A few years ago, I was flipping through the radio dial on a road trip when I landed on “Hotel California” by the Eagles. I’m not a huge Eagles fan, but one line from the song has always stuck with me.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.
That line takes me back to high school dances. Back then, I danced to forget – that I was overweight, that I was shy, that I had little confidence I could attract, much less keep, someone’s interest. But for a few songs in a dimly lit gym, none of that mattered.
As we get older, we keep dancing – but in a different way. We take photos to remember. We listen to music to remember. We journal, we celebrate, we gather with friends – all in an effort to hold onto moments that feel like they’re slipping away. Other times, we do those same things to forget – to drown out regrets, failures or painful memories.
But what about dancing in the moment?
In the movie “Elizabethtown,” there’s a scene in which Claire sends Drew on a solo road trip to shake him out of his self-doubt. Along the way, he follows her guided playlist, stops for the “world’s best chili,” chats with strangers, and stares up at the stars – small moments that help him step outside himself.
When he starts to retreat into the past, Claire’s recorded voice interrupts: “Sadness is easier because it’s surrender. I say make time to dance alone with one hand waving free.”
Drew pulls off the road, finds an empty path among the trees and dances – no trying to remember, no trying to forget. Just being.
Maybe that’s what we need more of. Not just living in the past or trying to erase it, but stepping into the present, right where we are.
When was the last time you danced in the moment?
