Soul Train Line

This week I leave for the first of three conferences I am working this month. I’m under-prepared for the first one, new kid on the block for the second one and probably should be working on something right now for the third one instead of writing these thoughts. In varying capacities, my job for each event could be described as “professional [read: perfect] Christian” or facilitator. In each instance I will have a microphone put in my hand, walk on stage and be expected to say something profound, encouraging, or at base, interesting and super spiritual. Some fresh, new theological insight is supposed to be amplified by the microphone. Someone is coming expecting me to bring them “a word of encouragement” or create space for spiritual growth and refreshment.

And I will do all of that. It’s what I do. And I’m good at it. I know how to appear perfect.

I thought what I was good at was perfection. I thought that was the goal. I can act like all the words I said were well researched, well planned, Divinely inspired and exactly what I knew were going to come out of my mouth. I can craft my appearance and actions so that I present exactly the person I want to appear. I can believe that my job is to present a picture of togetherness, perfection and how-does-she-do-it-all-ness.

I can. It’s my default setting. But I’m in the process of changing my settings to be a much more human-like machine. Because being human brings me more towards shalom than a setting of perfection ever could. See, I don’t have any fresh new theological insights. I don’t know that I believe any of us do anymore. Right now, my fresh insights are coming from the dance floor.

Or instead of professional or perfect, I think I might do it Rosie Perez style this month. I’ll answer the dare of the Soul Train line, the dare to be great – not perfect.

Remember Soul Train? It’s where I first saw dance diva (and later actress) Rosie Perez on 1980s Saturday television. Speaking of her experience years later, she said the Soul Train line changed her life because it got her out of her shell…it “dared me to be great”. Great, not perfect. And she is great. She leaves no doubt that she is bringing it all to the dance floor and leaving it there. In this montage of her moves, it’s like every trip down that line is her one, wild, wonderful shot at the Soul Train line.

The Soul Train line is spontaneous, creative, full of mistakes and half-moves; it is now. There is no room for calculating the next move, judging your experience or comparing yourself to others. The moves flow, the music plays and you work it down the line. Going down the line is at once a communal experience created from the energy of those forming the line (for without them, there is no line to dance in) and completely solitary as each move is your own. We “Oooh, Oooh” each other on knowing how vulnerable it feels to both make mistakes and impressive moves in front of other people. The Soul Train line is a raw human spiritual experience that happens at nearly every bar mitzvah and wedding in America (If that’s not your experiences, you are going to the wrong parties my friend.). Yet, it is strangely common and profound.

The Soul Train line reminds us that good happens outside of the choreographed and rehearsed numbers. Not everything can be planned and even when it is, those plans get changed. Mistakes are actually part of the dance. No matter how flawless my moves (and life) might be, I will experience the mistakes of others and make many of my own. It is part of figuring out life.

“Making mistakes reminds us that we are made to be human and we are not God…The logic of the mistakes is that if the mistakes were not visible, we might consider our work or ourselves to be perfect like the Creator. Native American belief is not about perfection, but rather about our role or place in the universe.”

Dr. Randy Woodley, Shalom and the Community of Creation: An Indigenous Vision

The Soul Train line is real. It’s doing the best with what you have in the moment. Training, talent, stage presence, connection to the music, mood, the right outfit – it all comes together as you shake and shimmy down the human tunnel of energy, but it’s still not perfect. It’s not meant to be. You take your chance, come out of your shell and go. You try a move and get a cheer. You try another and it doesn’t feel right. You make mistakes. You learn a little bit more about how you move and what works for you. No matter what, you keep dancing down the line.

That’s my new perfection. Soul Train line perfection. Keep dancing. Keep making mistakes. Keep trying new moves. I will give it all I’ve got which means actually engaging my thoughts, emotions, and the other people in the room. I will work with the music I’ve been given and be aware of what moves are available to me. I will pursue openness over rightness and feeling over routine. I will dare to be great, I will dare to be human. I will  dare to share my real self in an imperfect kick-spin-thrust-shimmy down the Soul Train line kind-of-way.

The Soul Train line is good for me. It’s one of the few places in life where we all just put ourselves out there – free to be human, creative, engaged and open to possibility. I’m walking into this month like a Soul Train line, honey. When things get scary and I want choreography and perfection, I’m going to take a deep breath, imagine Don Cornelius with his microphone and suit and try some moves. Help me, Rosie!

Dare to be great and dance.