Just For Love

I really didn’t feel like going to ballet class tonight. I know, I know, that’s blasphemy but it’s the truth. My day was _____, please feel free to help me out with an appropriate obscenity of your choice. I don’t normally use curse words but off the top of my head I can think of several that apply. 5:45pm rolled around and I was exhausted, headachey, grouchy, and overall not in the mood to try to wiggle my little self into tights and a leotard, jump into bumper to bumper traffic, sit there making faces of exasperation for a hour, circle a couple of blocks of Melrose looking for parking, just to get foot cramps trying to do steps that I can’t do with turnout that I don’t have and pretend to be all ballerina-ey when I’m really more fruit bat than swan. What I really wanted to do was put on warm flannel pajamas, turn on the fireplace, and curl up with a good book and a bowl of cereal.

Instead, I donned the pink tights. And listened to my teacher’s ballet music all the way to West LA.

I love ballet. I love ballet class. I was not in love with the idea of going to ballet class tonight. I was not in love with a leotard that makes me feel fat. I was not in love with traffic from the bowels of Hades. I was not in love with foot cramps. I was not in love with the fact that I ran out of G2 Gatoraide. I was not in love with you and I was not in love with me. I was still in love with ballet. I am still in love with ballet class. When the music starts, I feel the cold of the barre in my hand, the seams of the floor under my dirty, pink flatties, and I am home inside myself. When I reach up into releve and feel my breath slow as I stick my balance pulling into high passe, time slows down and I begin to feel ballet instead of trying to make my body do something that my brain doesn’t think that I can do. When my awesome ballet teacher asks who wants to practice turns, my hand sails upwards without a second thought. From literally out of thin air, I am spotting my way out of turns and not making myself dizzy. I feel sweat run down the back of my neck, my legs begin to tingle sore as I drop down to the floor with my bag, sweater, and Chucks.

Class is over. 90 minutes just for love.

~X O X O

11 thoughts on “Just For Love

  1. Love. If I had to sum up the experience of ballet into one word, that would be it. Love.

    Even on those days when my pink tights make me feel thigh-thunderous, when my bad hair day turns into bad bun day, when I forget to snack and my tummy growls & bloats, when everything goes wrong. Except for ballet. Even when I’m achy and tired, and my legs weigh a ton.

    In class, I forget all about it.

    Thank you, L, for a lovely post!

    • Thanks, Johanna. In the film Etoiles, one of the ballerinas (sadly, I forget her name although I can see her face, I’ll look it up and get back to you on that) says that Love might not even be a strong enough word for her feeling about dance… that ballet is something that consumes you. I get that completely. Even when I have a completely off day IN ballet class, it’s still better than a day without ballet!

    • Thank you, precious. Sometimes it’s the love for something that carries us through… whether its dance class or PhD work! Do it for love and you will always be happy in the end, even if you end up a sweaty pile of mess on the floor afterward. Work out of love and it will be worth it!

      X X X

    • Thanks, Stef. That is very wise insight. Perhaps those are the days when we truly need it most… and are able to get something wonderful and lasting out of it! 😀

  2. Pingback: Reasons to learn ballet!! « shrutz4ever

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