Getting in the Way...Intentionally

OSA 154, Tuesday, September 18, 2007, 9:00pm, Winn Dixie in Little Havana, Miami SW 22nd street & 17th ave

I love dancing in places where no one ever sees dance. I am happy to liven up the mundane activities of life with dance, and so I seek out places that are dry, stale, stiff--begging for some movement, some sign of LIFE! Such was the scene at a grimy Winn Dixie in Little Havana this evening. Cluttered with food and beverages we don't need, chips on sale 10 for $5 and mountains of Budweisers scraping the ceiling. Searching for the fresh produce section is tedious and I begin to move to speed things along. Little children dash past me to the bin of hideous, cheap Halloween costumes. They don't notice me, but their parents give me weird looks, "get away from that crazy lady," they might be warning with their eyes. I dance my way to a skimpy strip of greens that I am supposed to choose from to make a salad. I feel like jumping, spinning, screaming, being childlike. Feeling free to warm up the cold air threatening to freeze my movement over.


A woman asks me if I am doing belly dance. I tell her I'm getting in a little exercise before dinner. I graze over the hundreds of cans of beans, packages of pasta, bags of chips, and wonder how long it's been since these foods were in the earth's hold. My movement mimics the discontinuity of the modern-day food chain.
Nothing on the shelves excite me because I know when I eat them I'll also be ingesting pesticides, food dye, and salt and sugar additives. What will this do to my movement, I wonder. Spinning inside the cocoon of imaginary food, I am overtaken with laughs and leaps, as I embrace the absurdity of it all. Here I am at the "market," and there's hardly any real food to be found, just skeletons and suggestions that were once-upon-a-time natural.


Later the people working the checkout counter are all smiling and pointing at me. Speaking in Spanish, I don't understand all they say, but their body language signals they're enjoying my spontaneity. I keep dancing until I get inside the car with bags of bananas, granola, and, fresh veggies for a salad, and (my weakness!) a huge bag of tortilla chips. Pleased that I have activated yet another sacred space in the hearts of those never exposed to the healing powers of organic creative expression, I can now go home and overdose on munchies in peace!