Little milestones.

So, this may not seem like much to anyone else, but to me it was significant enough to make a blog post.

Jilissa was out of town on Monday, so we had McKenna subbing. I ended up having to go home early on Thursday due to unknown illness (no, not contagious.) and Monday I wasn't much better. Not to mention that I'm going Saturday to try and find better pointe shoes. (These are the best I've had, but the toe really limits me.) I just took my pointe shoes off and decided to focus on what I'm already good at and improving on those things rather than try and challenge myself with more that takes away from those.
We were doing a decage combination in the center with arms that switched. It usually would throw me off, but I think this time it actually started to make sense. Usually I can't grasp why this arm goes with that move, and why it seemed different, so I would just struggle through the combination and move on. But this time, I saw that this was the only arm that was different and it made sense.
I guess I was able to better excecute the arms, because McKenna even said, "Good arms, Emilee!"
This made me really happy, even though I completely flubbed them after she said that. Arms are something I've really been trying to grasp and improve on. I can't always ask for clarification because half of it is just learning and knowing rather than being explained. But this shows me that I'm getting somewhere.

The thing about progress is that you don't always see it happening. Progress is an act of faith; you have to believe that you're achieving it even if you don't see it happening. Then one day, all of a sudden, you look back and realize how far you've come. Progress is something that you don't always notice happening, but if you have enough faith and hold on, you'll reap the beautiful rewards.

Progress

Every dancer wants to make their teacher proud. To do something that makes them yell, "YES!" or other various things. I tend to go unnoticed by my teacher, which I take as a good sign, because if I do something wrong she does tell me. I try not to worry about where her attention goes and just work hard on doing the best I know how to do; to work hard enough that she has to notice.
I'm not one used as the example. I'm not extremely gifted or flexible or whatever. I'm average, working hard to be the best I can. I can tear myself apart in comparisons if I wanted to, but I don't want to--it's not worth it.
Yesterday there were only 5 of us in the advanced class. Since two of the girls were missing from the recital piece, she only ran it twice to help the girls remember and then we moved on. We did a lot of things across the floor, some proving to be challenging in that they changed up the way we're used to executing these steps. We tried anyway, doing our best--practice makes progress. We got to this one part where we did tombe pas de bourree, glissade, saut de chat, contre tout, tombe pas de bourree, glissade, saut de chat, contre tout, tombe pas de bourree, glissade, assemble, fire bird, step, step, fourth releve and hold.
Well, my friend I was going with apparently wasn't ready for it, and when the music started, she hesitated and I went anyway. Instead of freaking out by the fact I was going alone, I guess I had a moment of determination. I was going to do that darn fire bird whether it looked ridiculous or not. After I got to the first glissade, I could hear Jilissa yelling, "Good! Keep going!" and other encouragements as I took on the combination by myself--in the first group, I might add. I had no one before me to watch to see the correct way to do it or solidify the sequence--I just went for it.
Sure, I still can't do a darn fire bird, but part of that comes from needing strength still.
But, I think it showed growth to my teacher; the fact that I went for it anyway. She was proud of me, I could tell, and that means the world.

Fight for it.

Working on our recital piece, we ended up having to go over this one 36 count long section for about 30 minutes straight.
It's not necessarily a difficult section, a little confusing, but once you get it, it's hard to mistake. For some reason, we struggled with this as a whole; one part of the second 6 (not 8) count section proved especially problematic. We did it over and over and over again until we knew that we did the plie until count 4 when we went into pique arabesque instead of count 3, and that it was pique, not a releve up to it.

Jilissa told us how important it is for all of us to be on the same count. Since we're dancing in a group like a corps type movement, if one is off, it throws the whole thing. She said some of us got it every time, while others struggled.
"You all have to fight for it. You have to decide that this is what you want and fight for it."

That thing that feels impossible?
Fight for it.
Don't you dare give up before it has the chance to prove to you that there's possibility there.
You can do all things.
Where's your strength?
Fight.

Vulnerable.

Vulnerability.
I have noticed this to be a reoccurring theme; not only in dance, but seemingly everywhere I go.

I've hesitated writing about this, because it forces me to acknowledge that I, indeed, have to let myself be vulnerable and be okay with it.
I've had my fair share of abuse lashed out in my vulnerability, and some even when I'm hard as a rock, but now comes the point where I have to ask myself; am I going to let that define me?

