On Dancing Through A Pandemic. Part 2.

Over a month into all of this craziness, and I still don't really know where to start.  

Anyway, here we are.  Here I am, checking in with you again.  We’ve moved from hoping this would just be a temporary 3-4 week situation to feeling like this is maybe…permanent?  Well, indefinite at the least.  

It's been a few weeks of learning how to live this strange life without human contact, and maybe you’re starting to feel slightly less of one thing and more of another.  Maybe you’ve gotten through to unemployment.  Maybe not (I haven’t).  Maybe your college classes are back in full swing online.  Maybe you’ve found an online barre that actually works in your living space.  Maybe you’ve kicked your bookshelf one too many times and have stopped taking class altogether.  Maybe you’ve picked up a new hobby.  Maybe your motivation is waning.  Maybe your patience with your kids or partner or pet or yourself is wearing thin.  Maybe seeing everyone in masks on the street is increasing your anxiety.  Maybe wearing a mask in public is keeping you feeling safe and sane.  

Maybe you need a reminder in this moment that we still don’t know anything, and wherever you are is still ok.  That this feels so hard because we didn’t *just* lose our jobs.  That overnight, we lost our way of BEING: our income, our way of relating to the world, our community and our identity.  And more than anything, losing our identity is the most disconcerting.  

Identity is the thing that grounds us.  The thing that reminds us who we are and why we wake up in the morning.  If you’ve ever been injured, you know how deep a loss it is to not be able to dance for a period.  When you’ve identified as one thing your entire life, it is a massive blow when it’s suddenly gone.  

I AM is the single most powerful statement we have.  And if certain actions or routines are tied up in that and are suddenly taken from us, our I AM becomes….blank.  It becomes impossible to complete the sentence.  And now, not only have we lost our identity as an individual, but we’ve lost the identity of the entire community, the entire dance industry. 

We don’t know when we’ll be able to dance again—in a studio, on stage, in front of a live audience.  And for many of us, it’s the live interactions with other dancers that we crave.  Dancing around in our living room can only take us so far.  We want the connection, the community.  Without that level of human contact, we can move all we want, and still not feel connected to the DANCER part of our identity. 

Here’s the important thing to remember about I AM: it is actually already a complete sentence.  We don't always have to fill in the blank.  And if being a dancer right now is frustrating you because you are unable to be a dancer in the way that is familiar, take some time to just BE.  Be YOU.  And discover who you are underneath your arabesque.  Whatever that means today.  It could be watching a new show, reading a new book, trying a new class.  It could be laying in bed and staring out the window.  

I promise you this: there are indeed other parts of you waiting to be nurtured.  Which doesn’t mean you suddenly have to do all the new things in order to find it.  You don’t have to just go get a new passion or take up baking or puzzling or drawing to force yourself to find the “other” things to fill the void.  It means to get curious.  It means to try something, without attachment.  To be with yourself.  To get to know yourself and what’s important to you. To discover your own innate strengths, your values.  What made you start dancing?  Why haven’t you quit yet?  You might be surprised by what you discover.

Every other thing that brings joy to my life came about during a period when I was frustrated with being a dancer, either when I was injured or on the verge of quitting because it had been too long in between jobs.  And every time I learned about a new part of myself or became a part of a new community, I fell back in love with dancing.  Those other things, those other people I met, gave me that much more to dance for.

That’s how I found aerial arts over ten years ago.  And rock climbing four years ago.  And life coaching.  And figure skating.  And board games.  And personal training.  And knitting.  And journaling.  And traveling.  And hiking.  And meditating.  These new interests and new communities helped me see what was important to me about dancing, and that I could find those values outside the studio—community, compassion, connection, adventure, passion, ambition, playfulness, learning.  These values suddenly became as much a part of my identity as my dancing.

By expanding my passion, I am no longer completely attached to—and reliant upon—being a dancer as my sole identity.  And now whenever I can’t dance, I have plenty of other things to keep me grounded.  

The dance world will indeed look different in the next few months.  And it is up to us to re-build the dance world to serve us…the dancers.  If we use this uncertain time to strengthen our identities, our own self-awareness and self-compassion, we will be better equipped to navigate what is to come.  We know that art endures, that dance is a necessary part of our world’s culture.  Dancers are nothing if not resilient.  We will get through.  And ultimately, (even though it doesn’t feel like it right now) we will THRIVE.   

In the meantime, talk to me.  Talk to each other.  We’ve still got lots of ups and downs to navigate.  So tell me, how are you feeling in your quarantine?  Have you started to explore other interests?  (It’s ok if you haven’t!!)  What are you learning about yourself?  (It’s ok if the answer is nothing.)