Category: goals

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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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A New Beginning

M12Though a time of fallen things, this autumn will represent a new beginning for me. A new home on a new street (and just three minutes from someone very dear to my heart), new school courses and dance classes, new teachers and new perspectives are all just around the bend. My writing style seems to be changing against my will, my thought process evolving into one that is incessantly grasping for more– more answers, more knowledge, more patience, more peace. I want to be fluent in French, and play the piano and read books until my eyes pop out. And way ahead of the infamous Board, I have my college list made, my essays drafted, and one day soon, I’ll be ready to audition for a certain dance department. I’m locking the gate after the horse, but I haven’t posted quite as often this year as I have in years past, so I suppose I’m making up for it.

Change isn’t easy. But I’m ready for it this time.

In all reality, I was not expecting to update this blog. I wasn’t ready. I would never have been ready. But circumstances outside of my control have lead me here–to this fresh journal space–and I’m so pleased to be sharing with you the new Dancing Angel. My writings of the past five years remain here, though my formatting up until this post might look a little wonky. My ramblings and my pictures are intact, and you’re here, and that’s what matters.

Take a look around! There’s a lot to see. If you’ve never visited before, welcome! It’s so good to have you. My bio and contact information are in the left sidebar, along with my archives. And there’re a lot of good books and songs listed, too. You’ll notice that I am no longer connected to Google+, but never mind that. New beginnings all around, and here’s to them!

“It’s been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will.” – Anne Shirley

xo Aquinnah 

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Five Years of Ceaseless Adventure

I want to go. And I want to be human.

The beauty and eternal wonder of this earth–such a colorful, growing, changing earth–inspire my own creativity as the Creator makes for me a new adventure every single day. My name was written on His heart before I knew it myself, and I wanted to know it. My dreams, desires, fears and idiosyncrasies are always teaching me more and more about the living, breathing Aquinnah, in the midst of space and time. Like the earth, I’m always growing, always changing and adapting. It’s not always easy, not always fun– but it is a part of being human, and I am. I am only human. And I’m proud of that.

It is an overwhelming joy to wake up to a family who loves and cares for me, who is near even when far and who inspires me to continue growing and persevering, even when it’s hard. It is an enormous blessing to have friends who are honest with me, who stand up for me and who put up with my oddities on a daily basis in person, over the phone and through mail. It is an honor to learn from teachers who invest so much into making me stronger, healthier and generally happier. It is mind-boggling to know that you, my readers, from all over the world, have continued to read and support me for the last five years of my journey. I could never, never thank each beautiful person in my life enough for being. Just being. Being themselves, being in my heart and being human with me.

We survived Cecchetti exams, assistant teaching, Nutcracker, master classes and intensives, five pairs of pointe shoes, photo shoots, uncountable rehearsals and performances, sickness and injury, Firebird, an internship, tens of books and four birthdays. We thrived. And we’re not finished.

I live to scream without making a sound, moving out of time and into music. I love it. I wanted to come, and I wanted to dance. I want to inspire people as they inspire me.

So, thank you for five years of scribblings, and excitement, and worry and triumph. Thank you for listening without hearing my voice and following along with me as I continue to grow. This blog is a piece of my world– memories. And I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about them almost as much as I’ve loved living and writing about them.

Happy summer, lovelies! Twenty-three hours until dance. Ceaseless adventure.

This post is dedicated to the 125,000 beautiful babies who said, “I want to go,” and, today, were robbed of their chance and to Miss Bethanny, who told me to put chocolate milk in my cereal.

Much love,

I11.1