I was doing the thing I always do and circling around thoughts like a carousel about how I should just skip dance today. But I knew I should go.
It was an advanced level class.
Class consisted of a few younger training dancers and a few older ones. And the random sprinkles of adults just enjoying it. And an 80 year old lady who was the best dancer (I've ever seen?)
She encapsulated the trance of dance. How did she do it?
I spent most of the class trying to remember things. I wasn't used to hearing those combinations. They were abrupt and methodical.
I refused to pirouette again. Miss H made a general overall announcement about not being scared to try them. She looked softly at me.
I looked away.
I wasn't scared. It was the equivalent of a writers block. A pirouette block. It's like my heart just stopped trying to put the courage together to do them.
I did center adagio with a little more bravery than I ever have. I did the arabesque promenade turn without hesitation, simply because we had worked on these in Chicago.
Miss H is one of the best. She is sharp and never hesitates. I can feel her mind processing and listening and assessing to the rhythm of the ivory keys being pressed. The pianist lately has been handsome.
Is he? Or am I just trying to find an in class distraction.
I am starting to notice everything reminds me of dance.
Plants. Trees. Flowers. Wind. Clouds.