Friday, 7AM.
My ponytailed head, complete
with unbecoming, razor straight, center part, bobs along the perimeter of a sea
of blankets. The quilt undulates softly in time with spurts of apnea induced
snoring. I weigh my options, decide to go with a poke and softly spoken words.
A pillow to the face sounds more interesting, but I opt out.
(Un)fortunately, the poke is enough and my dad wakes up with a
start. Bleary eyed, he looks at me, confused.
Holding up my backpack, I eagerly proclaim,
“I’m ready. I want to go to school.”
The night before, my father was inducted into the hall of
paternal sainthood- he took me to an Avril Lavigne concert. It was awesome. At
12, belting those lyrics about how Sk8r Bois made life so Complicated was
nothing short of cathartic.
My parents had agreed that the late night coupled with my attendance
record merited a day off from school.
But I had a test.
There were things to learn.
I was not willing to skip.
Since childhood, I have been encouraged to approach mental
cultivation within framework of investigation and enthusiasm. Both my educational
pursuits and current professional development (class, writing, observing) have
been founded in enriching discovery rather than blasé necessity or cerebral
anguish.
In general, I find myself in the midst of a people who
indulge in the idea of toil. We are not considered fully invested in our
practice unless we are, as the adage goes, bleeding, sweating or crying. Sure,
if we dance enough, all of these things will happen, but they will be products
of inevitability, not effort. If bodily secretions were actually a measure of
professional worth, we would all be better off spending our days in fist fights
or donating platelets.
In my community, geographically speaking, the religiously
committed class takers seem to be those whose professional inclinations do not
fall within the dance sector. Having assigned the ^struggle=^value equation
elsewhere, their experience appears less infected by an almost primal need to,
as Kendra Portier so aptly puts it, A+ everything in the studio.
How then, can we throw out the concept of chore and reimagine
daily practice as a privilege?
I’ve tried to habituate classes into my weekly rotation that
meet a series of process bench marks rather than self-assigned (and frankly self-sabotaging)
performance goals.
These include:
An uplifting class-
for pure physical exaltation
A challenging class-
to work on focus and endurance
An easy class- to find
nuance
A systematic class- to
track progress
A class with friends- for
support and accountability
For now, this method suits me.
I view this practice laboratory with reverence. That space
loses its luster when suffering overcomes growth. Tenacity is only effective
when partnered with purpose, joy and forgiveness.
In accordance, let’s develop a practice that is puzzling
rather than painful and commit to working smarter, not harder.
(479)
