The pleasure of pleasure

The very idea of hedonism, in its truest form, would be considered taboo in our North American culture. Pleasure being a part of true living rather than something that must be earned seems preposterous. And as I take in this new place that seems to thrive on this very idea as a daily activity, the notion of pleasure being a part of the whole rather than a reward outside of the whole has been bouncing around my brain for days.

A couple of days ago, as my feet, hips and hands took to the beats and rhythms of the drums at the Tam Tam's I came to truly understand pleasure as a way of being, without feeling riddled with guilt about the things I should be doing to ensure the highest rate of productivity in 24 hours. Much like a Catholic school girl would feel after spending the afternoon laying on her bed reading the proverbial romance novel bursting with explicit sex scenes.

On this particular day, I spent the morning and early afternoon in a deep, dream filled sleep after a long, lovely night with my sweet Montreal and walked over to Mont Royal Park with Brandie shortly after I opened my eyes to check out the Tam Tam's. This Sunday ritual is a little piece of heaven. People from all over the world, who now call Montreal home, converge in a small corner of the park to play music from sun up to sun down every Sunday during the summer months. It's a beautiful mix of people, young and old, men and women, rich and poor, white, black and every colour in between. This was my second time and surely will not be my last. I can already see that it is many of the same people that come each Sunday with a sprinkle of new faces to change the texture each week. 'This is my family,' I heard a young girl say as she took a break beating her drum.

Of course, when there is music playing, my body takes over. The shoes came off and I danced from three o'clock in the afternoon straight until the sun had gone down. I met so many beautiful people. A young man from Morocco, a lovely gent originally from Bangladesh who now has lived here for 15 years, a girl from a village in Saskatchewan who is moving to Spain next month. I danced with a one-legged pirate, was twirled and spun around the pavement in Latin style, sat with a young boy, 7 maybe, that played the drum like it was the only thing that could keep him alive.

As all this beauty was happening around me I remember thinking how wonderful it was that all these people, without a second thought, spend their Sunday's relishing in music. Whether it's being a part of the creation of the sound, moving their bodies to the beat or just sitting back and allowing all their senses be touched. These people weren't thinking about what needed to be done around the house, or what email needed to be sent first thing in the morning or how many hours they had been there. They were there for their own pleasure and to share in the collective desire to make music and enjoy it.

I had a feeling Montreal was going to be a great dancer. Nothing sexier than a man that can dance.