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I Hope You Dance

Five years. I’ve been posting here for five years.

In June of 2012, I decided to share my dance experience with the big, wide world. I thought that it would be a lot of fun to keep a record of my adventures in pre-professional balletland. I never dreamed that I would one day be able to watch myself evolve from a wannabe professional dancer into an author who loves to dance.

This blog has been many things to me, but looking at it today, it is only one thing: a gift. Plain and simple. I will forever remember where I came from and how I got here.

Who I am today has been influenced–in very large part–by my family, both immediate and adoptive. These five years have turned my dearest friends into sisters and brothers. They’ve turned my teachers into mentors. My passion for dance could never have existed or continued to exist without these people.

Here, I must admit that I’m hesitant to post this because I’m terrible at goodbyes. So, I’ll give you an update instead.

I am currently apprenticing with Ms. Sara in Pre-Training, learning the ins and outs of her teaching style that has made such an impact on my life. If I tried to sum up everything she’s taught me… well… I couldn’t. And I’m kind of trying not to cry, so here come the facts. The scary facts first, I suppose.

My family is moving again. Duh duh duhhhh (like you didn’t see that coming, amiright?)

Beginning in October, I will be apprenticing with Praxis, a nine-month-long entrepreneurial program. I plan to take both Advanced Worship and Advanced Modern this coming year, at least until the commute between work and the studio becomes impossible (but hey, you’re welcome to pray with me that that doesn’t happen!).

Happy fact, though: Praxis requires me to have a personal website. So, rather than saying goodbye, just meet me over here. Same me, new feel.

Still, I want my last words here to mean something. I’m 99% sure that this is how I ended my last post, but these are the words in my heart today, so I’m going to say them again.

When you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I HOPE YOU DANCE.

And I’ll do the same.

Know every day that I appreciate you, lovely dancers, more than words could ever express. Thank you for your loyalty and your love. You have mine.

Always,

Aquinnah xoxo

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Recital 2017 (The One where I Graduate)

Even after weeks of careful planning, I still don’t know how to sum up this year… especially Recital. It came as it always does– with great anticipation. And it left as it always does, too– with many tears. For most of an entire day, I actually allowed myself to believe that my life post performance could go on as if nothing had changed, but as I watched my extended family and family friends drive away from their first trip to Colorado in years, I realized that my “normal” is no longer mine. It doesn’t even exist in my world anymore. For 12 years, minus summers, I’ve woken up to school. For several years, I’ve chased that with work. And for nearly 14 years, I’ve danced. And while I will no doubt continue to learn and grow, while being a productive member of society is important to me, while I will still dance–always–these things will never again be what they were before I graduated. Scary, huh?

It’s been a hectic, wonderful, exhausting, glorious month of dancing… and some other great stuff, too, which I’ll talk more about in a different post. I’m so grateful to my family, friends and teachers who unfailingly show me love, grace and support. Without them [and as generic and cheesy as it sounds], I would not be the person I am today. My parents have consistently taught me that change is inevitable, and even though it totally freaks me out, I’m glad to be entering this new chapter with 17 years of real life experience. So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for showing me what it means to keep moving forward and make a life.

Recital itself was, as Moriah put it, “anointed.” Strength and Dignity was the best it had ever been on Friday night. Pulling off such a hugely intricate dance always feels like a divine miracle, and this year was no different. As for Advanced Modern, people are still talking about the sheer lack of bamboo staff-dropping that went down in hushed, reverent tones. Darkness is Losing had the auditorium in tears during Intermission.

And my senior solo happened.

I think I expected to cry. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. It would’ve been too real. Instead, I relished in the intensely unfamiliar feeling of being onstage alone, of telling my story without speaking. I think I was glad when it was over, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to listen to “Welcome Home (You)” again, but I’m just so happy to have done it.

So, all in all, it was a fantastic weekend. But we called it “Show Week.” Yes, dress rehearsals. Yes, Recital. But the stuff in between is what turns friends into family and moments into experiences. On Tuesday, the seniors got together to create our senior gift– decorations for backstage and a note for each person in the Beauty in Motion Showcase. On Friday afternoon, we found out that our studio will be moving to a gorgeous new location next year and threw ourselves a party. Then, the seniors lead a worship time for anyone willing to participate. We prayed, and we cried, and hugged and cried some more. And then we danced, and sang, and screamed and cheered.

