This evening I attended a swing dance in Northwest Arkansas, and my friend Matt was there. Matt’s a dance instructor in Springfield, and we danced together several times. One time I was the leader, but the other times I was the follower, and I was pretty much in heaven because I love to follow and don’t get a chance to do it very often. Right before the dance ended, Matt even lifted me up in the air a couple of times, and I felt like my little nephew because I kept saying, “Again, Again!”

I can’t exactly say when my fascination with following started. For the longest time, I taught followers at my studio, but wasn’t actually on the floor following on a consistent basis. But over the last few years, I’ve made it more of a priority, something to work on, something to actively seek out.

Having spent most of my time on the dance floor as a leader, I can say it’s often exhausting. Of course, everyone has a job to do, but the leaders have a lot of responsibilities, and they make a LOT of decisions—where to go, how to get there, what to do WHEN we get there. It’s like being a tourist guide, really. There’s always this low to high level of stress that sounds like, What’s next? What’s next? What’s next? Like I said—exhausting.

As the name implies, leading is a rather active thing. Following, however, is more passive. Followers have their responsibilities of course, but since the bulk of the decisions belong to the leader, followers often get to enjoy the ride a little bit more. There’s more listening on the follower’s side, and that means there’s more anticipation, a certain type of wonder about what’s going to happen. I think followers are also thinking, What’s next? What’s next? What’s next?, but rather than coming from a place of stress, their question comes from a place of excitement.

I admit I’m not the best follower. (However, a nice Australian woman with a delightful accent told me tonight that I was “a lovely lady dancer.” I’m pretty sure I blushed.) I’m so used to being in charge, it’s hard not to back-lead and try to take control. But when I can relax, it goes better, and it’s such a relief to get a break, to not have to be in charge or decide, to not have to know what’s going to happen next.

In the car this evening, I listened to a book by Ann Patchett called What now? The book was adapted from a commencement speech Ann gave at her alma mater, and it deals largely with the question we tend to ask when our lives are changing—What now? In terms of school and business, Ann says we often put a big emphasis on learning to lead, but that most of our lives is actually spent following, so it’s useful to learn to follow. As a writer, she says she spends most of her time listening, most of her time observing, most of her time staring at her computer screen, waiting for something to happen.

Up until tonight, I thought the whole leading and following thing applied mostly to the dance floor. That was context in which I knew it. But since listening to Ann’s book, I’ve been thinking about all the applications of leading and following OFF the dance floor. For example, I’m usually a “make shit happen” kind of person. I typically have a plan, work nonstop, and am ridiculously productive. In short, I’m used to being a leader.

But lately the biggest decision I’ve made has been whether to have waffles or pancakes for breakfast. And since I don’t have a job, I haven’t been working so much. And I guess I’ve been giving myself a hard time about that, but now I’m seeing that I’m getting a chance to be a follower. Sure, I could see that as scary, but I could also see it as exciting. Like, I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know how I’m going to get there, but there’s a certain type of wonder about all that, and it’s not as if I’m dancing alone here. There is a force, a momentum that dances with all of us, sometimes lifting us up in the air, sometimes bringing us back down in a great mystery of starts and stops. So I can relax and enjoy the ride for a while. I can be passive for a change. I can wake up each day with excitement and ask, What’s next? What’s next? What’s next?