I was driving along in the backseat from Vineyard Haven back to Edgartown, the fancy yacht club town.  I saw a bonfire out of the corner of my eye as we drove on the road that ran along the shore. And I shouted, "Pull over!" to the driver. We got out and started walking down the beach towards the glowing fire. It got warmer as we neared and then I could see, there were a bunch of people dancing. I did not hear any music. And as I looked closer, I saw that some of these people were in wheelchairs, others had Down's Syndrome, and some had physical needs that limited them in their ability to move and walk. I watched as they moved, like the flames of the fire. They circled around and around, almost floating by me as I stood in awe. I became entranced by the flames, and by the dancers. They were singing and making sounds. They were making magic. Life was pouring out of the them, like the fire that kept us warm.

Today, the woman and I who coordinate the movement ministry that I founded five years ago at our church, organized a somewhat spontaneous dance. We held it outside (that was the only place available to us today) and to tell you the truth, I was a little bummed. I thought, why isn't there room in the inn for us dancers? Why are we being put outside? While my partner organized on the inside, I brought my stereo system outside, hooked it up to the extension cord and let it rip. I played Black-eyed Peas of course, with a little Michael Jackson and a little Pink thrown in for good measure. No one was out there with me at first, and I thought, should I wait for others to show? Should I go in and pretend I have something to do? Nope, I don't think so. I think I will dance. So there I was, dancing on the pavement, all by myself. I tasted freedom, I tell you. The sun was shining, the trees were golden, and then a few of us just cut the rug together for a while. We waved to passersby, we wished good morning to the cyclists and we said goodbye to our worshipping parishioners and welcomed wholeheartedly those entering the space. Dancing on the street was even better than I could have imagined. We could include those passing by, kind of like me on the beach that magical night on Martha's Vineyard. The vitality of the dance reached others. We fill up with Life, and it spilled right on out. The dancers on the beach that night reminded me that it is our natural instinct to dance. We don't even need the music. It is in us. We are all dancers. All of us. So, live it up. Have fun. Be silly. Dance it out. Be a magician. To dance is to breathe, our African friends remind us. Let's not forget to breathe...and to dance.