< 501: Class

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.

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