Born Again Dancer

"How are you laurabondwilliams ?" my dance teacher asked me before class one day. "Busy," I said, knowing and owning how lame that sounds . "Busy" because most weeks I am engaged in four primary activities: dancing, working, parenting and driving (noticeably absent: cooking, house cleaning, organic gardening). So I collect my thoughts in the spaces in between the busy- ness ; sometimes writing short emails or dutiful (but woefully erratic) morning pages. One good thing about busy- ness is that I am not treating my writing so preciously. With that in mind, I'm sharing some thoughts that need to be aired. For two years now, I've been having thoughtful conversations with adult dancers or others who want to be. I've taken over 200 hours of dance classes from more than a dozen teachers in three cities. I have talked to professional dancers, retired dancers, brand new dancers and born-again dancers. For those who are not dancing and say that you...

It's exactly what you think it'd look like, if you're the kind of person who thinks about these things. That is, a fifth floor dance studio on Manhattan's Upper West Side, four stories above a grocery store at 74th Street and Broadway. Like me, if you ' re the kind of person who thinks about these things, then you aren ' t surprised by the two large, painted metal poles that split the center of the studio to support the floor above. (Ah! It looks just like ["insert favorite dance movie here"]!) You may think that these buildings conceal few feats of 20th century engineering. Poles in the middle of the room! Radiators lining the back wall. You may feel the January chill coming through the windows' panes as you drop your makeshift "dance bag" of shoes and street clothes on the floor in front of the radiator. If you ' re the kind of person who thinks about these things, then you may wonder if anyone has ever collided with one of those f...

Like the 5-year-old girls in blue leotards and pink tights who jostle in the hallways, trying to be first in line for their dance class, my dancing experiences jostle for position in my writing. Me first, they say to me. Write about that humbling dance class in New York , where you had to learn a routine four counts at time just to keep up. Write about that crisis of ego before your performance in May. And hey, isn ’t it time to reflect on the class that you fled, weeping, last year? That was big. Joy, ego, humility, emotions, breakthroughs, breakdowns. Like the outstretched hands reaching for the balcony in A Chorus Line’s opening number, the Jazz Combination , my thoughts and themes plead: Pick me. Personally, I have been reflecting on my return to dance because my born-again dancer anniversary passed at end of July. Two years since I stepped into a class that I was longing to take but deeply feared. Two years of change -- physical, emotional and spiritual changes that are tedio...

In class, while Rocker moves us through a warm-up routine that’s become as familiar as brushing my teeth, he’s chatty and observant as he shapes dancers with thoughtful, constructive criticism. But after a few margaritas, he’s disarmingly forthright. At a corner table in the noisy bar one Saturday afternoon, this lean, balletic man with broad shoulders, high cheekbones and tawny skin, his chocolate brown eyes framed by long, dark eyelashes, leaned toward me. In a few words, he answered a question of mine that I hadn’t dared to ask anyone because I thought it rhetorical -- and somewhat self-absorbed. Yet answers sometimes arrive unexpectedly. Or not. Because, I’ve been asking the question -- if not out loud -- for nearly 18 months since Rocker’s and Danny’s dancer magnetism lured me into their class . Over 200 studio hours later, I still thrive in their presence. I plugged myself into a whole new source of energy and self-esteem. They are undeniably my most influential teachers at this ...

You know, December really was a busy month. (I’ll pause for giggles, raised eyebrows or eye-rolling at my sweeping understatement.) Like most families, we fling ourselves into the holiday season at Thanksgiving and begin a four-week run of various celebrations, including two children’s birthdays in the first week of December. (Add two pre-Christmas family celebrations and a four-day road trip to Ohio and that explains why my holiday cards might arrive by Feb. 1). Back in September, I decided to add some mileage to this holiday marathon by joining the cast of “Holiday Road,” a musical theatre workshop produced by Ballet Austin’s community school . For 12 weeks, nearly 60 dancers, singers and actors rehearsed for two hours a week, culminating in two performances that were smack in the middle of the holiday season: Dec. 12 and 13. “Holiday Road,” written by Danny Herman and Rocker Verastique, tells the story of a family road trip from Austin, Texas, to Christmas, Mic...