We Dance.

Today I went to an injured dancer’s support group. It was one of the most heart-wrenching experiences I have had. Which sounds dramatic. But to hear these peoples’ stories, just begining of them really, was so very touching. Their obvious love for dance. It cracked me open. The first rule of this group is confidentiality. So I can’t tell you about anyone else of course. But I can tell you about my experience. 

The first question was “What is your relationship to dance?”

That was it. 

I was cracked open. 

Out poured the pain I didn’t know was still there. 

What is my relationship to dance? If you had asked me this question in high school I would have said “What is my relationship to air? I cannot survive without it.” Very dramatic of course. But it was my truth. And then I had to survive without it. I had it taken away from me. Just for a time- less than a year. But it felt like an eternity. I told my mom “I don’t know how to cope with things- with life- when I can’t dance.” I remember her response clear as if it were yesterday. “You’re going to have to learn.” My mama; so honest, so strong. And she knew I was strong too or she wouldn’t have said it to me like that. 

I remember in the third grade arguing with a boy about sports and winning things. Like you do. Lets call him Sheldon. His name was not Sheldon I remember exactly what his name was. But I don’t want to write it because we’re classy here. And he’s grown into a very kind man I think. I believe I was trying to convince him that dance was the hardest sport of all, pointing out the even football players would take ballet class to improve their skill and ability. His closing statement was something like “Yeah but like… why would you dance? What is the point?” His argument was that no one got to “win” in dance. There was no competition. No game. What was the point? I’m pretty sure this sent me on a life-long quest of figuring out “What is the point” of dance. And all art for that matter. And I think it took me until about three years ago to articulate it. But my heart knew it all along. I just couldn’t explain it to someone else who just… wanted to win something. 

Being in the room with those people in the support group, I found a common understanding that I had not met before. These people who spent their lives breathing dance; using their whole existence to express through this art form that lets people see into realms that we can only dream of. These people who have dedicated their lives to allowing their whole body to become vulnerable in order to tell a story. These people who have trained countless hours in order to build the strength to be able to express that vulnerability. 

I had to learn a long time ago that my identity is more than a dancer. It’s more than a dancer in the performance industry, but more importantly as a human being on this Earth. But what a painful thing to go through. I know I am not the only one who has experienced this. Experienced the stripping away of your identity and then needing to figure out who you are under that thing that you had clung to. That title that you wore proudly. Being in this group and being asked to talk about my relationship to dance… how do I say it? How do I explain this in words? I think the only thing that could really explain it is… dance. Somehow I said some words and explained what I could. 

Just before my senior year of high school was my first hip surgery and the first time I learned that maybe I would have to learn about life without dance. Again, I know, so dramatic. But lets be real who wasn’t in high school? (Let’s be real I’m still that dramatic). Having this thing ripped away from you, and then slowly given back to you, and then ripped away again. And then one more time. And then after years, after you have let go of the thing, it slowly, slowly comes back to you. And you try to regain this title. This title of “dancer”. But you aren’t quite sure if you live up to what you should be. And you aren’t quite sure if you should hold onto this title too tightly…. just in case. But you want it. You want to be what you always dreamed of so you work to get there. But you are reaching so desperately for the title that it just keeps slipping away from you. Because you can’t quite hold a thing with peace and poise when you are desperate for it. And then. You are injured again. And it hurts. But you know you are more than just the dance. You have been here before. So you re-focus. And life keeps going. Because after-all, dance is not actually the air that keeps you alive. Although it did feel like it at one point. And yet… all of a sudden you are reminded of how deeply you let yourself love it at that one point. And then you’re asked what dance means to you. And your heart breaks open. 

Love the things you love. Rejoice in the freedoms of your body. And know that you are so much more than your body. 

Some Extras:

I was getting in an elevator today coming up from the subway. The woman with me turned around and said “When you’re done with your crutches make sure to donate them to a homeless shelter. You’d be surprised how many people need them.” I thanked her for that advice. Wow. I never would have thought of that. You see? This is a city that takes care of each other.

 

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This past week my roommate Annie and I took a 24-hour trip to Florida to surprise our third roommate, Josh, during his contract of “West Side Story”. He was freaking amazing. The show was amazing. It was all amazing. He was very surprised. I also realized this is the fourth time since starting my blog that I have planned or been involved in surprising someone. …..What’s up with that. I guess I am obsessed with surprising people…not sure what that says with me. Perhaps I am very power hungry and surprising people is how I get my kicks. 

“Some people keep returning to their vomit and you don’t have to be there when they do.”-Rob Bell 

I felt compelled to share this quote with you this week from one of my favorite speakers ever. You can find him on his podcast, The Robcast.

Does anyone have suggestions for cute comfortable shoes? My future involves comfortable, supportive shoes with no heal. At all. So let a girl know if you’ve got any tips! 😍. Leave me a comment below!

I am trying to figure out if oat milk is gluten free…. I can’t quite grasp it…. The internet told me this today: “It’s also ideal for those with dietary restrictions or allergies, as it’s naturally free of dairy, lactose, soy, nuts and gluten — as oats are naturally gluten–free.” Ahhhhh. How do I teach the internet that all oats are not gluten free?! And how do I figure out if oat milk is gluten free? #guessimabasicbitch #firstworldproblems #powerhungry. 

This is my friend Alex. No it is not an lusion he is actually taller than me. If it weren’t for this guy I would pretty much never go to restaurants. Thank you Alex for reminding me this city has got the best food in the world!!!