The lights glint off the hardwood floors and reflect back from two walls of mirrors. Across the room, the black barre beckons from below a thin line of windows.
Light chatter penetrates the silence as individuals begin to lace up their shoes and perform the routine ritual of stretching. Sweaters are cast off with slight shivers and shoes click as the dancers make their way to the barre, sure in their knowledge that the winter chill in the air will disperse in minutes.
I take my usual spot in the back corner of the room, carefully setting one hand on the barre, and place my ankles together, toes pointing to opposite sides in first position. Ms. Suzanne, tiny, spry and energetic for any age, shows us the first combination, a pattern of pliés and tondues. So class begins.
My mom enrolled me in ballet classes when I was 5 years old because I wouldn’t stop spinning circles around the kitchen as she tried to cook dinner. Thirteen years later, I danced my final class as I prepared to leave home, and the Detwiler School of Dance, to go off to college.
One of my only regrets from college is that I was unable to find a new class to continue my lessons. I remember dance so vividly: spotting on the old clock as I completed double turns, the click of the wooden stick as I learned to fouetté, the swoosh of the leather soled shoes on the floor during a rond de jambe, the excitement I felt the day my first pair of pointe shoes arrived, the disappointment at the realization that I couldn’t wear them right away because I had to sew on the laces, the 15 bobbi pins I religiously used to pull my bangs off my face, even though strands were always falling out by the end of the class. Even though I have never found a class, I have brought my pink tights, black sleeveless leotard, sheer black skirt and supple pink leather soft shoes to school with me every year.
The lessons I learned from, and the love I have for, ballet have never been far out of focus.
Ballet teaches strict discipline, seeking perfect technique and lines. It teaches you to push yourself, to lift your leg higher, to perform the beat quicker, to control your turns. But it also rewards you for your hard work and your effort. It feeds the soul, releases stress and tension in the body the individual so often abuses. It sets the spirit free as it soaks up the euphoria that accompanies a flight through the air or the perfect finish of a pirouette.
But perhaps its most important lesson is that of balance. You cannot be a ballerina unless you can learn to balance. You will never dance on pointe if you cannot remain steady as you move on your toes. You will never finish a turn upright if you do not keep your eye on a target and keep your balance in check.
But balance is not only important in the physical aspect of our lives. To be happy and healthy, balance is vital in many areas. We must balance work and play. We must balance the influences we allow in our lives, with a few to keep our heads in the clouds, but also a few to keep our feet on the ground. We must balance the attention we give friendships and relationships. We must balance healthy food and habits with little indulgences. We must balance our finances, lest we slip into a hole. We occasionally walk a fine line between societal and moral obligations, and we must learn to balance in that situation as well. And we must keep a careful balance within ourselves, neither letting the negative constantly bring us down, nor letting the positive consistently disregard reality.
However, we must also make sure that this quest for balance does not overwhelm, or it will defeat the purpose.
When you land that perfect leap, don’t be afraid to soak up that feeling and smile.
One Small Journey 