I have a gig tonight with my samba group in Austin. We're heading up this afternoon after work.

I've been toying with the idea of quitting the group. There's nothing more that gives me an immediate, joyful rush as does dancing to live drumming, but I can count on one hand the times lately that I've actually had that opportunity. Because I'm in the second tier of dancers in the group, we rarely are asked to perform. We are the "understudies". Permanently, apparently. So without the chance to dance with the drums, there is little left that I get pleasure from. I hate the long rehearsals, I hate the expense of the endless costumes, I hate the fact that the choreography hasn't changed in years, or the rehearsal CD, or the stretching routine, etc.... Mostly, at our twice-weekly rehearsals I'm profoundly bored. The only exciting, fulfilling part for me is the live performance, and I never get that chance.

I think, too, another issue is that the choreography doesn't challenge me anymore. When I first joined, teaching my body to bend and contort in these undulating Afro-Brazilian ways was a huge puzzle for my brain. But since then, I've practiced, I've taken outside classes, and while I am in no ways particularly talented, I feel like this group is stuck at a plateau that I'm now beyond. In the last two years I've only gotten a creative charge from guest instructors, not from anything I've learned with my group.

But being part of this group has helped me develop my physical identity in significant ways. Before, I identified myself wholly based on my brain, on my intellectual abilities. Learning how to dance was a fearsome thing, because there comes a point when body movement resists analysis and a different kind of intelligence takes over. I feel so much more grounded in my body now. I appreciate it and am more aware of it -- before, I hardly thought about my body, and covered it in swaths of clothing. Now, there's nothing more I like than to show off my ass and I feel much more respectful and conscious of my physical health. Thinking about leaving this group feels in some ways like a betrayal of a faithful friend.

Last year, I was very aggressive about moving up from the beginning level dancers to the second tier of performance dancers. I thought for sure that my apathy would lessen once I had the rush of steady performances to look forward to. But that hope hasn't materialized, even though objectively, I can say I'm one of the better dancers in this group.

Even tonight, when we are only performing for 15 minutes, several of us were cut from one of the dances for space consideration. I understand from an artistic standpoint, but when such cuts become a pattern, it's discouraging. In order to move up to the first tier -- the tier that regularly performs -- one has to put in a certain number of years, schmooze with the directors and play politics. I don't have the patience or inclination or the deep pocketbooks for that.

Truthfully, I have a bad attitude about the whole thing. My fear about quitting, though, is that in doing so I will become a less interesting person. My involvement with this group over the last 4 years -- as both a drummer and a dancer -- has been a point of interest for other people. I am unusual and artistic and a little bohemian because of this group. I like that association, even if admitting so makes me shallow and vain. I like the shimmery patina of having some small local fame. But, oh, the glimmer is thin and less sparkly now. I know this fear is irrational and is only so dominant because it ties in with my general social anxiety issues. The women and men in this group are a large part of my weekly social interactions, even if few have actually become friends, and I worry that without them, I'll revert to old, hermit-like behaviors.

Regardless, I'm going to treat tonight like a swan song, and just dance with bountiful energy, responding to the drums with my body, and letting the joy course through me. Because, in the end, I still don't know anything other than dancing to an irresistible rhythm that can snap me to vivid awareness of the moment or that can give me a sense of grateful connection to an elemental, global heartbeat.