Dancing
This summer I made the effort to get back to dance class.
I know I "dance" all the time--I perform burlesque frequently and go-go periodically--and I believe I'm considered one of the more dancy, and trained burlesque performers.
Still I consider myself a burlesque performer, not a dancer, in the sense of other dance disciplines. For years however, I was a dancer. That was probably my most clear sense of self-identity from age 14 to 20. By 18, when I went to college, I knew I would not be a professional dancer, but I still danced regularly and with intensity. And then I gave it up. I couldn't take enough classes to improve, and watching myself get worse in something I loved so incredibly much was just too painful. Class became something not joyful. To be honest it became that even when I was in High School, because I wanted to be so much more than I was capable of, and the disconnect between my dreams and my physically capabilities was heartbreaking. I wanted to be a professional dancer more than I think I have ever wanted anything. And it was not possible. After I quit I didn't dance at all for several years, and even stopped going to the ballet for a while because watching it caused me so much pain.
As time went by I found other identities for myself, identities that I am proud of, and reflect who and what I am now. But part of me always feels like a dancer, except that my body doesn't. It remembers. I still have muscle memory of various steps, but I don't feel like a dancer inside my skin. When people compliment my dancing in burlesque numbers I am proud, and pleased, but I also feel like a bit of a fraud. Bodies are capable of so much more than mine, and mine could be capable of much more than it is.
This summer I have been working on self-improvement. Not in a cheesy "self-help" sort of way, but trying to act in ways to increase my happiness. It isn't an easy process. I've had to think hard about what I need, what I want, what makes me who I am, what upsets me and causes me more harm than good. It isn't a straight path forward. Trying to make myself happier means I have to face the things that make me feel worse, and that isn't something I *want* to do, but I have to do it or there is no way forward. This blog is a part of that. I want to express who I am, even if no one reads it. Writing makes things clear, concrete. It helps me to realize things about myself and understand what must change, and what must be enhanced.
It was in a chat with a friend that I started to realize what dance means to me, not because he knows anything about dance, but because I finally put pen to paper (so to speak) and began to think about how I feel about dance, and how important it is to me still, at a not inconsiderable distance from when I was dancing seriously.
I have started taking classes again: Ballet, tango and belly dance. The latter two both new disciplines for me. And I love it. I've periodically taken ballet classes over the last few years, but I now have a teacher who understands me and encourages me and, most of all, inspires me to improve. This makes me want to take classes, and I can feel my body responding. It is still hard work, ballet always is. But I'm starting to get to a place where I can feel joy in the movement again. I feel proud of what I am accomplishing. And belly dance has opened up a whole new world. I'm not very good, I'm still a beginner. But I look forward to class, and want to take more and more. And I have been.
I am starting to feel like a dancer again, physically as well as mentally. And reintegrating those aspects has made me feel more myself. Classes may be hard, but they inspire me to be more, to do more. I don't know if it will help my burlesque, though I can't see how it could hurt. But ultimately that is besides the point. The dancing itself is its own reward; a striving for self improvement where I can see and feel the results of my action. And that is a beautiful thing.
I know I "dance" all the time--I perform burlesque frequently and go-go periodically--and I believe I'm considered one of the more dancy, and trained burlesque performers.
Still I consider myself a burlesque performer, not a dancer, in the sense of other dance disciplines. For years however, I was a dancer. That was probably my most clear sense of self-identity from age 14 to 20. By 18, when I went to college, I knew I would not be a professional dancer, but I still danced regularly and with intensity. And then I gave it up. I couldn't take enough classes to improve, and watching myself get worse in something I loved so incredibly much was just too painful. Class became something not joyful. To be honest it became that even when I was in High School, because I wanted to be so much more than I was capable of, and the disconnect between my dreams and my physically capabilities was heartbreaking. I wanted to be a professional dancer more than I think I have ever wanted anything. And it was not possible. After I quit I didn't dance at all for several years, and even stopped going to the ballet for a while because watching it caused me so much pain.
As time went by I found other identities for myself, identities that I am proud of, and reflect who and what I am now. But part of me always feels like a dancer, except that my body doesn't. It remembers. I still have muscle memory of various steps, but I don't feel like a dancer inside my skin. When people compliment my dancing in burlesque numbers I am proud, and pleased, but I also feel like a bit of a fraud. Bodies are capable of so much more than mine, and mine could be capable of much more than it is.
This summer I have been working on self-improvement. Not in a cheesy "self-help" sort of way, but trying to act in ways to increase my happiness. It isn't an easy process. I've had to think hard about what I need, what I want, what makes me who I am, what upsets me and causes me more harm than good. It isn't a straight path forward. Trying to make myself happier means I have to face the things that make me feel worse, and that isn't something I *want* to do, but I have to do it or there is no way forward. This blog is a part of that. I want to express who I am, even if no one reads it. Writing makes things clear, concrete. It helps me to realize things about myself and understand what must change, and what must be enhanced.
It was in a chat with a friend that I started to realize what dance means to me, not because he knows anything about dance, but because I finally put pen to paper (so to speak) and began to think about how I feel about dance, and how important it is to me still, at a not inconsiderable distance from when I was dancing seriously.
I have started taking classes again: Ballet, tango and belly dance. The latter two both new disciplines for me. And I love it. I've periodically taken ballet classes over the last few years, but I now have a teacher who understands me and encourages me and, most of all, inspires me to improve. This makes me want to take classes, and I can feel my body responding. It is still hard work, ballet always is. But I'm starting to get to a place where I can feel joy in the movement again. I feel proud of what I am accomplishing. And belly dance has opened up a whole new world. I'm not very good, I'm still a beginner. But I look forward to class, and want to take more and more. And I have been.
I am starting to feel like a dancer again, physically as well as mentally. And reintegrating those aspects has made me feel more myself. Classes may be hard, but they inspire me to be more, to do more. I don't know if it will help my burlesque, though I can't see how it could hurt. But ultimately that is besides the point. The dancing itself is its own reward; a striving for self improvement where I can see and feel the results of my action. And that is a beautiful thing.
Labels: ballet, bellydance, dance, tango
posted by Delirium Tremens at 8:48 PM
2 Comments:
(See, SOMEONE reads MySpace bulletins!)
Where are you taking ballet? I was just telling a co-worker the other day that I wish my ankle would, you know, bend like it should, because I would like to take up ballet again. I mean, besides the fact that I'll have to lose more weight to remotely feel comfortable in a class again, I'm just more concerned that there are no laid-back classes out there for dopes like me who now need to modify everything.
i take at peridance, with annabella lenzu. she's amazing and fun. It isn't easy but you do feel like you are working towards something when she teaches you. On an unrelated note, typing with fake nails on is a BITCH!
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