Being Is the New Spotlight

A dance floor analogy

Being isn’t the loudest thing in the room,
but it’s the one that moves everything.
And just like on the dance floor, life responds to it.

Being doesn’t announce itself.
It arrives, and everything shifts.

There’s a moment,
on the dance floor or in life,

when you let go of the mind.

You drop the stories

and the pretence,
when you stop trying to hide,
and you stop trying to be seen,
and just let yourself be moved
by something deeper.

You don’t perform presence.
You become it.
Not to impress.
Not to gather eyes.
But because it is what flows.

And in that moment,
when you stop editing, stop controlling,
you become a rhythm others can feel, too.

You’re not projecting.
You’re not choreographing.

You are moving as the moment,
And somehow, the floor begins to shift around you.
People take notice
not because you were reaching for them,
but because you are home in yourself.  

That’s magic!

And that’s what they, too, have been seeking.

Meanwhile, someone nearby might be
trying to hold the spotlight.
Trying to appear radiant.
Trying to dance in a way that gets applause.
But the dance doesn’t lie.
And neither does life.

You can tell when someone’s in their head.
You can tell when it’s pretend, not pulse.

Being isn’t something you perform.
It’s something you allow.  

And when someone who’s trying encounters someone who’s being,
it can stir things up.
They might compliment you,
but something doesn’t quite land.
The words may sound warm,
but the energy behind them isn’t.

It’s not true celebration.
It’s not “I see you.”
It’s more like,
“I want what you have, but I can’t admit it.”

A praise with a pinch of competition.
A smile that scans for comparison.
A nod that is slightly off.

So what do you do then?

You don’t make them wrong.
You don’t let it stick.
You don’t dim your radiance
to make someone else comfortable with their lack.

Because when you’re being,
you know the difference
between acknowledgment
and judgment.

And when you don’t shrink in defence,
or fight in reaction,

you invite everyone to a different possibility.

Life is a dance floor.

Every room you walk into.
Every conversation.
Every creative moment.

Some are trying to remember the steps.
Others are busy performing for the crowd.
But some, just a few,
are letting the music move them
in real time.

And those who witness them?

They’re moved.

Awakened.

They remember.

You don’t have to seek the spotlight.
When your movement is natural, the light finds you.

The world is tired of performance.
It’s hungry for presence.

So, keep dancing.

Just keep dancing.

— Nihan Sevinc