Open Heart = Pandora's Box(?)

I can't believe it. Since posting my last blog, I've accomplished something. I somehow was able to consistently "let go" on stage. There were a series of circumstances that brought me to this point so I suppose I'll explain. First of all, we had been rehearsing...well and performing our latest program for the last couple of months, since we came back from our winter break. It was all about diving into an Italian evening with two works by Mauro Bigonzetti. Little did I know how much of an effect the program would have on me emotionally! In Quatre Saisons, the first piece, I had the opportunity to learn a few different spots of which I was certainly grateful, and a little overwhelmed. Being new this year, I still feel like I have to prove something...well, prove that I'm worth something, that I'm worth that contract. This, I realize is entirely my own issue because I have this odd ability to manifest pressure out of NOTHING! surprise, surprise! After all, it's all perception right? Anyways, I pretty much had my plate full with that ballet, but was enjoying working on different parts with various ideas and intentions. Cantata, the second piece, was a whole other ballgame. I like to think of it as the meat on the bones. :)

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I really had to pause for a second to think about how to describe this work of art. The way it was described to me was, "It's so much fun. It's a great way to end a performance. You'll feel a special energy and joy on stage." Well, when I first started learning it, I was scared shitless because of course this is so different from anything I've learned before. But this is what I came here for...to learn. So I did my best to throw myself into it, and before I knew it, I was experiencing this passion that people were telling me about. There's something about starting a ballet huddled in a group with a bunch of fellow dancers and singers, singing in Italian. Then after going through a myriad of emotions throughout the ballet, you end with laughing and pretty much a party on stage. Even on a really bad day, it seems impossible to not enjoy yourself even just a little bit!

After performing the program on tour, we came back to Montreal to touch it up once again before performing here. It seemed almost tedious to continue rehearsing the same work over and over again when we'd already performed it, but I managed to uncover a whole other set of feelings while letting it marinate even longer. Looking back on this process I almost feel that everything in this artform should be given time to settle. Time to process in the body. Time to, well literally marinate. Something special seems to happen once you get "comfortable" with choreography. The key is to keep the inspiration coming. And here's where it gets personal, kids.

Ready? (deep breath) This can get difficult as the writer who vowed to be honest and frank.

Over this past year, I feel like I've numbed myself tremendously in order to be able to deal with the extreme change that I created in my life. The move, the new city, new friends, new job, new style, new weather! In order to not get too caught up in missing my comfort zone of my boyfriend, friends, job, home, beach, car...everything, I became slightly numb to it. This is not to be mistaken with numbness all around though. I have greatly enjoyed the experience of moving up here, while sort of reinventing myself as a dancer and as a person. It's a clean slate, and as I've said before that's both exciting and overwhelming. That "vulnerable courage" I spoke of is not an easy thing to take on, and I think with that I might have put on quite a protective layer. This program somehow managed to strip me of that layer...without my permission damn it! What happened?? haha! I thought I was strong! lol. Right...come on.

So we all know that long distance relationships are tough. I knew that going into this and decided to take on the challenge. Pete of course did too. We've been through many ups and downs...and again, through them I feel like I became very numb. I knew it would be months in between visits and I guess I just knew no other way to get through those months. But not having that person around can make someone crazy. Without going into details, we're still going through transitions. I don't know where he's going to be next year, and he doesn't either and that's tough. Long distance, still? I'm working on making my life up here, but it's really hard to feel settled not knowing what's going to happen with this one major part of my life...our relationship.

The first weekend of shows, I was given the chance to perform a solo in Quatre Saisons. I was nervous of course. I wanted things to go well technically, but more importantly, I really wanted to find that "release" on stage. I sometimes call it "the zone." I didn't want to be so focused in my mind that I didn't listen to my heart...BOOM. There we are. In order to do this, I had to open my heart. You can't experience what your heart as to offer if it is closed and numb. I don't believe in coincidences, so I feel that so much of the reading I was doing, the conversations I was having, and the music I was listening to at the time helped me to allow myself to open my heart...without realizing it. The solo I was dancing has kind of an "angst" label to it. They wanted to see the inner struggle...the battle...the pain...anger...whatever you want to call it. It took me awhile, but I knew it was in there. Deep down. Wow, it was there. And a lot of it. I had days that I didn't know if I could actually talk to anyone. I had days that I didn't talk to hardly anyone. Days that I felt like I was going to break down any second...days that I did. Somehow, it all became fuel for my performances. Every second I was onstage I literally threw myself into the movement. It actually became the escape that I needed from my thoughts. My heart was open, and I was letting things out...through my dancing. I even felt my emotions leaking out while watching others dance. It was powerful; overwhelmingly powerful.

