circle. We move to music that is as old as time. Our steps and patterns have been used by all people everywhere—but they are always as unique as we are, ourselves.


About Maureen C. Wartski

I’m Maureen Wartski, writer, artist, wife, mother, grandmother; you can see that I have many of the bases covered. I was born in Ashiya, Japan, a (then) small town which lay cradled between sea and mountains. In the evenings, we would walk along the road that ran past Osaka Bay, and a great moon would rise out of the water to turn the world to silver. I’m told that my first words were, “Big moon!” All my life I have felt the tug to write something, draw something, put together something with fabric, string and color, and the urge to create has grown through the years. I suppose, then, that it’s a natural thing that this blog be full of the things that so many of you enjoy doing…drawing, making something with fabric, and writing. Yuri's Brush with Magic, my newest book for middle schoolers follows the adventures of a brother and sister, the magic of words, and the incredible magic of the natural world. I'd love to hear from you! You can send me a note at: My blog is here: Or friend me on Facebook!

6 responses »

  1. hi Maureen, i loved your comments again. i did put your words on my facebook account i think and i tried to write the comments to share with you on facebook but since i am not quite sure i did it right. i hope you will check your facebook page to see if it comes up on that page. Anyway, the dance of life is always interesting whether we like the music or not.
    smile , yes i am. i hope all your celebrations were joyous and you are breathing in a sigh of contentment as you go on your dancing way~~~ from donna

  2. Maureen,
    I loved the image of life coming full circle. The hiaku and quilt tapestry made this post especially lovely.
    Linda A.

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