When being a part of an artistic endeavor like concert dance, there is a great deal of time spent developing the choreography called, "The Process". I'm not sure who coined the phrase, but I didn't start using it until a few years back while teaching dance to college students. Essentially, "The Process" is the amount of time the choreographer takes to create a piece. It can take days, weeks, months, or even years to develop and put on stage a cohesive piece of choreography. I absolutely love the process of creating choreography, but I didn't always feel this way. Truthfully, "The Process" can look very different depending on whether you're the director/choreographer or you're the dancer.
As a dancer, I couldn't wait to be on stage performing for an audience. I LOVED to perform. However, the countless hours in a studio seemed tedious to me, at times. Don't get me wrong, I loved taking dance classes. I loved learning technique and testing my abilities. Walking into a dance studio, the smell of the wood floor, the feel of the barre, the shimmer of the lights reflecting off the mirror, always make me feel like the little girl that fell in love with ballet, so many years ago. But there are also many memories of insecurity, frustration, and physical pain. There is a lot that goes on mentally while learning someone else's movement. There's a certain amount of give and take that's involved. Not only do you have to learn the sequence of steps, but in the correct timing and with the proper nuances while portraying the emotion that the choreographer envisions. Sometimes it comes easy, and sometimes it's painfully difficult. If you have one tiny amount of self-doubt, the task feels almost impossible. Add into that any degree of temperament from the choreographer or dancer, and it can even feel like a ticking time bomb. Due to my own tenacity and perfectionist ideals, I could be a very temperamental dancer in the process. It's not that I meant to be disrespectful, but I was strong-willed and insecure. I was like the mare that doesn't want to be tamed. I would sometimes be yielding, then lazy, then spirited, then defiant. I honestly don't know why any choreographer put up with me????? All I can say now is that I was being chased by my own demons, and wish I could go back and learn it all again.
I didn't really start to enjoy the process until a few years ago. It's amazing how things transfer into your everyday life. I think I've struggled through every personal phase in my life, fretting over why things didn't turn out the way I planned, or why couldn't this have happened sooner....the list is endless. It took a small, almost insignificant moment for the epiphany to occur. I was making breakfast for my eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, who was probably 5 years old at the time. I handed her the plate with a knife and a fork and asked her if she'd like to cut up her own waffle, and commented on how she would be such a "big girl". When I came back to see how she liked her breakfast, she was sitting there with tears streaming down her face, her waffle left untouched. When I asked her what was the matter, she explained to me through her tears that she couldn't cut her waffle. I saw, in that moment, her sense of failure. And with tears welled up in my own eyes, I told her that if you try something and don't succeed, it's called practice.
Since that moment, I've learned to enjoy the process. It has been such a huge relief. John Lennon once wrote, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." Now as I journey through life, I try and remind myself to not make too many insurmountable expectations. And by doing so, I hope that I can enjoy the process both in and out of the studio....
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