An hour into the drive home, I’m still ridin’ high on the adrenaline and euphoria from a gorgeous dance class at the Doug Varone Summer Workshop 2 hours away, outside New York City. I’m feeling so fantastic that I wonder if I didn’t really dance much or if my precipitous 4:20 a.m. wakeup didn’t take a toll after all.
Then I hit a wall. Energetically, that is. The residue of a few bad nights’ sleep, the grinding commute starting at 6:45 a.m. for the past few days, the athletic classes, collects on my eyelids threatening to close them just for a second of rest. DON’T DO IT!!
All of which brings me back, once again, to the question I still can’t answer. The one that drives me, and hey, let’s face it, those around me, insane. How do you keep this alive, this passion for your art and your motivation to keep growing, being fed?
If I lived somewhere else the answer could be easier. Like in or nearer a major arts oasis or big city, I could conceivably feed this fire more readily. But I don’t and I can’t.
Yesterday, the question was dogging me incessantly. The classes and commute had combined to tweak my knee so that I couldn’t straighten it. A dark day, indeed. Two jacuzzis, self-massage, a bodywork appointment, ibuprofen and numerous stretching sessions later I got up this morning and my knee was stiff and a little swollen, but could straighten after I used the heating pad as I gulped breakfast at 5:45 a.m.
Some crazy drivers reminded me of what I hadn’t appreciated fully enough before: That my slamming on the brakes going 70 mph when said drivers pulled in front of me at the last minute jams my right leg up into my throat. Hurting my knee. Which I follow up with a jumping, turning, running festival for an hour and 45 minutes. And the long drive home. Am I crazy? Well…..
But then Julia Burrer gives that lush and challenging and beautiful class, demonstrating with her endless limbs and sense of ease, and I’m a goner. I see myself beaming in the mirror, again and again. It just doesn’t get better than this–the rich movement, the amazing accompaniment by the wizard of a drummer who’s wailing on the set, the roomful of eager dancers going for it. I’m in heaven!
My promise to myself that if I get through today, I’m calling it and taking tomorrow off to let my knee heal for a couple of days? I don’t know. I just don’t know. The price is high, but the class is a feast.
What do I do? How do I keep it, this dancing passion, alive?