everything is beautiful…at the ballet

I used to dance.

Ballet, modern, jazz…i danced. I don’t anymore. I got busy, I got old, I forgot.

I went to a ballet performance last night…the first one in a very long time. I had abandoned the entire art form for quite some time for unknown reasons. I know I love dance (don’t get me started on So You Think You Can Dance) but I had forgotten just how much I miss it.

I’m sitting there last night and the lights go down and the curtain goes up on this lone male dancer with his back to us. And he reaches his arm out, rotates a wrist and plies. I see every muscle in his body react and I felt it in every essence of me. My body ached because it remembered…I remember. The power I had, the control, the passion, the ability to exist on a stage for 40 minutes and feel nothing but you. The lights, the music, the breath, being part of a performance…part of the production.

I don’t suspect I will ever feel that way about anything ever again.

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