This
Friday, February 6, 2009
There are days when I show up at the dance studio for a lesson certain that I'm headed for disaster. My brain is locked, my limbs are ice, I can't distinguish left from right, and honest to goodness, I think to myself, Jean (vested with the responsibility of teaching me, poor thing) is going to kill me. I apologize in advance for the coming catastrophics, and then I beg for mercy. I mean, the guy and his gorgeous wife, Iryna, are on the cusp of huge ballroom dance fame. Can you imagine how much it hurts his head to return, with me, to the basics?
Yesterday Jean took one look at me and said the following words: "Let's not worry about teaching today. Let's just listen to the music and dance." A waltz was on. Jean (the world's greatest mimic) pantomimed a bird. And then my head was arced back and we were dancing. Two false starts, but the third time there it was—the glide and air that I go to dance to find, the float that I'm perpetually seeking.
"What are your goals in dance?" Jean had asked me two weeks before, and I should have said, This. This ageless, timeless, everness. This gift of release from myself.
4 comments:
Beautiful, beautiful. And what a perfect goal to have
I have no doubt you are a delightful student.
XO
Anna
Sounds like a fantastic life experience. And I think you're being a bit hard on yourself. :)
I would love this. Hmmmm....
I bet you are a terrific dancer since gliding and air came so naturally on the ice.
Oh, well, I don't know about being a terrific dancer, dear Sherry. Perhaps a committed one. And a delightful student? We'll have to ask Jean. I bet he wishes he didn't have to talk at all—that he could just lead and I'd seamlessly follow. That's the goal. Sometimes I'm nearly there (for about thirty seconds). PJ — I am just me. Seeing me as I see me. (what a drag)
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