Liquid Sunshine

"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet."  -Roger Miller

                              "Being soaked alone is cold.  Being soaked with your best friend is an                                     adventure." -Emily Wing Smith, Back When You Were Easier to Love

The red canvas of my shoes is stiff and unforgiving as I pick them up, two fingers at the heel, and put them in my closet.

Yesterday I helped a dear friend of mine ship a few boxes of her life to Texas.  She is preparing to move this weekend, driving over a series of days to return home.  I rode the relatively short distance to her house with my windows half way down, watching the fog in the mountains.  The day was gray but warm, as if it took no notice of the date on the calendar.  My heart was light, in spite of the overwhelmingly long to-do list that loomed over me, and my free hand was keeping time to the music on the window frame.

I had known the day was coming.  Our relationship is unique and my life has been intertwined with Beks for a few years; we are alike in more ways than not.  I knew this little town couldn't hold her big heart forever.  She recently settled into the idea of moving and I never doubted her decision - it's time.  The last month has been full of excitement and preparation and bittersweet conversations as I know she'll only be around for a bit longer.

I arrived at her house about 9am, accompanied by a light sprinkle.  In the midst of packing tape, address labels and sharpie markers, little attention was paid to the weather.  Not long before we had prepared to load the cars, a loud clap of thunder drew our attention outside - a full blown rainstorm, blowing in suddenly, wasting no time with pleasantries.

Because of other obligations we couldn't wait long to move our packing party to the post office.  Despite the weather, we took multiple trips across wet grass and pavement, balancing boxes and tugging on doors, running and laughing, trying not to fall on wet leaves and concrete floors.  We both emerged soaking wet, tracking in leaves, water running down our faces and changing the color of our clothes.  I'll admit, I had to fight the urge to stomp through the little rivers that appeared down the sides of the streets, and I marveled at the movement of the water as it collected and spilled around the tires of parked cars.  What is it about rain that encourages the child within us to be silly, to laugh and dance?

I will likely not see Beks again before she leaves, but I couldn't think of a better way to send her off.  As we left the post office and the rain began to let up (of course!), tears made new trails on our already wet faces as we hugged and said goodbye.  I know it's not really goodbye - you can never say goodbye to someone who has left such an imprint on your heart - but rather "see you later".

Prima Ballerina

I did it, I'm a teacher!  Ok, not officially but for the last two Mondays I've taught a group of 17 people basic ballet.  And, not surprisingly, I love it!  The group varies so much (from ages 13 to 62) and there are so many different life stories (one girl danced till she was 17, two are cancer survivors), but I feel so honored to have them all in class together.  They've really surprised me and have not only picked up on moves really quickly but been really supportive toward me as a teacher - I didn't hide the fact that this was my first time teaching.

I'm still trying to figure out exactly what I'm doing, but the goal of the class isn't to have seventeen people emerge as these graceful and perfect ballerinas.  Rather I hope to bring some of the beauty of the art into the lives of these people and work with them to show them how to use and celebrate their bodies.  The human body is an amazing instrument - I don't know why more people aren't dancing.

While this is clearly a class about the participants, it really is a class about me too.  Most of what we've learned is really basic, but to me it feels huge to teach it.  I don't normally get nervous before teaching a class (I guess part of me is naturally inclined towards being in front of people) but I got really nervous before our first class last week.  Maybe it's because dance was such an important part of my life for a long time.  I started dancing when I was 13 and kept going until around age 20, taking seven classes a week at my busiest.  Part of me has always regretted my decision to stop training.  I was by no means the best, but I tried hard and wanted to learn and put visible heart and emotion into every practice and performance.  For years I've wanted to go back but some injuries toward the end of my training convinced me I would never be as good as I once was, and that I was too old to get back into it.

Teaching this class has helped me realize it might be that I'm not technically as good as I was before, but that heart and emotion is still there, and few things give me as much joy as music, an open studio, and some ballet shoes.  Perhaps this was what I needed to start stepping out and stop being afraid of what might be and learn to embrace what is.