I heard of an old Indian proverb years ago which went along the following line: “Watching us dance is to listen to our hearts speak.”
It came back to me in Scartaglin on Saturday afternoon. In a school-room no more than a quarter filled with children, who had just made their First Holy Communion, they began to dance with the joy of the occasion, of their youth and of doing exactly what their hearts told them to do.
We were in the middle of a photographic session and I had planned to do more but the dance broke out and that was that. You can’t spancel spontaneity.
For an all too brief, beautiful few minutes the room was filled with the kind of abandon and joy that only dance can induce.
It couldn’t last as the dancers spun with great energy until dizziness caught hold. Like life itself it was over almost as soon as it began. But it was lovely while it lasted.
Parents of the children present praised the management and staff of the school. Not only for guiding those in their care through one of the most important days of their young lives but for the reception they provided at the school on their return from the church up the road. There were certificates and flowers and photographs and then the dance – and the teachers and volunteers got stuck into the washing up – and that was it.
