thoughts – Another Night at the Barre

I intended to write this post last month, but after 3.5 years of avoiding it covid hit me. I did better than I expected with it, for which i’m incredibly grateful and recognize my privilege in that. I think the avoidance for so long helped me personally so it was more mutated by the time I actually got it, but I know for some people that doesn’t matter. what a difficult time to live in and navigate.

In the in between of Nutcracker and auditions for Spring Show, I didn’t see many people, but a few people came by for various things. One raffle prize winner has a granddaughter that dances with us. When she arrived to pick up her prize, we got into conversation about the productions and the discipline that goes into it as well as the magic. I asked if she had ever been in the studio, she said only to drop her granddaughter off. I offered her a tour which she gladly accepted.

From the foyer of our studio, you walk through a costume room with tutus and character dresses and rat heads hanging from the ceiling and carefully stacked. Many times the dancers walk passed it without a second thought, used to the sight of of the stacks of fabric they pass by week after week, some pausing to comment on what animal they were as 7 year olds or the seemingly endless years of villager roles, but most rushing past to the studio without a second thought.

This lady gasped; she was in complete awe of the vastness of it. I pointed out a few costumes from recent ballets, talked about the fire we had in the 1990s and showed some of the costumes that survived that we still use and which ones we got from Louisville Ballet after that have held up so well over the last 30 years of constant use with who knows how many years of use before that.

From there I walked her through the break room and showed her the studio. A room we are so familiar with its easy to forget how impressive it is. A converted warehouse, there’s a weight-bearing support structure in the middle of the front of the floor, one each dancer is all too familiar with avoiding while rehearsing and having to adjust to its absence when we’re on stage.

There’s a wall of thick cubed windows, made in a way you can’t see through them but allow a beautiful amount of natural light to come in, and a back wall of mirrors with curtains pulled back and tucked behind the barres when not in use. The lady was so impressed, speaking to how awe inspiring it was to see the place where we work in the lead up to performances. We talked about the process and how things translate from there to stage, seeing the light in her eyes bringing a smile to my face.

It truly is magic.

It’s easy to forget when it’s something you’re so closely involved in, something you’re so used to dedicating so much of your time to, something you experience so often. If we allow ourselves to take a step back and notice the magic flowing all around us, remember the first time we were involved, remember how we felt the first time we put on a tutu, remember our excitement with goals we achieved—remember the magic—we can bring a little bit of that with us and translate it onto the stage. Sometimes we need to take a step back and realize how incredibly lucky and privileged we are to be involved in something like this at all, and for us specifically at our studio to be under the tutelage of such a legendary teacher.

Of course, there will be downs along with the ups, and there is cause to feel and process the not-so-magical parts of this world. There’s disappointment and difficulty and long, long days. There are things completely out of our control and things that feel personal but aren’t, some I remember all too well (aye swifties) from my own experiences. However, the conclusion I came to is I dance for me. Ballet is what I make it. For some people, that includes a change of some form, a move, an adjustment, a program elsewhere than their home studio, a shake up in their routine. For others, it’s a mentality shift, a step back, a perspective change.

What you bring to ballet is your legacy to it. And if you bring your best, if you work hard, if you do it for you, that’s a beautiful legacy to leave, and you should be proud of yourself on that.

Today as I go back to the studio for rehearsals, sitting at my desk in the office and flitting back and forth from the studio for various tasks, i’ll choose to remember the magic, to hold the memories of the days when my body let me move freely close, and appreciate the privilege it is to have involvement still even with my limitations.

I’ve been thinking about Swan Lake.
Doing little conditioning things that are actually feasible for me and aren’t so overwhelming that I avoid them. Making certain choices that will help me in the long run. Releve-ing at work while I prep for tax season.
My goal is to be a Swan.
Not some watered down version of a Swan, but a real one.
I was a little anxious thinking about it, because I didn’t know if this was even a logical goal. What if it’s just the older girls, ya know? I know I’m not at their level yet. I’m on my way, but these things take time.

I was thinking about it in church this morning. About dance and why I do it and what it does for me.
I thought about how much easier life would be without the dance schedule. I immediately thought of how sad I would be not having said schedule. Dance makes me happy, it makes me feel alive.
Then I thought of how I’ve seemed to have more bad days than good lately. I thought of how reasonably it has been my body holding me back in one way or another. I thought of all the times I’ve panicked. I thought of the defeat I’ve felt.
I thought of Nutcracker, and how there were times I felt like I was just falling short. That I just barely wasn’t good enough for what my heart wanted. That the mark was just out of reach.
Then I thought of that last Sunday show; how everything seemed to align for me perfectly. I thought of how alive I felt. I didn’t think of how bad my feet hurt that day, or the fact that I was so sad the show was over, or my shoe falling off. I thought of how Rat Queen went the best it ever has. How I hit all the corrections Ms. Munro gave me and was able to grab the cannon ball in a stealth way to get it out of everyone’s way. I thought of Flowers and how I hit all the marks on that as well. I thought of Finale, and hitting the timing perfectly with the conductor. I thought of how I felt standing there, looking into the audience, the most alive I’ve ever felt.
And I wondered what the difference was. What made that day special? Was it the cape I got to wear? Or was it what having the cape made me feel?
That there was no pressure. That cape reminded me of how fun Nutcracker can be. That it’s not just about doing a series of moves and hoping not to fall, but it’s more than that. It’s about coming alive in ways that makes the audience feel something. Sure it’s awesome if you can do 32 fouette’s en pointe, but ya know what? That’s nothing if there’s no heart behind it. The difference is clear. You can be the most technical dancer with absolutely perfectly gorgeous lines, but if you’re hearts not in it, it falls flat.
(This is how it is for life in general, as well. Are you just passing the days, or are you truly living?)

As I was standing there, on the front row, God reminded me of how far I’ve come. He reminded me of what I felt when the idea of dancing ballet was just a longing–an unreachable goal. He reminded me of how much I’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time. Then He asked me, “By whose standards are you falling short?”
Oof.
It was then I realized that it was only by my standards that I wasn’t hitting the mark.
I know I’m never gonna be prima ballerina or anything remotely close. Even if my body could handle it, chances are life will cause me to back away from ballet as I know it now–it already has. The mark should always simply be to do the best I can and make the most of every day I get to dance. By all means, I shouldn’t even be able to. I’ve dodged many-a-bullet with how accident prone I seem to be, yet I can still dance.
God also reminded me of what fuels my passion–what the heart is behind my dancing. It’s not about gaining anything, it’s not about hitting a certain mark, it’s all about shining His light in my life. It’s about the freedom I feel which allows me to move and live and breathe. It’s not about me.

So whatever happens with auditions, whether I suck or succeed, I will be content in being able to participate at all. I will be happy because I am doing the very thing I love that seemed impossible not too long ago. I will remember what I felt before this was my reality.
I’ll channel those moments I find myself realizing that these are my pointe shoes and I dance in them. That this isn’t a dream or a fabricated, colorful mis-telling I’m trying to pass off as true. This is reality. This is me. This is what I get to do.

How freaking cool is that?