metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You point your toe with your ass (and other important things I learned in ballet class). You point your toe with your ass (and other important things I learned in ballet class). It was hot, an unusually warm summer night in Southern California. The air was still - not even a shore breeze - and the water was as flat as my Uncle Ed�s haircut. (Uncle Ed�s hair was cut in a flat top, an amazing thing to me when I was very young, an embarrassing thing to me when I was adolescent, and a curious thing to me as a young adult.) Anyway, it was just one of those still warm evenings and I was to begin ballet class for the first time at 36 yrs of age. I was nervous. I was anticipatory. I was giddy. I was ecstatic. I had always wanted to dance. My mother and father were famous among their friends and family for dancing together. They had rhythm, they had style, they had �je ne sais quoi�. I wanted to take dancing lessons. No. I had to take piano lessons. Bleh. And so I was frustrated and sad for my life up to my 36th birthday, at which time I decided that this would be the year I take ballet, dammit! And so, I signed up for classes at the local Jr. College. The gym was hot, fans were blowing, the high ceiling gaped in darkness. The only light was from the open doors. Mirrors along both north and south walls and barres, too! The room smelled of � what? Clean sweat? The air was full of muted excitement. The women were of all ages, most in their 20�s, but some in their 30�s and even 40�s and 50�s(!), stretching, warming up, doing sit ups, getting into their bodies. Not much talking as everyone turned a little (or a lot) inward. It was a beginning class, but I could tell most were not beginners. They were there just to �take class�, a feeling � something � I learned to know and understand as I was drawn deeper into the dance experience. They were all in one corner of the room where there was a bench or two, putting on their shoes, leg warmers, sweaters. The pianist came in and the instructor was at the piano, looking over her notes. Looking back, I was so fortunate to take class there. Sheree was a dream of an instructor. Serious but kind, with a great feel for barre and center work and also choreography. The classes seemed to flow naturally and my body responded with joy and a sense of completeness. I was hooked. I began taking class twice a week in the evenings and found another class at the Rec Center another night. So I was ballet-ing three nights a week! I was in heaven, although the class at the Rec was taught by Heide, a stern German woman who barked commands as though it were a military drill. I remember one girl, Briana, a little chunky but not really fat, taking this class with me. She was about 7 or 8. Ms. Heidelberg said, �Briana, vy are you teking ballet?� Briana, embarrassed to be put on the spot, blushed and said, �To be more graceful.� (probably the reason her mother made her take ballet). At that answer Heide Heidelberg growled (German is such a guttural, growling language. It is easy to be surly in German), �NO! Zat ist not vy you tek ballet! It dust nut mek you graceful. Aaagh!� When Ms. Heidelberg was not looking, I whispered to Briana, �I think it does make you graceful. You look more graceful to me!� and I smiled. Poor girl. She probably has a web diary and moans the fact that she had to take ballet from a royal bitch and hates dancing to this day�. But, anyway, most in that class were about 8 years old. But, I felt OK with it because � I was just taking class. Except Heide was a bitch. So I guess I got the total ballet experience. One teacher was a dream and the other a bitch! I learned many things in ballet class. I learned where my center of gravity is. I learned to balance. I learned a certain self discipline. I learned that your arm extends much farther than the ends of your fingers, and so does your head. I learned that you point your toes with your ass muscles. How about that? I took ballet class for a little over 4 years, I finally got strong enough to get �en pointe�! I even took an additional pointe class. How cool is that? Turning, pirouette-ing en pointe. What a gas! Frightening but exhilarating at the same time. Then I moved to rural Georgia where classes are so very geared to kids that I could not get an evening class� Very sad. I remember my evenings in that gym, I can remember the smell and the feel of it. It was 10 years ago and I yearn for it to this day. I will never forget the lessons I learned. The most important lesson was that if you want to do something, do it. It is never too late to realize a dream, a hope. Sometimes, if you overcome the barriers you place in front of yourself, you find a peace and contentment that becomes part of you and feels right � as if there were a place for it just waiting to be filled. Another important lesson is that you point your toes with your ass. In other words, the motivation - the catalyst - the cause of a thing is usually very far removed and seemingly unconnected with it�s eventual outcome. Look a little deeper or farther for the cause of things. It isn't the toe muscle or even the foot muscle that points the toe - it's the ass muscle. That's where it all begins. 8:57 a.m. - 2004-08-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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