I take comfort in the thought that happiness would have no value if we had no frustration to compare it to. Still, I am welcoming this good feeling knowing I’m back to normal and happy again with arms wide open!
I should probably clarify what I am talking about. You know those days where you just wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and the whole world seems bleak and gray? Those days when the most mundane tasks seem to require every ounce of effort you can muster? When the thought of all of the things that are to come, all the things you must do, all of the things standing in your way – is terribly daunting and you are so stressed you fear you may pull your hair out? And then one more little problem comes along to sit atop the pile of frustrations you are already feeling, but it’s that one final little problem that throws the pile off balance and it all comes crashing down and buries you underneath it all. You stay stuck under the rubble, unable to get out, for a good few days.
Then finally, seemingly out of the blue, you wake up to find that the pile of rubble you are buried under is not all that heavy, and if you only calmly stood back up you would be able to get out of there and continue with your life. You push off the ground and get back on your feet, dust yourself off, and look down to see your frustrations littered around you, lifeless and unable to do much harm to you.
After taking a few minutes to pick up the frustrations and order them neatly on that shelf in the cabinet in the back of your mind…
…you strut off to continue on the path you were walking down before, your chin up in the air, your head clear, and your confidence emanating through your proud smile and that glow on your face.
That was, in a dramatic analogy, what my weekend was like. Thank goodness for the happy ending! Now if only I could find a way to skip the part where I feel stuck under the pile in the future…but I suppose it’s all part of the dynamic nature of, well, being a human. And really, that of being a ballet dancer. I mean, I might not be as far gone and crazy as Nina Sayers, but even that over-the-top, insane story (which I love, by the way – I am a Black Swan fan!) is based in truth. We ballerinas are crazy, in some sense of the world, for our art. And I don’t think we could make it to the top any other way!emanating through your smile and that glow on your face – you know you can handle anything, one little problem at a time, storing them in the cabinet to wait their turn to be dealt with, on your schedule.
I once heard a quote – unfortunately I cannot remember where, and a Google search has proved unhelpful – about how in order to be a ballerina, you must be a little bit of a masochist. I must say, that rings true in so many ways! And I must disagree with Tamara Rojo, who said, in an interview last summer, that “ballet dancers don’t enjoy the pain. We’re not masochists.” I beg to differ! For a prime example, just try to explain the giddy expression on a young girl’s face after she is bestowed the honor of her first blood blister!
Of course, this is all in good humor, and I am only [half] joking!
Enjoy my posts? Don’t forget to comment on my Top Dance Blogs 2011 post to help me get to the final round!