It's another gloomy day in north-central Minnesota and it appears my imagination has gained control of my thinking. I have been imagining that inside me is a ballerina, forty years younger and she's wearing a silvery tutu with a garland of flowers trailing from her waist (pardon me while I wipe these tears of laughter from my eyes). It does not matter one whit that I have never been a dancer. Well, nothing classical, that is.
Oh, yeah, I played around with modern dance back in college, wore my black leotard with bare feet and a fair amount of sincerity, now mixed with a smidgen of embarrassment that I might have actually thought that was a good idea. I looked okay in the leotard, and I liked the graceful movements, but pretending to be someone I was not was always an uncomfortable experience. So, a few weeks before the performance, I took my bows early and, as gracefully as I could, made my exit, made way for someone else to fill that spot who might actually have a chance of convincing herself she fit in with that little avant garde group.
This whole train of thought arrived via images of paintings by Degas I'd been looking at online, where I found myself again drawn to his dancers. I used to have one on my sidebar that I particularly liked. I also have a tin with a Degas image on its cover that once contained Stollwerck chocolates. I now use it for mending items such as needles and thread, and a few other miscellaneous objects that got placed inside and still reside there.
To wit: a small orange jewelry box that once contained a pair of blue moonstone earrings set in sterling silver, that the owners of the art gallery in Santa Fe gifted me with one evening as we were having dinner at Santacafe. I also have the matchbook of that particular cafe with a note on the inside cover reminding me of that fine evening, October 24, 2007.
But, back to the imaginary ballet going on in my head. It's not about the tutu, it's about The Dance. This crazy life seems to be always encouraging me to walk away from the wall and just dance. Because even when I'm sure I don't want to, without fail, once I get out on the floor it becomes easier. I just have to remember to stop trying to figure out all the steps in advance, stop trying to wrest control, and just let Life lead me. It knows what steps would be best for me, and it seems to have had infinite patience with my missteps.
Now, once again, we've paused together, Life and I, listened for the musical cue and entered back into the dance, perfectly in step, perfectly in time. Because none of us came into this world to be wallflowers, we came to dance. Every One of Us.
All images are Edgar Degas paintings.
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ---Friedrich Nietzsche
ReplyDeleteI Love that quote! Thank you! I thought you might arrive with a Pinky and the Brain story about their quest for a pink tutu at two in the morning. What a delightful surprise!
DeleteYou have reminded me that I did something very similar in college. My roommate and I were going to choreograph a modern dance for our dorm's entry into a campus talent show. Wisely, we withdrew and let others take over. I love to watch dance, but the Graceful One who inhabits my imagination is an ice dancer.
ReplyDeleteOh, yes, ice dancing has not escaped my imagination, either. When I was a young girl, practicing figure 8's on the pond in front of our home, all sorts of faux trophies were awarded.
DeleteLovely images. I saw some original Degas pastels recently and it was great to see them close up and realise he'd actually touched them.
ReplyDeleteI have never been able to dance and I think the reason probably is that I try to work it all out in advance. Of course, as you say, that's the wrong approach, both for dance and for life.
Seeing those pastels must have been wonderful, Jenny! Whenever I see original work, that's what runs through my mind. Their hand touched them, created them. It's an amazing thing to experience.
DeleteLetting go and surrendering to the dance itself is something I'm learning to do as I go along.:)
I like the way you compare life to a dance and the ballet dancer in your head. I wonder what other folk have in their heads? I was only thinking today that in my next life I might like to be a dancer, it must be so liberating and one must always feel 'fit' with all the exercise. And music too......
ReplyDeleteHi Cait! It would be a very demanding life, too. I'm not sure I have the discipline required. But it's fun to imagine I do. And the dance itself is what would be so very liberating, as you say.
DeleteThe quote about "Dance like nobody is watching" speaks to me, since I have had times in my life when I was doing just that, and nobody was watching. Your inner ballet dancer is trying to come out, Teresa. Maybe if you slipped into that tutu and danced, she would tell you some secrets... :-)
ReplyDeleteNo tutu, that ship has sailed, but I am learning to be a better listener. :) Thanks, Jan.
DeleteHej Teresa, such a charming post. And I love those beautiful and graceful Degas dancers. Can't you just see him sitting there sketching those pretty girls and their fine skirts. I love the pink ones too.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was very young I went to classical ballet and modern dance! Well, that's many years ago Teresa. I think it's a good thing to have an inner ballet dancer.......
Grethe `)
The ballet shoes hurt like hell.........
Yes, the inner dancer can make all the difference.
DeleteI've heard they're less than comfortable.... :)
We did a modern dance for the girls in gym class (if they had included boys I never would have done what I did). Supposed to pick a record (2-3 minutes) and I did the 9 minute version of Eleanor Rigby by Vanilla Fudge. I took off my glasses (terribly nearsighted) so I couldn't see anything but a blur of blue gym suits and it was the only time in my life that I danced like nobody was watching...in front of anybody else. ;) Got an A+ and at the 30 year reunion a girl still cornered me and remembered how my dance had made her cry and she still thought about it. You never know how something you do or say might affect someone else. Strange the terrifying things that can end up being high points in your life--LOL!
ReplyDeleteI Love that you shared that here. Thank you, Rita! How wonderful to create that moment for someone else! Your dance met a real need, and that's amazing! Mine has not. ;) Yet, but time will tell.... :)
DeleteDance to the music of time, be true to yourself and dance the steps life is teaching you.
ReplyDeletePictures might remind us, but let life inspire us.
Yes, Friko, let life inspire us! My best thoughts are with you as you adjust to life without your beloved Benno.
DeleteAh, my brief ballet career ended when I quit before my first recital! It was not half as much fun as learning to hula with some Tahitian friends after a luau at their home. Now that was some dancing! I know, not really your point, but those are the memories!
ReplyDeletewell, Tahitian friends and the hulu sounds pretty darn fun. And that's exactly the point! :)
DeleteDear Teresa, thank you for this posting. It so speaks to me and to where I am now within myself. Speaks so forcibly of letting go and letting the Universe open itself for me. Your last paragraph is one that I plan to copy and paste and then print. It's wisdom enlightens me. Peace.
ReplyDeleteDee, My life is an ongoing attempt to let go and let the Universe reveal itself to me. I'm so glad that paragraph spoke to you and you felt it worth saving. Thank you, Dee.
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