Once again, I am pouring my heart out at Five Minute Friday, where Kate Motaung inspires us to drop what we’re doing and write for five minutes. So what if it’s late? We have all week to link up!
This week’s word is reach. Immediately, I thought of my classical ballet training. The beautiful music of Giselle, Swan Lake, Nutcracker, and Don Quixote still touches me. I danced for eighteen years, loving classical ballet with everything in me. That’s how powerful dance was for me.
We tend to think that life is about the big moments. Triple pirouettes. A powerful grand jeté across the stage. The music rising to a dramatic crescendo, ending in a difficult lift executed with perfect timing to the cymbal crash.
These dramatic moments are important, but the story is told during the quiet, small moments in between.
The quiet, graceful port de bras, an extension of the breath.
Strong yet fluid arms in arabesque, reaching as the extended leg lifts.
The slight tilt of the head, eyes gazing past the fingers, lifting.
The stillness of a small gesture, the subtle positioning of the shoulders, the pause between movements. This is where the emotion is. This is how dance reaches me.
Over twenty years later, my ballet barre is my kitchen counter, my stage is my kitchen floor, and my audience is my children. They giggle as I perform for them. I cook breakfast standing in posé. My arabesque is no longer en láir (leg raised), but is just as beautiful a terre (on the ground). I balancé, balancé—down, up, up, down, up, up—from the fridge to the stove.
I can still reach my audience, but most importantly I can still reach that joyful place inside me that gets buried in the never-ending laundry and cooking. I will never stop reaching! I will never stop dancing!