I had the oddest dream last night. I dreamt I was a ballet dancer again.
I suppose given the fact that I was one makes this dream less odd, doesn't it? But it has been so long since I was. More than fifteen years. It seems strange to me that this would be something to rise from my collective unconcious to come and make me happy as I slept. And my dear reader, I was so happy.
I know most people watch ballet and think it isn't terribly interesting, beyod whatever storyline is being danced. Indeed, in my area, there are very few ballets that have no story but the dancing. I know also that there are so many sterotypes associated with dancers, and with ballet. Some of them are true...so not so much. I digress.
The dream was beautiful. I was beautiful. I was so happy. I can't express to you the pure joy of dancing. I still love to dance. I get out and dance as often as possible. I even do it in my living room sometimes, when I have itunes on and no one is looking. But ballet- that is something entirely diferent.
I must confess there are times that I contemplate taking classes locally, doing it again. Not because I want to be a dancer, but because I do find so much joy in it. And the joy, strangely, is in the work.
If you ask me, dancers are athletes of the highest order. They care for their bodies in a way most people never dream of. And they are so strong!
It was beautiful, last night. Freeing. In that dream I had more control over myself than I have in years. Imagine, my dear, the strength is requires. Imagine being so strong that with tiniest movement of the ankle and leg you can be airborne. You can lift yourself higher than most people ever dream. Last night, as I flew, as I lifted, as I gave myself over to that complete control of my body - I knew how a bird must feel to fly. To know that it is my own strength that lifts me. It is my own strength that is giving me joy.
There is so much perfection in the control. I remember still the ability to lift the leg, to draw my toe up the inside of my thigh, to lift it once it reaches the apex and to extend it, high above me. Complete control, complete freedom.
There is nothing sweeter than that freesom, my friend. To know that if you cavalier has his arms about you there is no falling. There is no slipping. There is only lifting, twisting, beautiful movement. You are one with yourself, with him, with sound and vision. There is no word appropriate to express that feeling. Beauty, it seems, falls short. Ecstasy is too tame to address that feeling.
Last night I felt a grace in my body that I haven't felt in ages. I felt a strength I had forgotten I had. As I have gotten older I have become less flexible. Grace is not a word that many associate with me. Indeed, I have gone from gentle, strong and confident to clumsy, weak and shy. Last night I felt none of those things. I felt myself as I used to see myself. Powerful, sleek, painfully sure.
What a wonderful thing to wake up to. What a fantastic way to commence a morning.
Last night, as I slept, I was perfection.
I only pray that I will seek it again in some other midnight wandering.
find the beauty in yourself and your body today. I found it as I wandered in my own mind last night.
AGxx
Find it in yourself, in your waking life. You may not have the flexibility that you once had, but that doesn't mean that you can't learn to see yourself as sleek and powerful again. It's part of how I see you when I read your blog. It's still there within. *hug*
ReplyDeleteI almost said "Fly, be free." But in addition to sounding a little over-the-top, it's also what Mork said as he tossed eggs into the air in Mindy's kitchen... *G*