Ballet

~In life, as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet.

~Alice Abrams

Alright, I had a whole other blog post written. It was a fast one and maybe I'll post it on another day but today I want to talk about dance. It's long but there is so much more I could write...

When I was three years old my parents put me in ballet and tap-I don't know why but I will always be grateful for it. Over the years I went to four different studios and did tap, jazz, hip hop, and even gymnastics. But ballet was the only one I stuck with every year.

It was always my dream to get pointe shoes. They were beautiful and I wanted to be just like the older dancers at my studio. And I remember how excited I was that Saturday I got my first pair. We got them in the summer and it was a few weeks before we wore them in class-and every day I would get them out and look at them and try them on. Looking back, I was so young; I can't believe I had pointe shoes then.

When we started wearing them in class we were so excited! I was on pointe for five years. It was always exciting to be able to do something new on them or get farther over in my arch. But they were painful. There were days when we had several hours of class we knew we would be on pointe. Some days we would wear flats and hope our teacher didn't make us change.

Taping my toes was never particularly fun, though I liked that I could do it, that I knew what it was for... made me feel like those older dancers... My feet always hurt though. I had ingrown toenails, I developed a bunion, and I had tendonitis in my ankle. But it was worth it when I could dance in them, when I got better at one thing or another. And I guess I kind of got used to the pain, it gave me pleasure knowing I worked hard.

I love the feeling of being sore. It means I did something difficult, something that is strengthening me. I loved feeling my muscles stretch and the control I had over how I moved. My mom used to comment on how she thought I liked the strictness of ballet. I'd have to say I agree. I loved that there were certain places my arms and legs and head were supposed to be-on certain counts. And I knew the steps-especially barre exercises-so well I could let my mind focus on stretching and tightening and holding myself like a dancer.

When I was at school I always had dance moves running through my head. I would dance around the kitchen at home. It was never far from my mind. I never imagined doing anything else with my afternoons. Dance was always better than school or watching TV or anything else that may have occupied my time.

You know, I was never very good. And I'm not fishing for compliments or anything. I've seen video of myself dancing. I used to watch other girls in my company, amazed at how they danced. I wasn't flexible. Honestly, I never got down in my splits-it was humiliating when we sat in our splits because I was always the highest off the ground. I was never fully over my point shoes-despite stretching my ankles day and night during homework or watching TV. And I hated smiling-it always looked fake because I was focusing on dancing. I was fine smiling while performing-but not at myself in the mirror.

But I have to say I was always progressing-even slowly :)

I miss it-all the time. I try not to think about it really. I danced for 13 years. I was only going to dance through high school, but I hated quitting after my sophomore year. I'd always hated how some girls would just stop showing up, never come back. I didn't know how you did that. But I found out.

That summer after tenth grade I had a job at Custom Events-they put on carnavals. I loved that job. But one day, about a month and a half after I started, I hurt my knee. It was stupid really. I was working on hair coloring. We had a table set up and a box with many cans of paint in it (it's amazing how much paint you can go through in three hours). I was working with one other person and we'd set up a system. We had a bag for all the tickets the kids gave us that we had put in the box. I leaned down to put some tickets in and heard my knee pop twice. It moved left and then right and everything went white. I didn't feel well but I'm not one to complain so I kept working. I limped all over the feild that night picking up cones and rolling cords. My knee was swollen twice the size by the time I got home. I sat alone in my room that night and iced it and bawled. I knew then I wouldn't dance again.

I wore a brace to work the rest of that summer. I didn't go to the ballet summer program-in fact, I even babysat for my ballet teacher one of those days they had class. When September came I went back and forth with thinking I could try to dance to knowing it wasn't worth it. Not that dance wasn't worth it, but that it wasn't worth hurting my body so much. My knee still hurts sometimes.

That night it happened, I listened to my MP3 Player-listened to the song called If You Want Me To by Ginny Owens. Even now I believe there was a reason-though I'm not entirely sure what it was.

Ballet taught me a lot of things though-a lot of things I couldn't learn without it. There are the obvious things: it kept me in shape (something I really miss :) ) and it gave me an extracurricular activity. But I learned a lot about friendship too. There was a closeness in my company-something that comes from going through hours and hours of work together-sweat and blood-literally. I grew up with those girls-many of us spent all 13 years together. It was the kind of thing that came from being in something together. We were a team. Backstage is something that will always amaze me :) How we all helped each other get ready-sharing make-up and hairspray and bobby pins and lip stick. Making sure we had all our accessories and changing our hair scrunchies between dances. It was the joy when another dance class in the studio would win a competition or helping them clean their dance. It was the Saturday practices, the late nights, the long dress rehersals and playing 'Simon Says' in the hallways backstage. It was sprinting in tutus and pointe shoes because you almost miss your entrance and tip-toeing behind the backdrop during a performance. And I don't think enough words would ever give it justice.

I learned about discipline-but also how to have fun. I learned how to, not break the rules, but use them to my advantage-how to move in the correct positions and yet make a dance my own. I learned the value of repetition-even if sometimes it wasn't so fun. I learned all that went on in preperation for one night, one show. I may have gotten nervous backstage but when those lights were on me, when I danced on stage in front of a full auditorium, I felt alive.

I miss it-all of it. Even the painful parts and the steps and stretches I used to dread. I miss looking forward to it and getting lost in the music. I miss the girls-and find myself kind of jealous of those still back at Rocky Mountain Dance. I may have hated having to quit, but I will forever be grateful for those 13 years I was able to do ballet.