Yet, one of the standout moments that lingered for me was not one of the most virtuosic ones, nor one of the most complex, either. What was emblazoned in my memory was a tiny, yet eternal, instant in the short solo by one of the younger, less experienced dancers.
After she performed some fairly simple choreography, she stood facing the audience and made a small arm gesture to accompany an opening movement in her torso. To be honest, I cannot recall the choreography precisely.
But what I can remember clearly, is the way she suddenly filled up with and radiated light. Her soul illuminated with reverence, with exultation. You could tell that in her deepest self, she was home. Offering a glimpse of her inimitability to the world.
She and that moment took my breath away. And stung my eyes with surprise tears.
When I thought back over why I had such a powerful visceral response, I realized that that young dancer’s performance echoes with mine. What I was reminded of through her, what punched me in the solar plexus, is the paramount importance of making art, of creating and offering genuinely our vision of the beautiful and meaningful.
She embodied why so many of us make art, as stupefying, discouraging, infuriating, difficult and unappreciated as it may be, in whatever form it takes. Dance, music, writing, visual art, and beyond.
We do it to come to know who we are, and who we could be. To share that creative spark with the universe. And, when we are especially fortunate, for those indescribable, jewel-like moments of transcendence, of eternity.
Gone in a flash…yet echoing over the eons, showering everywhere and on everyone the ineradicable, positive shimmer of art.
Photo credit: Bottom–Rich Davis