After the shows, my family turned my house into a flower garden and stuffed me full of cupcakes. *bows*

I honestly have to wonder, though, why anyone would not choose to dance. At least once. Just for that fraction of a second when time stops, and the whole world is alive with music. Just to be a part of something so different and so moving. That love is ingrained in me; I can’t get rid of it. So, even though I’m cutting my hair short on Thursday because no more ballet bun, I have just one thing left to say.

The next time you get a choice, I hope you dance.

Aquinnah

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How Can It Be?

March? Almost spring [break]? So close to graduation? So close to Recital? Hold on– I’m gonna need to start over.

Where do I start?

In combined Training class last month, we were asked three questions. The first was one I could have written about all day: “What would you tell your younger self?” The second was along the lines of, “What life lesson have you learned through dance?” And the third– “What knowledge would you like to pass on to younger Training students?”

At the end of class, we were given the opportunity to share our responses. Honestly, I didn’t want to start sobbing right then (and I would have), but it’s just me and the words now, so here they are.

  1. God wants all the best for you. It won’t always feel like it. You won’t always want to believe it. But you aren’t always going to be right. And He loves you more than anything. It’s okay. You have nothing to be afraid of. God is eternal. He has made you eternal.
  2. Dance has taught me to keep moving forward, to keep pushing limits that I’ve created for myself. It’s taught me the difference between the things I can change and the things I must accept without fear or shame.
  3. Not every day is easy. Not every day feels like a “dance day.” That’s okay. You are more than today– and you are more than dance. Dance is a wonderful and beautiful gift, but God has given you others.

I appreciated beyond words the heartfelt responses from my dance family. This post is for them. Plies are plies, but we’re ever growing as people, and what a priceless gift it is to be dancing together.

And I guess that brings me back to the title. This song has been played pretty consistently in worship class lately, and it rings beautifully true. The price of freedom is so high, but it has been paid for each and every one of us. Our wrongs–past, present and future–have been righted. How can it be so good?

Graduation is a scary thought. My last Recital at the studio is a simultaneously exciting (oh, oh, oh, we’re using bamboo staffs in Ascension!) and dreadful thought. But my freedom is forever. And I’ll focus on that.

Aquinnah xo

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Recital Central 2017

HAPPY NEW YEAR, LOVES! As you well know, 2016 taught me a great deal, particularly this:

We are how we treat each other.

Here’s to today. Here’s to you. Here’s to humans. Here’s to us. And here’s to Recital.

Beauty in Motion Showcase on May 19th

Dress Rehearsals on May 15th and 17th

1. Strength and Dignity

Combined Training– Miss Erin and Miss Beth

Hair: bun

Attire: pink tights, pink ballet shoes

7. Ascension

Advanced Modern– Ms. Sara

Hair: low side bun

17. Darkness is Losing

Advanced Worship– Ms. Mimi

Hair: high ponytail

Attire: black capri leggings

19. Scandal of Grace

Training 3– Miss Erin

Hair: bun

Attire: black stirrup tights, pink ballet shoes

28. Welcome Home

Senior solo

Hair: Probably a low side bun…. I haven’t quite decided.

Attire: pink tights, pink ballet shoes

Recital 1

1. Strength and Dignity

Recital 2

19. Strength and Dignity

Here come the hair changes.

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Christmas Dances 2016 (in Denial)

Yeah, okay, so I’m in denial that Christmas performances are finished, and fall semester is over, and at this point, my diet pretty much consists of cookies and hot chocolate. But I think I’m finally getting over the tendonitis, and that’s about the best gift I could’ve asked for.

I will never forget the past few weeks. I don’t want to. By the time we performed Carol of the Bells for the last time, I was so shocked, I couldn’t even cry. My last Christmas dance at the studio… over. As I looked around at my beautiful dance family, I knew that I was home. My whole heart was there, and when I leave one day, part of it simply won’t be able to come with me. It’ll stay right there, in the studio, forever. For now, I’m not really ready to swallow that that day will come at all.