You go through things, and you think you've overcome it all and healed as much as you can; but the truth is, you never really stop healing.
Once you've had a wound so deep inflicted on you--for whatever the reason--getting back to the person you were pre-event can prove to be rather difficult. You may feel that it takes months or years to finally get back to where you feel like you know who you are, and by then you're a completely different person anyway. I may feel that you never get there. But you know what, every moment--before, after, whatever--you are you. You are constantly growing, developing, falling and rising and falling and rising again. This thing doesn't define you, but it does become part of your story.
This may come across as embarrassing, shameful even, but it's not.
You are now given something most other people never receive.
A voice.
You can speak up and speak out.
You can be the gentle reassurance when someone else finds themselves in the same place.
The pain and grief will come and go in waves, but you can either let it weigh down on you, or you can rise above it and do something with it.

Anyways.
I've heard the quote about how anyone can do the moves, but without the expression, technique falls flat (total and complete paraphrase. In fact, I don't think I got a word of that correct; but the concept is what matters.) and I've struggled with the logic of this. How can I express if I don't even understand the steps? Isn't that what I'm in class for? To learn how to execute certain moves and then perfect on them as I learn to string them together with other moves? How can I even get across the floor when I don't understand the moves you're asking me to get there?

Woah, woah, woah, slow down there, killer.
You're thinking too much.
Stop, take a breath, and just go.
So what if you screw it up. Even if you were on stage, half the people in the audience don't know what you're doing anyway.
Ever watched videos of professionals? Newsflash: they screw up too.
Do you know why you have a hard time being able to tell?
Their artistry.
Do you know what makes their artistry so great?
Vulnerability.

It makes me wish I could get back into an acting class, or do another play. To remind myself how it feels and what is required to put your entire being into a character. You know the lines, you know the blocking, you are equipped as much as you can be and still things occasionally go wrong. But you are able to handle it, "The show must go on." You have to be able to put your whole self into the character, to essentially bring them to life. What is different in dance?

Even if you're in the corps, you're vital. Every part is important.
I heard a man on a radio broadcast yesterday give the example of an orchestra. He asked a conductor which was the hardest instrument to conduct. Do you know what he said? "Second fiddle." Do you know why? Because anyone can play first fiddle and put their complete self into the piece, but to be the second fiddle and put forth the same energy and excitement and passion? It's hard to find. People don't like not being known for their great work.
Let go of your pride.
Be like Bess Flowers. She has more movie work under her belt than most top named stars starting in the 1920s, but most movie goers wouldn't know her name, and only the avid would recognize her face. Why? She was an extra. They called her, "The Queen of Hollywood Extras." She was so good and so consistent and put all of herself into "just" the extra roles that the directors started to take note. She was even requested by many of the big named guys of the day.

She was vulnerable.
She went in every day like she had something great to offer the world, because she did.
She didn't do it to see her name in lights, but out of deep passion. She wanted to see the movies succeed, she wanted to do what she could to add strength and ease to bringing these stories to life.
And she never had to worry about having work.

Be vulnerable.
Put all of you into everything you do.
Even if you think no one will ever notice or appreciate you, I guarantee you, it's worth it.
And not only is it worth it, it'll encourage and inspire people that you may have never realized, and ones that those the big names inspire would never be able to.

So now, in class, as much as I am able, I want to put my whole self into what I do.
I want to develop and push myself, I want to give every ounce of everything I have.
I want to put everything into dance now, because I may not get another chance after today.
I know this all too well.
Fight for it.
Don't make excuses.
Don't give up.

Be vulnerable.
Show the world what you're made of.
What's the worst that could happen?

Life.

We had a sub for last night's ballet class.
She's my favorite, and I haven't had her in a while.

Some of the other girls laugh at her, because she's so eccentric. She gets into the roll every time she dances, even just in practice.

I, personally, think she is wonderful.
She keeps it light-hearted. She knows where we're coming from.
She also keeps the combinations simple for the sake of technique. She'd rather us not have to use all our energy on trying to remember and rather focus on the details of the movement. She goes around and pokes and prods each of us to help us become better.
She has a way of wording her corrections that helps me understand the movement better.

