03/19/2026
This past weekend my husband and I went to see a friend of ours who is an Elvis tribute artist, and as soon as he started his first set, I jumped up and dragged my friend with me to the dance floor. I mean… how can you not dance to Elvis Presley?
I noticed lots of people chair dancing — tapping their feet and be-bopping in their seats, clearly enjoying the music but not getting up. Truth be told, I’ve been that person before.
At the last show we attended, I had no one to dance with. Then I noticed a woman about 15 years my senior dancing to every single song. I told myself that if I saw her at intermission, I would ask if I could dance with her.
She got me up for every song after that.
She was pure light. Her spirit radiated. I watched as she invited others up too, and I remember thinking: If I’m ever at a dance and see people sitting there wanting to get up… I’m going to invite them.
Well, that day came.
I saw a young person, maybe 13, watching me. I motioned for him to come dance with us. Not missing a beat — the opportunity for fun was not passed up.
The next song started and I waved to another woman.
“Come on up!”
A shy little “No, no.”
So I walked over, took her hand and said, “Come on… I know you want to.”
The smile on her face was huge as she gave in to my power of persuasion.
When the music slowed and I walked back to my table, I told people I passed, “I saw you dancing in your seats — next fast one, come on up!”
That’s when the list of ailments started spilling out: asthma, bad knees, bad back, shoulder pain, neck pain, arthritis. One woman said, “My legs wouldn’t thank me tomorrow.”
So I smiled and said,
“Don’t worry — I’m a reflexologist. I’ll give you my card. You can have fun today, then come see me this week. We’ll work on those aches and pains.”
Then Viva Las Vegas started. Up we went again.
My friend and I started grabbing the chair dancers — you could see it on their faces: Please pick me. Soon it snowballed. People started inviting others up. Before long the dance floor was full of people laughing, dancing, and singing their hearts out.
Then Elvis switched it up and sang Let’s Twist Again. I looked over and there were people shaking what their mama gave them.
I high-fived the older lady with the bad legs and said,
“The twist! Look at you go! Those legs don’t look bad to me!”
Her eyes were full of joy.
The woman with asthma was dancing freely.
Everyone was having a great time.
And in that moment, as Elvis played on… pain seemed to have left the building.
It reminded me of something I see often in my work: healing doesn’t always start inside a treatment room. Sometimes it begins with music, laughter, movement, and people feeling connected.
The cheers and calls of “encore!” brought my friend back for three more songs. On the last one we joined hands, held them high and swayed side to side.
Later people stopped me to say,
“Thank you for dragging me up. I forgot my pain. I had so much fun today.”
But what struck me most wasn’t just the dancing. It was how infectious belonging can be.
A smile.
A wave.
A little encouragement.
Suddenly people who felt shy, sore, or maybe even a little lonely were laughing and moving together.
This post was inspired by an article written by a colleague of mine on the importance of belonging — and how deeply our bodies and minds respond when we feel connected.
This past weekend, on a small dance floor, many people experienced that.
For a couple of hours nobody was too old, too stiff, too sore, or too shy.
We belonged — if only for a moment.
It also reminded me of something Marianne Williamson wrote:
“As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.”
A lot of people let their light shine that day.
An invitation to dance, a sense of belonging — along with a little Elvis — seemed to be the best medicine of all.
Let your light shine today!
If you made it this far… thank you, thank you very much.
