Music reminded me this week that I’m becoming vintage.
It happened while I was preparing my first batch of Word Art for the Mundancing platform. As I signed, numbered, and packaged the words I had written into sun and moon images, Neil Diamond’s Play Me looped in my mind. I finally surrendered to Spotify, pressing play so I could shimmy along: “You are the sun, I am the moon.”
Influenced by Love
That song opened the door to the entire Hot August Night album. In an instant, I was back in 1972, dancing with Mandy—my grandmother, then 49. She was mature yet luminous. I was twelve, pure lightness.
Just because someone—or something—has become vintage doesn’t mean they’re out of step.
Mandy’s favorites then were Neil Diamond and Rod Stewart. Her love of music was matched by her love of movement. A formally trained dancer, she passed down to me something deeper than technique: an unspoken permission to move whenever music called.
So what began as a single nostalgic song became a full-bodied obsession with Cherry Cherry. I’ve been playing it on repeat all week—while cooking, tidying up, or getting ready for the day—dancing agelessly and realizing that I, like the music, am becoming vintage.
And this is what Mundancing is: dancing with presence, love, and joy right into the fabric of the everyday.
Back in 1972, Cherry Cherry wasn’t my favorite track—Shilo was. An only child, I knew the comfort of invisible friends. But I also had Mandy, my very real companion, whenever I could be by her side.
Ahh, Mandy. Today I dance for both of us. I usually feel you in my heart. Today, I feel you in my hips.
Becoming Vintage Like Our Favorite Songs
It’s not about fading away—it’s about returning to the music, the moments, and the movements that keep us timeless.
Want to bring more presence, love, and joy into your day? Find that long-lost song or album. Press play. Let it rekindle the best of who you were and still are. That, too, is becoming vintage.
In the end, becoming vintage isn’t about the years we’ve lived—it’s about the songs that still make us dance like time has never touched us.
~ ✦ ~
P.S. Though Hot August Night was released in 1973, Mandy and I had already been swaying to those songs the year before Neil Diamond sang them at the Greek Theatre beneath the open night sky. The live versions held a charge—an unrepeatable electricity—that the studio could not quite bottle. Yet even before that magic was captured on tape, the music had found us. And once it found us, it never let go.
Perhaps your once-favorite artists and songs are still out there, waiting to surprise you—tucked inside a live recording, a remix, or a version you’ve never heard. Seek them out. Let them carry you back and forward all at once.
~ ✦ ~
You Are Invited:
The Mundancing Shop is open at last. Twelve of my Word Art drawings are waiting to be seen, felt, and framed. Each one holds a whisper of truth and the shape of something sacred. Come visit. Come choose what speaks to your soul.