As I do frequently, I danced today. Wobbly. Broken. My body always lusts after the feeling of dance, even when confined totally from movement. When I was in rehab, I would close my eyes and dance and choreograph for hours. Strangely, I felt the joy of dance even then. Now, whenever I can, I continue to do what I can. Stiff as a board. Unable to bend or undulate or coil into or out of any movement. You might say give it up. I say never. Even though my back is rigidly unforgiving and prevents the liquid movements within which dance breathes, I believe that learning to work with the limitations will allow me to express myself again through this medium that I love with every fiber of my body.
I grieve deep in my soul for what is gone, but I do not like to stay there. Indulging in self-pity is worthless. Tears may wash away some of the sadness, but in the long run it’s better to dry them up and confront reality. I’m better at confronting adversity, anyway. Part of me says I will keep dancing, and, damn it, broken and stiff as a board, I will make dance flow through this body in whatever way I can. My whole life I have danced all day, all night and into my dreams. Obstacles cannot stop a love like that. The biggest obstacle is me, I suppose. Accepting that what was is gone; only memories carry that part of my life within me. Learning that this is an altered body, a different me. I need to retrain it for the movements all over again. To learn how the movements can flow again around the back that cannot coil or undulate. Here we go.
First, second, third, fourth, fifth position. Plié, Tendu. Turn. Again.5 6 7 8 © 2004-2010 Donna Peach. All rights reserved.