I have a love-hate relationship with ballet. At least that’s what I tell the countless teachers in the Halifax area who see me for a few weeks until I disappear into oblivion.
I began ballet at the ripe old age of…five.
Not young, the norm. Spending weeknights at the studio amongst friends, working on my turn-out and on my technique. I loved every minute of it.
Sure I love dance, always will, but back in those days I loved the challenge, the competition with myself. Proving myself wrong was the utmost of rewards. Can’t do this move? Yea right! I’d practice until I got it. If for some reason I couldn’t it was rough.
Rarely did I dance just for the sake of dancing, but rather to reach a goal. The next recital, the next exam, the next challenge.
Now, years after starting back at dance I struggle to enjoy it. Sure it’s challenging but there is little reward besides putting my leg a little higher with each class- my flexibility growing. There is no goal. I’ve struggled with it for some time. I’ll start ballet and ultimately lose interest, resorting to the gym instead.
It makes me question a lot of what I do. Do I do it for something to achieve or because I truly love it? Do I read a book to enjoy the story or to finish it? Do I run cause it’s fun or because I know it’s a means to an end. Do I volunteer because I love my community and field or do I do it to say I did? I question.
I’ve committed to loving dance this time around, at least for six weeks. Four weeks in and I’m still sticking around. Hoping this time to love.