A contra medley is a contra dance on steroids. It’s a sequence of different dances, one after the other, without interruption. Without a walkthrough. Without knowing what the dance will be. You’d better know what you’re doing—this is not for beginners. You dance the figure several times times, and then the dance changes. You don’t know what the next move will be, but the roomful of you are doing it, in time and on spot with the music, and with each other as a big, collective hive of joy.
I am at the New England Folk Festival, the 63rd annual, in Mansfield, Massachusetts. It is like a mini-Northwest Folklife Festival at 1/50th the size, with contra dance, Balkan dance, Scandinavian dance, swing dance, music workshops, Morris dancers and rapper sword dancers, and music jamming everywhere.
This contra medley had six dances in a half hour, six callers, and 300 of the best dancers in New England. I was with an older, somewhat heavyset woman from near Ottawa with a thick Scottish brogue. At the first swing I understood I was with an experienced dancer who gave solid, subtle weight, and who was as playful as me.
Contra corners—right to your partner, left to the corner, a hard spin from her sends you back to your partner for a swing, then the inactive couple takes over. Dance change, Rory O More spin, swing your corner, spin, swing your partner, circle, next couple. These are complex moves. All of us were spot on. The musicians and the dancers ramped each other up, each feeding the other. The beat quickened and drove us deeper into bliss.
I did not know that I was capable of this much joy.
The dance ended, with a great cheer. I called Robin, and shared, as best I could, the depth of my feeling with her.
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