Once again, I was reminded of why I dance. When people have asked me in the past why I dance, I used to say, "...because I love to express myself through movement. I love to put my thoughts and emotions into movement." I had a theater teacher in high school that would say, "In a musical, the reason you sing as the actor is because simply speaking the words is no longer cutting it. Your lines should delivered with an urgency that eventually can only lead to singing." That's how I feel about dancing. It's the most natural way for me to describe what I'm going through. I know this sounds cheesy, but I honestly feel relief that I've found that inspiration again because it had been awhile.

I realize this is getting quite long, but I feel the need to tap into one more thing before I sign off. Last week, I found out that my grandmother was taken to the hospital with a slight case of pneumonia. She also had a heart attack but didn't realize it. This woman has battled breast cancer and has lived through miraculous strength. She was on what doctors swore was her deathbed years ago, and she said "I'm not done yet." She fought for her family...for us....for me. She's become the definition of a fighter in my eyes over the years. I am amazed by her powerful strength, love for life, and TREMENDOUS love not just for her family, but for everyone around her. Almost two years ago, her husband passed from his own deteriorating health. Since then, I've seen her light grow dim, but she's still managed to fight through her body's shortcomings. When I'd go home to visit, we'd have coffee each morning and just talk for a couple of hours. I loved it. We were just real...we were vulnerable together. She would tell me that she wanted to keep fighting for us and I believed her, but I knew deep down she'd been struggling with it, and still is.

Needless to say, hearing this information was undeniably difficult. I realize that it's important to accept things as they are. She's getting up there and it's not fair for me to expect her to keep fighting for me. She's tired and that's ok. But it's still hard for me to let that go. I hate to see her struggle, to hurt. After talking to my dad about it, she's decided to not have the surgeries the doctors were recommending. At this point, it's time for nature to run it's course. She's in the process of accepting that and now the family is too. She's out of the hospital now and doing better. I know it's a game of time and that's ok. It's not easy to swallow, but it's ok. I know it's about letting go. But again, with all of the emotions I've been feeling recently I was ready to drop everything and just go to her and be with her. Help her. I wish I could be the nurse that takes care of her everyday, but I can't. It's a difficult responsibility to take on...and slightly unrealistic. I still need to make a living for myself. But life seems to stop. At least I want it to. It doesn't ACTUALLY....I still have to put on a performance kids. Of course! That's what I do for a living.

So guess what happens...I throw myself into it. I didn't really have expectations this weekend. My mom was in town, and I somehow managed to get sick as well. I was nervous about doing well for her...and myself...and with a compromised immune system...little sleep...and lots of emotions, it seemed inevitable that it wouldn't be my best performance. But I realized, "Oh well...all I can do is try my best and have no expectations." I tried to preserve my energy, eat the right fuel, take care of my facility, and have a few quiet moments of meditation before the show to center myself. And I have to say that I've honestly never felt more present on stage. Not that I can remember. Please...this is not about tooting my own horn or anything. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not like that. I'm actually just amazed at the course of events that had amounted to this weekend. As Radiohead says.."Everything in it's right place." The fact that I was talking about trying to find that release on stage...and somehow, it happened. Yes, there are some difficult moments involved, but it all fits into the puzzle. You can't have one without the other. There's always a good side and a tough side, especially when you open your heart and it's completely vulnerable. Looking back, I don't think it should be any other way.

I realize that this is not the end. That week and those shows were hurdles AND gifts set along my path. Life still continues. The highs and the lows. I'm learning to try to not put expectations on each day. You never know what the day will bring after all.

(Image by Alex Grey)