Middle-Aged Ballerina One Year Later

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To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking.—Agnes De Mille

Inspired after seeing a ballet at Versailles last Christmas, one year ago I donned ballet slippers and a chiffon skirt, and stepped into my first beginner class at The Washington Ballet.

As the pianist played and I attempted pirouettes and pliés, I felt something move deep inside of me (heh, Tim says it was me pulling a hammie). Here’s a post I wrote about my return. Since that first foray back into ballet, I’ve been going to classes a few times a week and grow more in love with the artistic dance in each practice.

I mean, let’s be honest, what’s not to love about pink skirts and slippers, a piano accompanist, feminine movement, and deep mental/physical challenge?

Although I still struggle each week in the very class where I began last year, I’ve observed slight progress. I’m more familiar with the terms, able to remember some of the barre combinations, and feel myself opening and expanding with each port de bras.

Merce Cunningham summed it up beautifully, “You have to love dancing to stick with it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive.”

Dance, be free, open wide, be a beginner, feel deeply, let go, move into who you are. Better yet, move into who you are while wearing a pink chiffon skirt. Bisous. x