Dancing with the General
Some people can change a whole room by their presence.
That's what she did yesterday.
My regular new acquaintances weren't at ballet. But she was.
I had never met her before, and as I took my place at the barre I felt uncomfortable, like I had no business sharing this space with her.
Was it the way she literally looked down her nose when she talked to the teacher? Or maybe it was the way she strutted like a General across the floor, shoulders back, each sway of the hip a declaration or a dare.
I felt tears rise. How could it be that I wanted to cry like a little child and run out of the room? I purposed to ignore her, but it was work. I accomplished less in her presence. I thought maybe I should salute her and say, "Yes, General Noriega."
It was a reminder to me of how fragile beginnings can be. And how we must not let things get in our way. And how we must try not to get in the way of others who are beginning things that long ago became second nature to us.
Tomorrow, if The General is there, I think I will pretend I'm a child picking daisies and offering them to the air.
That's what she did yesterday.
My regular new acquaintances weren't at ballet. But she was.
I had never met her before, and as I took my place at the barre I felt uncomfortable, like I had no business sharing this space with her.
Was it the way she literally looked down her nose when she talked to the teacher? Or maybe it was the way she strutted like a General across the floor, shoulders back, each sway of the hip a declaration or a dare.
I felt tears rise. How could it be that I wanted to cry like a little child and run out of the room? I purposed to ignore her, but it was work. I accomplished less in her presence. I thought maybe I should salute her and say, "Yes, General Noriega."
It was a reminder to me of how fragile beginnings can be. And how we must not let things get in our way. And how we must try not to get in the way of others who are beginning things that long ago became second nature to us.
Tomorrow, if The General is there, I think I will pretend I'm a child picking daisies and offering them to the air.
Labels: art pilgrimage, ballet, spiritual practice
posted by L.L. Barkat at
6:57 PM
5 Comments:
Offer her a poem. You know, like the young woman recently in Canada at the G20 meeting who went up to the gas-masked police holding roses and showing her bright eyes. She stared 'em down.
Then do as O'Donohue wrote: "Bless the space between" you. Here are a few of his words on beginnings:
". . . Beginnings often frighten us because they seem like lonely voyages into the unknown. Yet, in truth, no beginning is empty or isolated. . . A beginning is ultimately an invitation to open toward the gifts and growth that are stored up for us. To refuse to begin can be an act of great self-neglect.
". . . There can be no growth if we do not remain open and vulnerable to what is new and different. . .
". . .a beginning. . . is an opening for surprises. . . ."
Wish you wonderful moments "after" the beginning.
Surprises sometimes have the way of coming in intimidating packages :)
Courage and passion,
Susan
I've been there. New, and intimidated by those who were so...other. So far beyond.
Yes, "a reminder of how fragile beginnings can be. And how we must not let things get in our way. And how we must try not to be in the way of others who are beginning things that long ago became second nature to us."
I like the idea of the daisies.
I loved hearing your very youthful voice today. Talking with you always makes me younger.
Thank you all for your thoughts. You make me smile.
Funny, the teacher happened to tell us to "gather flowers" yesterday during the renversez gesture. :)
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home