Lucky Me!

For years, although I have always believed in myself and my chosen career path, I have been under the scrutiny of those who believe somehow that I am “lucky” to do what I do. I am very fortunate, but that is by choice…
If “lucky” is working all hours of the night sometimes, not getting paid for months at a time, having a career that requires that my physical being is functional beyond what it wants to be at this age, a career that wreaks havoc on personal relationships due to the its demanding nature (did you read that 43.3 % of dancers/choreographers are bound to get divorced?…uh huh),
AND
that I get to meet the most amazing people and develop friendships that last a lifetime, that I am surrounded by music and movement and art…AND I get to create it with other “lucky” dancers, choreographers, artists and thespians,and that the people who are in my life and I in theirs are open to everything…typically not close minded and are emotionally in touch…I LOVE that part!
Yes, then I guess I am lucky….But it’s all a choice…
But remember, the next time you say that to me, that you made a choice too…and you should also feel lucky every day…

jUst WoRk IT ouT

Recently, I was given a gym membership as a gift. I was thrilled. The idea that I could potentially transform¬†this post menopausal dancer’s body into a work of art was entrancing. Mind you, I’ve never really exercised in this sense. Almost every day of my life, since the age of 5, has been devoted to my daily regime of plies, tendus and various motions with the intent of moving to music. Not exercise. Dance. Joy. Pain. The Zone. Nirvana.¬†

I’m game. Let’s do this gym thing. Ha!

I think, these machines are the enemy. I need an ally. Yes. Personal trainer-my crutch. I feel ridiculous. Intimidated. These gym people know what they are doing. And they are serious. And I am paralyzed and awkward.

How is it that, for almost 5 decades I have performed and taught in front of hundreds of thousands of people, that I now am so self conscious about being in the middle of the gym, in front of all these professional gym people and doing gym things, that I feel ‘stage fright’…really? I don’t think I’ve felt like this since I wasn’t chosen to be on ANY team during PE in 4th grade!

Once my trainer sessions are up…only 2 left…then what? I’m terrified. Taking off the training wheels is going to be like a C-section for me. But, I am motivated by the desire for my 23 year old gluteus maximus and striationous thighs. Count down to trainer weening…I. Can. Do. This. i think…or I could just go dancing…