When a little girl, I longed to be a ballet dancer.
There was no money for lessons, so I watched wistfully as my friends tied on their shoes and went to class in a dusty school gymnasium on Saturday mornings. A Canadian girl, I fantasized about auditioning and making it into the Royal Winnipeg Ballet School.
Then I became the girl who was smart and studious but not really considered athletic. I gave up my dream of ever dancing.
This is why I love watching people who have never danced–indeed, who have developed a deep insecurity about their capacity to dance–being swept away, thoroughly transformed by the experience of learning to dance later in life. In my heart, I believe that I could yet find myself putting on ballet shoes. Though at my age, it certainly seems more and more unlikely.
Perhaps this is the year when we will finally go to see a ballet. I have been waiting for just the right performance and just the right company at just the right time. I want to be enraptured by it. I want to be breathless with the experience.
One year at Christmas, Jeremy acknowledged the dancer in my heart with a beautiful ballerina tree ornament. Precious, she is. And a reminder that my soul dances. Even in midwinter.
How could it help but do so?
I hear in my heart, always, so much beautiful music. And I simply can’t ignore it. So I dance through life.
Now ask yourself:
“What is in my soul? What part of me longs to dance?
If I was not meant to dance, why do I hear so much music?”