Suddenly it occurred to me that perhaps I had been robbed.  Robbed of choice.  The thought created such a funnel of emotion that all that was around me disappeared into a whirling dervish.  The wind whispers ever so cleverly "man was given free will." If this is true, why did I not consciously choose?  

I can remember dancing as early as I can remember walking.  Walking and dancing were one and the same in my insulated world.  Life was so beautiful, so musical.  What else was there to do with the movement of time but dance?  And so I did.  I danced every aspect of my life.  I breathed it, I lived it, I dreamed of it.  I paid the piper for it. 
The joy dancing infused in my every moment was blinding - Wonderfully blinding.  As a dancer I am begged to express myself.  As a human I humbly ask permission of those around me to let me express what I'm thinking.  As a dancer I am able to live fully committed to the moment I am experiencing.  As a human I am forced to put things aside for a better time.  As a dancer the moment the music begins I am brimming with life.  As a human I am only lost in the feeling that the music might impose upon me.  As a dancer I have a purpose to give.  As a human no one seems to want my goods. 

It's a strange beast, the soul of a dancer.  It's unforgiving in its quest to never stop giving. There, in the giving is the dancer's gift in return.  Time is time though, and a dancer's time is short.  No one wants the aging dancer's gifts anymore.  There is no anger like that of an aging dancer's body.  What is a gift if it is never given but something that's hoarded, self-indulgent and worthless in a world where the greatest joys come from giving?  Yes, this strange beast, the dancer's soul that screams to give becomes even stranger when the dancer's soul finds itself no longer welcome.

So why did I forget to choose when everyone else was deciding if they wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, a candle stick-maker?  Was there a moment missed wherein lied the opportunity to choose?  I rifle through old thoughts and writings looking for the missed moment.  It is nowhere to be found.  If the dancer in my soul was ever open to defeat, it hid itself well in the most knowing moment.  I don't remember ever having a choice.  This beast's drive is as undeniable as a child longing for its mother.   

Choice, the word makes me chuckle, makes me hurt.  I am an aging dancer now with more choice than I ever could have fathomed.  I'd like to put this gift of choice up for sale on Ebay so someone can make good use of it.  You see it seems that I and my dancing soul certainly have no clue of what to do with this new found choice.  
So was I robbed or given one of the greatest gifts. I think the latter.

Oh, my strange beast, I love you so.
I   Am   A   Dancer.
I   Am   Human.