Don't get me wrong, I love Jilissa.
But a change of perspective is wonderful every once in a while and really helps you grasp what you're doing.

This post isn't very eloquent, but I couldn't not post about Ms. Polly.

Oh, did I mention she's in her 60s, broke her hip in July, and was teaching class a mere months later??
she's so hard core.

I swear I had a good title for this...

I remember thinking of a good title for this as I was trying to fall asleep last night.
Buuuut, I can't remember it anymore.

I almost didn't go to dance yesterday.
I was having a rough day, and really didn't want everything to go bad.
I figured if I didn't go to dance, then I couldn't fail, right?

Well, I went anyway.
After all, it is the one thing that makes me feel alive.
Figured I'd give it a shot.
If I failed, I failed.
I'd just cry my tears, get back up, and try again tomorrow.
(so dramatic.)

Jilissa told us we wouldn't be having advanced class that day.
She's involved in about a million other things, and had a rehearsal last night.
(preceded and followed by other long-houred rehearsals)
This was okay with me.
I wasn't sure if I would have the mental capacity to make it through a class that's technically still out of my league. (I would have sucked it up and done it anyway, and probably loved it, but I was okay with not having to.)

I've really been trying to work harder. I want to get better, stronger, and to do that I have to push myself.
If I'm not shaking at the end of class, I didn't push hard enough.
I'm trying to carry it through to home, too.
I want to do everything in my power to get better.
I was excited when we got to pointe class and she was having us do things I was really wanting to work on.
Okay, truth be told, I was terrified at first.
But I knew the girls next to me weren't feeling very confident either, so I gave them a fist bump and said, "we got this." They gave me a confident nod, and we pressed on.
Wouldn't you know it, we were able to get through the complicated, challenge our endurance, and surprise ourselves.

When we went across the floor, the first thing she wanted us to do in the combination was pirouettes from forth.
Not gonna lie, I was scared.
I haven't been able to successfully do these.
And by that, I mean, I haven't been able to even get around, let alone do them correctly.
I psyched myself up, and just went for it.
I didn't do it technically correct, but I did get around.
I didn't freak out, and was able to go through the motions, to help my brain process what my feet should be doing. The first step to improvement.
I was able to do the arabesque and pique develope devant, which is what I was doing when I ate it a couple weeks ago.

I was pretty excited when she said we were going to do pique turns next.
I've been wanting to work on these so much.
I tend to bend my knee, forget to plie enough, and dip my shoulder during the turn.
"Two pique turns, and two lame ducks. That's it."
...That's it? That's it?
Lame ducks. Another demise. Can my brain process that on pointe?
Oh well, here goes nothing.

At first, my knee was bending.
I was getting frustrated with myself, that is not acceptable.
Then, for some reason, everything clicked.
Knee straight, plie, spot, shoulders square.
I did it!
I even made it into the lame ducks successfully!
Jilissa saw it and said, "Good, Emilee!"
(Ps. That is like, the best thing a teacher can do to a dance. Next to using you as an example.The latter is rather rare.)
I made some comment mindlessly, since I'm awkward with compliments. I cringed at myself, but was so proud at the same time.
I'm getting it.

Now the left side.
I did it once, I can do it again, right? After all, left is my better side oddly enough.
So there I go, knee straigh, plie, spot, shoulders square.
Pique, pique, lame duck, lame duck, Pique...
"Good, Emilee!! That's it!!"
I had to break the pattern there as I almost ran into someone else, but in that I caught Jilissa's face.
It was an expression of accomplishment. One that said her words were intentional. That they were meant.
I smiled huge, and managed to contain my excitement. But when I got to the other side, Kali was there with a giant grin and a high five. She understood my excitement. :)

GUYS, THAT NEVER HAPPENS.
COMPLIMENTS ARE RARE.
I'M FREAKIN OUT OVER HERE!!

Needless to say, yesterday was a great day for dance, and I'm so glad that I went.
I felt good, I got compliments on pointe, and really seem to be getting somewhere.
Granted, I couldn't do all the bourrees since I killed my toes on the turns, but I was able to keep up in what I did. Another first.

Now I can't wait to get the old storage building thing cleaned up so I can have a place to practice.
Until then, I'll keep doing what I can.