Did you ever think someone in a wheelchair could tap dance? Well think again. With special gloves sporting metal plates affixed to their palms and fingertips, the members of Mount Sinai Rehabilitation’s tap dancing class skillfully manipulated their hands from “heel to toe” along to a crooning Jerry Lee Lewis. I couldn’t help but tap my toes in time as I observed their display of skill and joyful tempo. Attired in tap shoes and a glittery “Gotta Dance” tee, Mary Six, a former Rockette who lives with dystonia, taught us about brushing and cramp rolls as I languidly swayed to the enticing music. Then Mary Six waltzed around the room demonstrating with her feet the unique steps each participant should execute with their hands.
They say where there’s a will there’s a way. Everyone in this class has certainly found their way, giving me pause to reconsider what we really need to accomplish our goals. “Disabled” you say? Perhaps you need to review your dictionary, starting with the meaning of “ABLE!”
Posted in Inspiration
Tagged Able, Dance, Disability, Disabled, Disease, Dystonia, Health, Inclusion, Music, Neurological disorder, Perspective, Positive thinking, Walking aid, Wheelchair
For most of my life, I’ve been “dis” at ease with my Dystonia, so if the shoe fits…
There are a number of nasty words in the English language but perhaps none worse than “dis*ease,” “dis*ability” and “handicap.” They make us feel less than whole human beings and fling us outside some perceived realm of “normalcy,” promoting discomfort with what I call lack of perfection. They beg the questions: Is there something wrong with ME? I move, therefore I am? I spent years chasing idealized images until stopping short at the conclusion my flawed realities will have to do perfectly fine. Besides, I prefer to see life as a philosophical and psychological journey rather than a crooked walk down the street.
We all share in creating dis*ease unease: personal discomfort with outward signs of weakness, inquisitive (I didn’t say mean-spirited) stares turning humans into objects, well-intentioned questions, unsolicited assistance invading silently staked personal dignity. No one wants to envision taking on the physical and emotional struggles of illness but for many, ill-health is transacted as an inescapable aspect of the business of life.
When dis*ease turns on a dime, remarkable is the proliferation of the healthy, blissfully unaware of their fragile status. People fail to appreciate the feats of nature in the properly functioning body until the control system goes awry, focusing on beauty bumps that mar the surface. We worship flawlessness, youth, good looks, virility, physical strength, aiming for the maddeningly elusive perfect 10. When I confess my desire for someone’s easy lope, they laughingly note how I hardly covet their stride while I stand mystified. Perhaps they imagine a pigeon toe, wobbly knee, or less than shapely leg, rather insignificant compared with the navigational mischief practiced by my naughty neurotransmitters.
Our true beauty resides beneath the skin in how we open our hearts to life and share our souls with others. Dis*ease can distort the pretty picture that’s merely gift wrapping, requiring us to appropriate Superman’s x-ray vision and judge one another for the qualities we carry, catapulting dis*ease into ease.