The Absolutely True Confessions of a Former Middle-Agéd Belly Dancer

I've turned in this semester's final paper: an epistolary memoir about poetry and prayer… and DANCING! Plus: An update for paid subscribers.

In the old dance studio, 2019. (Credit: Zina Gomez-Liss)

Hello! How are you all doing? I am so happy you are here.

I’ve got news: Just after midnight on Saturday (still Friday if you are on Houston time!) I turned in my final assignment for my Poetry of Meditation class with Professor Ryan Wilson.

The title of this post is actually the title of my paper…

The accent in “Agéd” is to emphasize that the title itself is in iambic pentameter.

The essay is a bit bonkers¹ with the Holy Ghost descending upon me speaking in meter. I thought I would have some fun since the rest of my work was pretty serious all throughout the semester. The assignment was to write an essay about poetry and prayer, and Professor Wilson kept it pretty open to interpretation. I had a lot to say, and I exceeded the word limit a smidge (I hit 3080 instead of keeping it below 3000 — mea culpa!). I quoted Emily Dickinson,

Dana Gioia

, the Virgin Mary, Richard Wilbur, Lucille Clifton, Seneca, St. Clare of Assisi, and Henry Vaughan.

The great poet of the Psalms, King David, is featured prominently since he was a notorious dancer:

And David danced before the Lord with all his might; and David was girded with a linen ephod. (2 Samuel 6:14)

He was so scandalously clad (not unlike some belly dancers I know) that his wife Michal accused him of flashing the servant girls, but King David claimed he was dancing for the Lord. 

You turned my wailing into dancing;

    you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.

    Lord my God, I will praise you forever. (Psalm 30:11-12)

Dancing is a movement to rhythm, but not all of it is art. There is nothing wrong with dancing for joy. However, my approach to belly dancing required athletic training, practice, and discipline. There is a difference between dancing and the art of dance, just as there is a difference between pouring out the romantic effluvia of one’s soul on a page and the actual hard craft of writing something suitable to publish. Just because we have intended to write poetry doesn’t mean we’ve written good poetry. Any artist must know the limits of their current skills and understand what is possible by studying the masterpieces of their chosen genre. The artist’s role is to close the gap between what they are able to do and the greatest art they can possibly imagine. 

A couple of years ago I had to decide between dancing and writing. I know there are people who can do both, and I came to the realization that I could not. Whatever I choose to do, I want to do well, and in order to pursue the craft of writing poetry seriously I needed to sacrifice my dancing. I miss the women in my troupe. I miss dressing up, putting on makeup, and traveling to gigs. I miss learning new choreography, shimmying while making dinner, and listening to new drum solos and songs in Arabic.

I am a kinesthetic learner — learning by moving my body and “doing things” — and this way of experiencing the world gives me great joy. However, I will need to confess something …