Monday, Nov. 29, 2004 - 9:42 p.m.

discipline is freedom

Today, Kira and I made a trip to Ellman’s, in Carytown, to buy her first pair of ballet slippers. It was a trip I knew I’d be making at some point or other, and it was a sweet, sweet hour.

Kira has been begging for ballet lessons for some weeks now, and has been dancing constantly around the house. When she started to do some steps I hadn’t taught her that were *actual* ballet steps, I knew the time was upon us for real lessons.

Today I made some calls, and Wednesday she will start pre-ballet at a local studio. I am thrilled, and so is she.

Going to the dance supplies shop was an interesting experience for me. I haven’t had a need for dance shoes or tights or anything like that for at least twelve or so years. It was impressive to see how many advances and differences there were in terms of shoes. Definitely the fashions have changed some since I last bought a pair of pink satin pointe shoes, or needed taps put on my tap shoes. I watched the saleswoman fit Kira’s little leather shoes and I caught a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror. How many times had I tried on pair after pair of shoes, and stood en pointe in front of a mirror the same as this one? Kira climbed up on the small expanse of dance floor in front of the mirror, new shoes on her little feet, and she twirled and jumped and tried to stand on tiptoe before she pronounced the shoes “perfect”.

While we looked for a cranberry-colored leotard (required for her class level), I surveyed the adult dance clothes, and checked out the shoes. And I started thinking….If I were to take tap again, I wouldn’t need new shoes, I don’t think. I still have my old ones with the good taps…..If I were to try another ballet class again, could I stand the sight of myself in a leotard and tights? Would they let me wear all black?…..I wonder if the studio has an adult modern dance class…..Could I even consider dancing again?…

For me, it was always all or nothing. I either danced every day, or not at all. And the only time in my memory that I danced “not at all” has been the last twelve years. The place that dance held in my life was significant. I don’t know that I could go back casually. Dancing was my poetry, my self-expression, my outlet for rage, pain, fear, joy and love. I balanced, and became balanced. I leaped and spun, and fell and got back up, hurt, bled, strained, and sweated. I was addicted, held in its grip, and driven to the pursuit of perfection that I would never attain. Along the way, I learned a lot about discipline, how to handle myself in crowds, how to entertain people and how to be poised and prepared in my performance. ”Discipline is freedom.” Nineteen years I spent in that life, and I wouldn’t trade any of it. When it was over for me, when I was 23, and graduated from college and had no money for classes, then it was over. I stopped, completely and totally, not even teaching at a studio. And oddly, I didn’t miss it much. I don’t know that I miss it now.

I think the reason I have held off on getting Kira to dance (life and scheduling issues aside) was because I was afraid, subconciously, that if she went, then I would get sucked back in, too. And what if I decided to take a class or two? What if I was never as good again, or never as beautiful and I was when I was 22? Yeah, but this time, it’s not about me. It’s about Kira, and it’s her turn to wear the shoes and leap and bend and slide across the floor, listen to the music and know exactly when to move. I only hope that she will know the freedom and the joy that I did, flying across the space, grace and strength personified. So here we are, cranberry leotard, new pink tights, new pink leather ballet shoes, and a light blue bun cover for her hair….all in hand, all ready for Wednesday. I am so excited, and I can’t wait to see her. I think she might look just like me.

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