Opinion: At Shine & Soar, joyously dancing past limits

“My name is Karma,” she said smilingly, looking up at me. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“It was my pleasure — thank you,” I returned and reached down to shake her hand as she reclined in her wheelchair. “I love your name, and you have a great smile!”

We were attending Sunday’s fourth annual “Shine & Soar Showcase” at Champion Ballroom Academy in Kearny Mesa, sponsored by WheelchairDancers.org’s Dynamic Inclusive Dance.

There were many smiles around that circle of differently abled dancers, some in wheelchairs, some autistic, some of us simply awestruck. This was their day, not mine. I was only there by luck or happy fate.

A friend of my spouse is legally blind; she has connections to this group and invited us to join her for the performance. A day later, I heard about it again on KPBS and was intrigued enough to agree.

Creative movement (usually including wheels) synchronized to music marked the event, and, by the end, it was clear that we were glimpsing a beautiful community of mutual support. We clapped along with the music and at the end were all invited onto the dance floor to join in.

I’ve personally found that performing or giving a speech in front of my peers often gives me the most butterflies. But here, the support of this audience of peers gave wing to the performances, which were perhaps humble by professional standards but lovely in their authenticity and free-wheeling (literally) in their unabashedness.

My favorite dance numbers included two by married couples. In the first, the husband spun in his wheelchair around his wife’s hand; then they would move away from each other as though they were in a “pairs skating” competition, back and forth, each time a bit different, as a love song wafted in the air. With the other couple, a terrible auto accident had left the wife a partial quadriplegic. Yet she was nearly erect, strapped in her transformer-wheelchair, wearing shimmery black velvet slacks and a huge smile as her husband danced with her to Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll.” After they finished and left the performance area, I saw them enjoy a long and tender embrace together.

Opening the second half with an especially poignant scene, a different pair reenacted the many days when even choosing to get out of bed and face another day of disability is difficult. The woman lay on her bed, a wheelchair nearby. The man, whether representing a mate or a caregiver, comes in to help her get up, but she simply wants to be left alone and stay under the covers. Yet he persists until she is first sitting upright in the chair and eventually finding joy in movement, more rigorous with each moment, and in expressing herself physically within her current abilities. The scene embodied the energy of the entire event.

This day, everyone there got out of bed. Everyone did their best, sensing the love and affirmation from this audience of their peers, families and friends. After the event finished with a flurry of group movement, all of us around a circle, everyone lingered in shared fellowship well into the afternoon.

This was a special day for everyone who is part of this community. And I’m so thankful to have caught a glimpse of the energy, artistry and joy they shared with each other, while the rest of us who were lucky enough to have been there were warmed by their light.

Trenda is the author of two books and a retired nonprofit executive who lives in Bay Ho.