Early in life, my mother gave me the choice between
gymnastics or dance lessons. I had to choose one. I remember it being a tough
decision, but I ultimately choose dance. I alternated between teal green
matching tights and leotard and a sky blue ensemble and enthusiastically
arrived for each dance lesson prepared for what instruction awaited me on those
wooden floors.
Over the years, my lessons increased from two days a week to
every day of the week. I delighted in each class whether it be tap, jazz or
ballet and expanded my studies to include two different dance studios.
It may sound cliché, but when I dance it truly is for the
love of dance. I love the way I can feel every muscle in my body tightening or
releasing into the correct shape or movement. It feels like strength and
balance and beauty all at once. Everything is in the right place if only for a
moment before changing to the next position. It is energizing and empowering
and joyful. The beat of the music courses through my body and my muscles
surprise me as they move to the rhythm. In a word, it just feels good.
I can still do all of my time steps and gracefully glissade
across a floor, but the dance lesson that strikes a chord the most strongly
with me is not a dance lesson at all; it just took place during a dance class.
At some point during high school, some of the coming-of-age social
issues I had struggled with seemed to compound. I can’t put my finger on exactly
what was causing my anxiety at the time. It was too long ago and being a
teenager can be confusing. I know that there was a boyfriend. There were also
girls that weren’t too pleased about the boyfriend. There were friends that
turned out not to be friends and there were comparisons to others that didn’t
quite seem to fit me. It was confusing. I was sad.
At my dance classes, I started to move but not with the
music. I started to move to the back of the room. Without saying anything from
week to week, I moved myself from the front row to the middle row and finally
to the back where I lifelessly executed the required steps. It didn’t seem to
matter. I was still back there participating. I didn’t think much of it
actually. I was pretty wrapped up in just being sad.
Then, one day, I was surprised. After a week or so of
hanging out in the back row, my dance instructor Mr. Joel, walked straight
towards me in the middle of a class and said these words to me, “What are you
doing here in the back?” That was it; that was all he said, and he walked away.
It was just enough though. It shocked me out of my pity party. Wow!
Those simple words, “What are you doing here in the back?”
made me realize that I had put myself there. No one else had put me there. I
had taken my joy away from myself. I had separated myself from one of the
greatest gifts I had been given at that point in my life. I was shocked…at myself.
Mr. Joel’s words took the wind out of my lungs, but they
also did more than that. They blew away the selfish sadness I had used to cloud
my judgment. Although, I wasn’t completely healed of my anxieties, those words inspired
me to take ownership for my role in letting those anxieties get the better of
me. They allowed me to say that I could control my happiness as well as my success.
I didn’t want a cloud of confusion or sadness to get the
better of me anymore.
As slowly as I had moved to the back of the room, I began
moving to the front of the room again. By the end of my senior year, I was
dancing wholeheartedly again and I felt good again. I felt successful.
When the senior awards were announced at the end-of-the-year
recital, I clapped proudly as a friend of mine was recognized for her great
skills and dedication. She deserved it! What I didn’t expect was to have my
name mentioned as a close and second runner up. It was quite an honor as well
as recognition of those slow steps that I took back to the front of the room.
You see the thing is, no one else can put you in the back of
the room and no one else can put you in the front of it again except for you.
It’s a very hard concept, especially when you’re sitting in the back. But
believe me, you can do it. You may be surprised or shocked when someone points
it out to you but be glad and do something about it! Only you can!
·
Think of the ways you put yourself in the back
of the room at school, at work or socially.
·
Have you gone back and forth? What did you learn
from each of these experiences?
·
What talents do you or do you not live into that
bring you joy?