Getting Back to Normal

photo credit: hula seventy


I just had a terrible weekend.

Although, to be fair, for a terrible weekend it was pretty great. I went out for dinner with friends, took pictures at the Botanical Gardens, finally got around to watching The Triplets of Belleville, made Roasted Vegetable Baklava and Sour Cherry Slab Pie. But, Friday pretty much shot down any chance I had of really, fully enjoying these things.

On Friday, I went at my normal time to my normal place to practice my normal dancing. But, I was kind of extra-fluttery excited because I got a new digital camera for Christmas, and I was going to figure out a way to record myself dancing, something I have been trying to do for months. The little studio where I go to practice has this convenient, high ledge running around two sides of the room, perfect for resting a digital camera on at a height and angle that actually takes in most of the room. Begin recording project. Of course, I can't help but watch everything I record as soon as I finish it. And, like a storm cloud on the horizon, a slow build begins. The first video is okay, not great, but not too bad. I am able to admire the clothes I picked out to practice in, some of my movements look neat. The next two videos are songs that I've been working on forever, and not in a "this is my opus and it has all been building to this point" kind of way. More in a "I was done with this piece months ago, but had no way of getting a record of it and so didn't feel free to let it go, so just kept working it until it was overworked, and terrible, and god I just need to get this down so it can go somewhere to die!" kind of way. Yep.

And, watching these two videos, the stormclouds raced up to cover the sun, the sky turned black and angry, and a tornado ripped out of the sky and tore through all of my self-conceptions, hope, and generally every good feeling I've ever had about anything. These videos were terrible, because I was terrible in them. My movements were repetitive, boring, and uninspired. My technique was sloppy or non-existent. Nothing translated to the tape the way I felt it in my body. It was embarrassing, watching this little video that no one but myself had ever seen, I felt deeply embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had thought for even one micro-moment I could dance. Embarrassed that I had such high expectations for myself and then achieved so low. Embarrassed by my lack of originality, of form, of thoughtful, good work.

To back up a little, I have been encouraged by a couple of people in the last year to start thinking about grad school for dance, and I had been. I had started researching choreographers, reading articles about dance companies, not as potential career options, but to be knowledgeable in my field, to be familiar with and inspired by inspiring work. In short, I was starting to take myself seriously, and these little videos showed me what a joke that was. I had been looking at enrolling in another semester's worth of dance classes, and I didn't even feel like I could carry on with that. There was nothing to do but quit everything and walk around the rest of my life with a bag on my head to hide my shame.

I forced myself to keep dancing that afternoon, because I knew if I didn't intervene, I would probably never want to dance ever again. I did the only thing I know how to do and danced out the disappointment. The rest of the weekend, in spite of the fun things I was doing, it was hard not to walk around with my head hung low, feel sorry for myself, sorry to be myself, feeling like a failure.

Never mind the fact that I had injured both my wrist and my tailbone, which made me a more cautious mover and prevented me from doing any floor work. Never mind that I have always had trouble performing in front of even one or two people, and the camera was just another eye that I would have to get used to performing in front of. Never mind that I knew I was no longer happy with this work and just looking to get it out of the way so I could move on to something else. Never mind that a camera is just a picture, not the absolute expression of all hidden realities, and like any picture WILL be interpreted by the viewer, who is more than a little biased about her own expectations and filters when looking at herself. Nope, none of these mitigating factors can make a lick of difference, I am a complete and utter failure, doomed to roam the earth in infamy for the rest of my days. (Perhaps you can tell, I tend to be somewhat dramatic when upset.)

Then, in the midst of the weeping and gnashing of teeth, I have to wonder, where did all this come from? Who set the expectation that I would suddenly be able to land a triple pirouette, or soar through the air on every leap? I can't do those things yet, and I don't have to. And where did I get permission to treat myself so unkindly? I often wonder why I think it's okay to talk to myself in tones or with language I wouldn't even use with someone I didn't like very much, let alone someone I cared about and wanted to see succeed. I made a resolution to advocate for myself as an artist, and apparently some times that will mean advocating for myself with myself, as I tend to be my own harshest critic. I have to remember why I do this in the first place. I don't dance to be a great dancer, to get applause or critical acclaim. I dance because I have to dance, I have to keep dancing, I have to tell my stories. And someday I hope to be able to use this art to help other people. Good technique is important, but I'm always trying to be better, not necessarily the best.

And then there's the art perspective. How many times have I wanted to tear my hair out when a piece of writing was not going well? How many times have I ridden the rollercoaster between elation and despair in the editing process? How many times have I wailed that everything I've ever done is crap and there's nothing left to do but curl up in a ball and die? How many times have I discarded work because it just wasn't working out? Over the years, I have developed a very thick skin as a writer, but because the dancing life is much newer, I feel very fragile, and the slightest tremor feels like the whole structure is going to collapse. Also, it has been helpful to remember that everyone has been artistically down in the dumps at some points, and there's really not much to do besides slog through it. Although it seems like a distant memory, I know I've had days where breakthroughs were exploding across my sky like fireworks, and I felt like everything I did was beautiful and I couldn't take a wrong step, which means that I'll inevitably have days where every song seems uninspiring, and my feet barely seem to leave the floor.

