Born Again Dancer

Exactly one year ago today I began reclaiming my dancer's soul . I honor this day as a wonderful birthday of sorts, because the decision to dance again changed my life. (Dancing -- or not -- has always brought change.) When I left my first class a year ago, I was wobbly and inspired . I was frustrated, too, because it was clear that I had a lot to work on. I decided to give it a year. I pledged to pass no judgment on myself for a year. I would not critique myself, I would simply show up, do the work and see what happened. I would strive to give myself unconditional acceptance, in part because it was offered to me by strangers -- two men who became my teachers and 100+ classes later, also have become my friends. Silencing my inner critic is no easy task. It was really important to have reinforcements in that battle. I persisted, and a lot happened in a year. 125+ hours of class and rehearsals. 2 musical theatre workshops. 2 new pairs of dance shoes. 1 recital in a red dress . 1 bl...

On Wednesday I did something that made me absolutely giddy: I rented a dance studio for one hour, all to myself. Luxury, I know. I prepared my iPod with a playlist of music from my favorite class and showed up 30 minutes early to relax and contemplate my opportunity. After a strong warmup, I had 25 minutes to "play." Being alone in a dance studio had a slight "blank page" effect on me. Where to start? What to do? What will come out? One of my classmates encouraged me last month to have this "alone time" to dance. She assured me that I would know what to do. And I did figure it out, piecing together some turn combinations and then dancing a handful of pieces that I have learned in class. My nifty brain, loaded with memory and logic, figured it out. Afterward, it occurred to me that my body knows a lot, too. But my brain is a persistent, dominant force in my dancing right now. It is time to get it out of the way. It may not be easy. I realized this two mo...

I've loved words as long as I've loved dance, so marrying these loves seems natural in this blog. But my Virgo, perfectionist self would like to offer a disclaimer. I pledge this blog will improve. Which means, it won't be all about me (at least I'll try). Four years ago, when my daughters were infants/toddlers, "mommy blogs" were REALLY taking off. Friends said to me "You should start a blog." My reply: "I'm not self-absorbed enough to amuse anyone with a blog." (Especially about controversies like natural childbirth, bottle or breast, co-sleeping or crib...YAWN.) (And I tried to blog about work. Good night, I got bored fast. That blog effort is around here somewhere ... don't bother, it's boring. I'd delete it but ... well, okay, I'll delete it.) Some very supportive friends are following my new hobby, and I appreciate that they would take even 10 seconds out of their days to read my cheaper-than-therapy journal. Yo...

Sunday evening, May 31, is the occasion for The Red Dress. At Nancy's dance recital, we perform to Benny Goodman Orchestra's famous song "Sing Sing Sing." It's iconic, immensely danceable -- pulsing and fast. According to my dance teacher, Danny Herman, at one point "Sing Sing Sing" was in three different Broadway shows at the same time. To me that affirms its popularity as a Show-Stopping Big Dance Number and its place in the Grammy Hall of Fame. Which I guess is why we get to "close the show" with it -- it's a big sweaty mess of a dance. (I realize that an actual PHOTO of The Red Dress would be appropriate at this point, but I'm not there yet. Sorry.) Being in a dance recital at age 38 was sort of strange. All these adorable little kids -- mostly girls -- are running around in white and blue sequined tutus, sparkly leotards, exotic jewel-toned scarf ensembles. All ages of females changing their costumes in a big, makeshift community d...

“Mommy, is that dress for ME? Or for YOU?” That’s what my 6YO said the last week in May, when I held up a sparkly, red spaghetti strap costume loaned to me as a “guest performer” in a dance recital produced by my friend Nancy. My daughter has played in an old wardrobe box from the attic, full of flapper fringe, tutus, sequins and tails, all of my dance recital costumes from 20+ years ago -- which are now her dress-up clothes. Naturally, that kind of “ razzle -dazzle” red dress must be for her. Right? Like Mother’s Day and the Byron Nelson Golf Tournament, dance recitals were a perennial part of The Month of May when I was young. I got to wear pretty costumes, put on light green eyeshadow, pink lipstick and boogie to “Another One Bites The Dust,” “Boy from New York City,” “Greased Lightning,” or that perennial favorite, “ Puttin ’ on the Ritz.” As young as age 7, I remember whiling away afternoons in the basement of SMU ’s McFarlin Auditorium or the halls of a local high school...

From the witty and wise author and coach, Martha Beck, in her book Finding Your North Star. "Rule 1: If it brings you joy, do it." "Rule 2: No, really. If it brings you joy, do it." That advice sums up the 10 months between August 2008 -- when I took my first class at Ballet Austin -- and May 2009, when I danced in three workshop performances and one studio recital. Putting the joy of dance into my life became a significant resource for managing anxiety that has lived in my body for many years. In the last 10 months, life has happened as usual with its numerous joys and milestones (our wedding anniversary, my daughters' birthdays, the start of kindergarten); and grievous loss (the death of my best friend's newborn daughter, Lily Christine, who touched my soul in ways I never could have imagined; and the passing of my paternal grandmother, age 97). It also has presented new opportunities/challenges (I decided to form a business with a partner). This new thr...

So that first class -- the one where I didn't cry, hooray -- was like sucking in a huge lungful of oxygen after being in an airless environment. I was left gasping -- literally and figuratively. But it sure fed the fantasy I'd been having for the six weeks leading up to that day, as I watched all the students learn Broadway numbers. After the 35 minute choreographed warm-up, our teacher said "Okay, how about Hot Honey Rag?" This number, from the musical Chicago and choreographer Bob Fosse, is all about style and attitude. It's not especially difficult, and everyone looks great doing it. Which is not to say it is EASY. But you decide. Here's one of my favorite performances of this number. Right after "All That Jazz." After that night, my need to go back to class was as potent as my love for my family. I couldn't imagine life without it. Now that I knew what I was missing...I couldn't miss it, anymore.