One Man Dance Break on the Elliptical

A Blog in my Song Series

The Rhythm We’ve Lost

Inspired by Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation”

This morning, while I was working out, Rhythm Nation came on the 80s Pandora station; a song I’ve heard hundreds of times, but today it landed differently. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the world. Maybe it’s the way certain songs act like mirrors, showing you what you’ve been feeling but haven’t said out loud.

The song was written as a call for unity, for people to come together beyond race, class, and background. A vision of a world marching in step toward something better, something collective, something hopeful.

And yet here we are, decades later, feeling more divided than ever.

As I listened, I couldn’t help thinking about how much polarization, meanness, and flat-out narcissism seems to be baked into daily life now. People aren’t just disagreeing; they’re offended before the conversation even starts. Everyone’s on edge. Everyone’s bracing for attack. Everyone’s convinced they have to yell to be heard.

Some days it feels like kindness has gone out of style.

And it genuinely saddens me.

Because from where I stand, quietly, observing from the edges the way I always have, I don’t think people are as different as they pretend to be. I don’t think the world is split into good guys and bad guys. I don’t think we’re doomed to scream our way through every topic that used to just be… a discussion.

I think we’ve simply forgotten how to listen.

Listening is a rhythm.
A pace.
A willingness to breathe before reacting.
A softening.

It’s not glamorous. It won’t win an argument or go viral. But it’s the thing that keeps communities intact. It’s the thing that makes relationships real. It’s the thing that says, “I value understanding more than being right.”

Somewhere along the way, we traded listening for defending.
Understanding for assumptions.
Curiosity for outrage.

It’s like the world is walking out of sync and everyone dancing to their own beat but refusing to hear anyone else’s.

And despite how heavy it feels, I still believe we can find our rhythm again. Not in some grand national movement. Not in a hashtag. Not in a political slogan or a trending phrase.

But in small, quiet choices.

Choosing not to fire back when someone is sharp.
Choosing to ask a question instead of shutting down.
Choosing to consider, even for a moment, that someone’s different opinion might come from a life you’ve never lived.
Choosing to pause before reacting.
Choosing to show up softer than the world expects.

Rhythm Nation reminded me of something today: unity isn’t a performance. It’s a daily practice. A heart practice. One we desperately need to relearn.

I can’t fix the world.
You can’t fix the world.
But we can work on our corner of it: the conversations we’re in, the energy we bring, the way we treat strangers, the way we breathe through discomfort instead of swinging back.

We can create our own rhythm.
A calmer one.
A kinder one.
One that doesn’t require everyone to agree but only to be human.

And if enough of us choose that rhythm, quiet as it may be, it starts to spread.

And for what it’s worth… as all these deep thoughts were swirling, I was also tapping my foot, swaying my shoulders, and quietly pantomiming the lyrics like I was auditioning for the 1989 tour.

Apparently, unity begins with a one‑man dance break on the elliptical.