So what can I do? I have to go back, I have to keep dancing and unfortunately, I have to keep taping myself until I'm no longer afraid of it (bleh!), until I can perform at 110% of capacity no matter who's watching. I have to keep going, because in the artistic life, (aside from the occasional detour of flopping down right where you are, flailing on the floor and whining for a while) there is no way but forward.

S.

New Year

Wow, September to January. That's like...five months. That's almost half a year. So. I don't know who I might be talking to out there because everyone who probably ever read this has probably abandoned this creaky ghost town of a blog, but that's okay. I have been writing still, just not here. And this space, unfortunately for all you ninjas, has always been for me. And that is why I came back here today, to talk some things over with myself. You can listen in, if you feel so inclined.

The time has come again for the making of New Year's Resolutions, a favorite past time of mine, mostly because I love reflection and analysis, and goal-setting too. I think I did pretty okay with last year's resolutions, except for that last one. I realized that I have no problem laughing at myself when I actually can see the humor in whatever it is I did, but when I am legitimately embarrassed, that all goes out the window and I cannot find within me a speck of humor, anywhere. Oh well. I guess that one stays on the docket for a little while longer. But, 2011 is a fresh new year and calls for new resolutions, so here goes:

1. Spend more time on my creative work. The end of this year, as you would know if I had been showing up here, has been rough. My last job ended in October, and I have been job hunting ever since, in spite of having an evening job as a ballroom dance instructor that pays almost nothing, and tends to lead to a great deal of drama and frustration. Since that time, I have felt drained from worrying about money and how I'll pay the bills, to job searching, cover letter writing, and all the exhausting roller coaster emotions that go into that endeavor, and then investing my time in the boards of which I am a member, the few patchy times I have been able to get some work, and doing adult things like laundry and dishes and making sure the house doesn't get gross. So, in spite of the fact that I'm only working part time and should have more free time than anybody and no right to complain, I feel stretched too thin, exhausted, and demotivated.

It is hard to spend a day sending out resumes, looking for job opportunities, go to work at night and come home and feel like doing anything creative. Most times, I take refuge in TV. I love TV and in spite of the fact that I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with watching television, I think I tend to use it as an escape, a way to check out from thinking, from worry and stress. It is extremely, extremely difficult to feel energized and motivated enough to pick up my guitar or my journal, or watch and analyze a video of some choreographer's work when all I want to do is tune in to 30 Rock and zone out. Unfortunately, I don't expect to ever support myself on my artistic work alone, so it will always have to be added to whatever else I'm doing. I have to train myself to engage even when I'm feeling grumpy over some drama at the studio or dejected because potential employers haven't been calling. Sure I feel tired and uninspired, but at the end of the day, aren't those just excuses that will keep me from moving forward in my work?

My hypothesis, which I am trying to test here, is that doing the artistic work, engaging my brain and emotions, will actually help me to feel more refreshed and ready to deal with the rest of life than hiding away for a while. This may be completely false, and I think I will have to be gracious with myself as I try to navigate how this will work, but I want to give it a try.

2. Have faith in myself as an artist. Whoa nelly. This is gonna be tough. I've had some opportunities to share different facets of my work this past year and one of the pieces of feedback I get consistently is that I approach sharing my work apologetically, rather than confidently. One of the things that I find most difficult in the artistic life is that you have to be the one who believes in you and in your work more than anybody else. I think with dance in particular, I am plagued by questions of where all this is going, why am I even doing it, how good can I possibly expect myself to get given my late start, will anybody ever take me seriously, etc, etc. It feels like everything I work for and want is a million, billion miles away and some days it stops me dead in my tracks and I feel like I can't go on. But the reason that I dance is not so I can join a famous company one day or have the applause of thousands. I dance because I have to dance and I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. The same goes for my writing, I have to tell these stories. And I love my work, I love it so much, but I have to love it even more, and I have to learn how to love it in front of other people, to not be afraid to let them know how much I care. Because the only person that's going to advocate for me and my work is me.

3. Read the Bible. Okay, let's be honest. I already have read the Bible. All of it. But it's been quite a while and I know that there were vast portions that I read with almost no comprehension. I would really like to read the Bible with a book or commentary that will help illumine what I'm reading, the way that I used to in college. I want to start with the Old Testament, since that's what I have the least comprehension of and background in. I am pretty sure that it is worth investing some time to try to understand this book and its stories.

Oh, and the word I am manifesting for this year is abundance. I feel like last year's adventures in honesty was almost too successful, as I now feel almost incapable of hiding my feelings. But, I remind myself, this is probably a good thing, at least in most cases. It's funny, I feel like I didn't put forth herculean efforts to reform myself in the honesty project, but just by putting it out there and asking for it, it came to me. Thanks, God.

When I say abundance, I don't just mean material plenty, although a little of that would be awfully nice right about now. I mean feeling secure in the enough-ness that I have everything I need, or I will be given everything I need, and more than. Abundance of time, abundance of inspiration, abundance of friends, abundance of faith, abundance of hope and courage, abundance of love. Amen.