What a Child's Dance Taught Me About Oneness and Belonging

My wife and I sat in our rickety lawn chairs behind the elementary school this morning, watching our children perform their end-of-year dances with their grade levels. It was a delightful display—not of flawless technique, but of the pure joy of childhood expressed through music and movement.

While my daughter danced with her fourth-grade class, my attention was drawn to a young girl who stood out from the others. She looked like she was transported directly from a foreign country, dressed in clothing that reflected her culture and heritage. That’s not what made her noticeable though.

As the children around her moved in synchronized rhythm, she seemed lost and unsure throughout the entire song. Her face maintained a calm but uncertain expression as she continually watched her classmates, trying to keep up with what they were doing. At times, she was able to move her arms and legs in rhythm with them. Other moments, she just stood and watched.

My heart went out to her.

I’ve felt that way before. I guess I’ll say, the little boy in me knows that feeling very well—a tense awareness of being entirely out of step with everyone around you. The chest-compressing fear of sticking out, being perceived as different, and not measuring up.

As I watched her, I found myself reflecting on the deeper meaning of oneness.

Because she didn’t know the dance in her heart, the best she could do in those moments was to imitate or mimic others.

But oneness is not the same thing as mimicry.

Experientially speaking, simply following along, conforming, or keeping pace with others has more to do with sameness than true oneness.

The primary residence of oneness is the heart. It is found there before it manifests among a team, group, or community. Oneness flows from a grounded, inner place of knowing, peace, and belonging.

It has more to do with how you feel within yourself than how well you act in concert with anything outside. Oneness emerges naturally from who we are rather than from anxious attempts to become what we think we must be, or do what we think we must do.

I’ve noticed in my own life that when I feel lost, much of my attention turns outward. I become preoccupied with how I’m being perceived, making sure I’m doing what I’m expected to do, and whether I’m keeping up. But the more consumed I become with searching outside myself for security, approval, or control, the further I move away from that inner place of peace. I’m moving away from oneness.

In other words, I’ve left home. And the further I wander from that inner home, the more vulnerable I become to insecurity, anxiousness, worry, and fear.

Returning home—which is the healing process—allows us to become rooted again in what is deepest and truest within us. We find in our relationship with God, in truth, in peace, and in the quiet confidence that we do not earn our worth through performance.

Ironically, when we become centered within ourselves in that way, it becomes much easier to move harmoniously with others. We no longer have to anxiously imitate the dance around us. We can even interlock arms as we participate freely, sincerely, and joyfully.

That, to me, is the true meaning of oneness.

My heart still goes out to that young girl. I don’t know her story, and perhaps I interpreted more into the moment than was truly there. But I’m grateful for what her presence awakened in me today—a reminder that many people quietly carry the feeling of being out of step with the world around them.

And perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can offer each other is not pressure to conform, but the kind of love and belonging that helps people feel at home within themselves.

(To protect the privacy of the children, the image accompanying this post is an illustrated recreation of the original moment.)