They say Dance is a metaphor for life. Dancers are, according to Einstein, the athletes of God. According to Nietzsche, the dance is man's ideal, his fine art, a piety he must know and it is his divine service.
The dance's graceful movements, it's pronounced actions, the twirl, the swirl, the leaps, the flights, the turns, the stillness; they mimick the ups and downs and platitudes of life. The rhythms of the dance echo the pulsation of our heartbeats.
"We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams ..." We seem to dance for life. The Dancer believes that his art has something to say which cannot be expressed in words or in any other way than by dancing. And sometimes words become unnecessary, cluttered, perplexing; sometimes the dignity of movement is all that is needed - it speaks volumes.
The dance possesses power, it has strength immeasurable. The movement stirs senses and emotions, it elevates one to the heavens, it reaches deep within one's soul.
The dance is life. Are we dancing? Or has our dance ended?
Dance every performance as if it were your last ...
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