It is a good thing I stuffed my jingly clothes in a sparkly bag and left it in the back of my wardrobe.

My lovely pal has begun teaching belly dancing again! I am back, I am jingling and I feel fantastic.

I love to dance. In fact, it is my favorite (my only) exercise where I work hard enough to sweat. I walk and I do yoga, but I am not interested enough in exercise to actually work out with any vigor. For me to be dedicated to a physical activity for more than an hour, it has to be dancing.

Judging by my staying power and my mental concentration, I think I am better at this than when I was younger, which is a bit surprising. I am old, after all, and in many ways weaker than I was twenty five years ago when I started.

I started belly dancing in my thirties at the Sephira dance studio at the Aberdeen Cultural Centre in Moncton and then encouraged that teacher to follow me out to Baie Verte when I moved out. The belly dancing classes went on for a year or so, with our valiant teacher driving all the way from Moncton, until a lovely new neighbour, and practiced dancer, took the classes over.

At the time of these classes I was a mother of three. I was cheerful but tired, just glad to get out of the house and be with a pile of laughing women. I loved it but I was not fully in my body. I did not think about myself much. I threw on baggy clothes, tied back my hair and kept moving.

Eventually classes died down and then COVID caused havoc, dividing friends and family. We didn’t dance for years. I thought I might never dance again. I was sad about a lot of things so I didn’t admit to myself that I was missing dancing, laughing, jingling with the other gals. But I never threw away my scarves, belts or veils.

And now, thank goodness, this same lovely neighbour has picked up where we left off and is offering local classes again. She too is getting older and wants to keep limber, but I think she started the classes with a sense that we needed to rebuild community. And it is working a charm. It has been a joyful reunion, founding members joining new dancers, and all of us united in dance.

This dancing, it is good for the soul, that’s what I am saying. I feel fantastic, alive and full of energy. I am bonier than I was ten years ago, having gone through some tough patches, and my body sags where it once was plump and taut. But I don’t care. I feel lovely.

As I head into my sixties I find that I am less self conscious and inhibited. When I first began belly dancing I was a bit awkward, especially if the teacher asked us to improvise with the veil. I would not allow myself to feel beautiful or move gracefully. I would tell people, I love the dance but I can’t do the veil.

In photos from that period I look as if I am pinned to the wall. I appear to be trying to disappear, right in front of the camera. And why? My husband thought I was beautiful, and I was full of energy and love. But I didn’t think it was okay to feel and act beautiful.

But now, all of a sudden, I feel as sexy as when I was twenty, but with power. Older, wiser and worn, I am swaying about with the veil, shimmying and making snake arms with more confidence and sexy energy than when I was a mother ebbing and flowing with hormones.

I am in tune with my feminine energy in a new way. It feels right, ordained and proper.

Am I leaving behind the neurosis and ambition of the struggle? Am I more self aware, or is it more than that? Am I releasing my inner joy, or am I tapping into an open source of universal love?

Lord knows why but it feels like my feet are drawing strength from the earth and my palms are open to the energy that swirls around us.