It's a dancer-perfromer thing. An actress once questioned my plan to dissolve my dancing life. She said- I don't believe it's possible. Once a performer, always a performer! How can you bear to leave the stage?
(I've not.)
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| photo credit- WVS |
My mom said to me in my somnolent, unemployed, early-marriage days-
Even if you can't dance, you are still a creative person. Why don't you channel that creativity towards your family instead?
Then it was not possible. But now that she is grown up, and because I have given it my all for dance, dance simply morphs into a different shape.
The same discipline, the same quest for precision.
The same repetitive practising of a fixed vocabulary, every single day.
The same mental/physical preparation- warm up!
Focus!
Get in costume, get neatly dressed!
24 weeks post-surgery, buttons are still tricky.
But, I don't shy away from tricky.
I learnt this morning, that I also wanted to do the test to give Dumpling and myself a goal to work towards. I wanted to see if I could face the noise in my head, quell that, and find him again.
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| photo credit- WVS |
Because the accident in January damaged my confidence in myself, and my trust in him. I wanted to force myself to re-discover that place of quiet, of listening, where horse and rider are simply in tune, watching out for each other. That sort of togetherness is electrifying.
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| photo credit- WVS |
Electrified!
Lastly, as I performed the wrong choreography, and Dumpling and I didn't falter with such a costly mistake, and as the wind whirled too loudly out in the Commons, I realised, I wanted to do the test, to remind myself, what I am truly made of. I can feel, sense fear. But I mustn't forget. My doctors did insert a metal plate and something like 7 or 8 screws in my arm. I may lack strength and wisdom, but I am made of tough stuff.
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