Dancing

When I see a piano in public that is not being played, I cannot resist sitting down to play a few songs. Every session is different. On a quiet evening, I usually play slower, more delicate music. At rush hour, I might feel like playing something more upbeat. A passer-by may nod, say a few words, or walk by entirely. Occasionally, something delightfully unpredictable happens. I reserve many of these tales for private conversation, but one thing that happened earlier this week brought me so much joy I had to share it here.

I was playing piano when an a woman, perhaps in her 50s, walked past and took an interest in what I was playing. She asked about what I could play, sharing Ed Sheeran and Sinead O'Connor as examples. As is so often the case when someone mentions a pop singer, I go to Taylor Swift; people tend to enjoy songs that they have heard before, and the likelihood someone has heard one of her most famous songs was great.

I started playing I Knew You Were Trouble, an upbeat song. She nodded a few times, picking up on the beat of the song. She then took her coat off and started dancing. A jovial dance that one could not help but look at. She took up space, bringing energy into the air as she did. What was a relatively quiet place became eye-catching. Music, dancing; all serendiptious. She danced with more energy than I could dance. It was clear she was in her element. Like I was while playing, too. It was a mini, unexpected show.

Of the dozens of times I have played piano in public, never have I seen someone so immersed in the music. I was delighted; music is so much more significant when other people dance. The world can be magic. People like a woman in her 50s who dances to the beat of their own drum are what make the magic.