I will be back on the East Coast for a weekend near the middle of next month, and I was poking around on Google to see what was going on, what I might do for additional amusement. I have a precious Friday morning all to myself before I am launched into more parental stuff. There are museums, my favorite cheese shop...
It caught my eye immediately: Master class with Suzanne Farrell Ballet. Intermediate and advanced adult students.
What wouldn't I give?
I have an old and comfortable pair of toe shoes that I couldn't quite bear to get rid of when I gave up pointe ten years ago after an ankle injury. They are a small reminder. Even as a young child, I wanted to take ballet, and like the piano lessons I also coveted, was never allowed to do so. So, when I got a job washing dishes at a restaurant at 16, I immediately went to the local ballet school and signed up for classes to supplement the lessons in modern dance I'd wangled my way into at my high school. It didn't matter how tired I was; it didn't matter how many hours I'd already danced that day, how much homework I had, I never missed one of my 7pm classes.
Tenacity granted me pointe shoes.
For a moment, I allowed myself the possibility of taking that class. It's an opportunity that I would have sacrificed a good deal for. I'd watched Suzanne Farrell for years, studying her technique through the auspices of PBS' Live at Lincoln Center. To be able to take a class with her company...I could feel the smooth wood of a barre under my hand, hear an upright piano pound out beats to the tune of Mozart.
I smiled at the thought, and a little regretfully, closed the window.
No more barres. Just another bar in my cage.
This is the place where tenacity does not win the day.
Still, half a day to myself. Time that is mine. Time for a small adventure. And perhaps that is where tenacity does win.
Go listen to some good music: "The Anarchist" from the album Clockwork Angels by Rush. I was bemused to discover that some people believe I have fallen into the Slough of Despond where my...inability...is concerned. True, I am not happy about it. True, I force feed myself perspective, and you might not believe the lengths I've gone in this regard. But mostly? Where what I can and can't do comes into play, I live in an ecstasy of rage. No acceptance, no bargaining, no peace. Just sheer rage.