Carol of the Bells

To my teachers and sisters: many hugs. Thank you for another crazy year of learning and laughter. Merry Christmas to all! I’ll never be able to thank God enough for giving me each of you.

xo Aquinnah

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The Stuff that Makes Me Happy

Happy belated Thanksgiving, America! At this–the beginning of the most wonderful time of the year–I have ever so many things to be thankful for. I’ve been blessed with a family who loves and supports me, with friends who grow alongside me, with teachers who want to see me improve and with a house that has green gables. I’m able to wake up each morning knowing that I am provided for, cherished and chosen for something that will make the lives of those I touch a little brighter. It is my hope that as the snow starts to fall and this semester ends, those people around me will know how much I support and cherish them.

And now that Thanksgiving Break is coming to a close, I remain grateful, in large part because I can finally play Christmas music without getting mean looks. The lights are up, and we just decorated our first real tree (you know, the kind that makes your house smell like a fir forest) in ten years. Good stuff.

It’s almost December, and that means lots of rehearsals and very little time for shopping. Between Achilles tendonitis for the second year in a row, two viruses and whatever I did to my shins yesterday, it has not been an easy semester. But I’ve learned a lot by watching. I’ve done a lot of praying. I taught myself to accept the FasciaBlaster. It’s frustrating, and painful, and like anyone, I occasionally have to hit the snooze button on my alarm. I made myself new boundaries, even when I wanted to push forward, and I’m glad I did. Knowing how to be kind to myself makes me feel like I’m doing something right.

In the coming weeks, I’ll be performing “Do You See what I See?” (worship), “Sweet Little Jesus Boy” (ballet) and “Carol of the Bells” (modern). On Friday, the Training Division and Advanced Modern will be performing locally, which I’m very excited about.

In other news, I’m finished choreographing my senior solo, “Welcome Home” and have picked a costume. In fact, all of my Recital costumes have been posted. Take a look…!

senior-solo-costume
Welcome Home (with pink ballet flats)
adv-worship-17
Advanced Worship
adv-modern-17
Advanced Modern
t-17
Combined Training

Aren’t they lovely? I’m thrilled. Our Training 3 costume will be black tights, a black leotard and a burgundy skirt with a belt, if I remember correctly.

Almost time for Rudolph. Have a wonderful week, beautiful dancers.

xo Aquinnah

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God Does Know How to Tie Shoes

m14-1Nancy White Carlstrom first asked of me the question, “Does God know how to tie shoes?” to which I astutely replied, “I don’t know; I’ll have to finish the book.”

I was lying in bed several weeks ago when thoughts of the horrors which Chemistry inflicts upon the average high school student, punctuated by a comfortable feeling that I was soon to be rid of it for a few weeks of travel, were all at once interrupted by another, less familiar idea. Yes, Aquinnah, I do know how to tie shoes.

That was a nice thought… for a four-year-old. The God of the universe can tie shoes. So can I. But could He survive Chemistry and still make it to ballet class on time (and with a scrap of sanity)? Come to think of it, could He fill out those college applications, sitting in a dauntingly organized pile upon my desk? They would not have been there anyway, if not for that October morning of late when all I could think was, I have to go. I have to go to college. I want to go to college. Could He fit in 30 minutes of piano practice, getting up the guts to put that driver’s license to use and actually drive, working, eating, sleeping, laundry-doing, reading, writing, unpacking, packing…?

Yes, Aquinnah, I do know how to tie shoes.

Great.

So, I managed my list as best as I could, reminding myself from time to time that God can tie shoes and wondering what exactly that meant.

I toured three very different colleges over the course of about a week. I was all prepared to Rory Gilmore up some pro-con lists, to find my future home, but when it came down to it, I knew. I know that when the time comes, my home will find me. They always have. I’ve put my brain into those applications, but my heart has stitched itself into the facts on its own. It can’t help it!

I was appreciating a sunrise over the lake near my grandpa’s house, letting go of that which is out of my hands, when it finally came to me. I’ll give you a hint.

God knows how to tie shoes.

The simplest of simple, human duties– and He knew. He cared. And if God cared about tying shoes, the simple duty, the running-out-the-door science, then He cared about the overwhelming death of that one book character that was breaking my heart, the disorganization of traveling and that little spark of hope inside of me that dared to believe that I really wanted that one thing that I’d been afraid of for so long and that had found me anyway.

So, as I read Carlstrom’s famous question again, I say, “Yes, God does know how to tie shoes.”

In the words of Anne Shirley, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

Aquinnah