Enough

It’s been a long time since last time I wrote here. Or wrote anything, really. I am in the skies again, travelling south this time. Short break from the routine. A kind of break I haven’t had since I became me. All this time I wrote here, and never mentioned something that supported me all these days, still does; fills me with purpose and makes me feel actually.. alive? In my body? In the moment? Is that how being mindful feels?

Did you always like yourself? No. - The podcast wispering in my ears. I listened to that specific episode countless times, it feels so close. “A Seal Called Noon”. How do you become good at being with yourself? Well, at first you have to like yourself, if you don’t like something you aren’t going to do it. So you need to find something you like about yourself, and be more of it. Be more of it. Okay. Here we go.

I discovered dance by accident, same time I discovered clubbing. I was …31? It took hours and several bottles of vodka-mate to let go of at least some of my reservations then, and then time disappeared. I was moving with the beat, probably looking more like a teenage girl. And I loved it. I went out again, only now by myself, and again, and found myself on the dance floor every weekend for a few months that summer. Until sleepless nights caught up with me.

[…turbulence…]

That shake almost made me vomit at the keyboard, so I had to take a break. A few days of break. In the skies again, yet going back. Writing because I am (partially) bored to death, and (partially) because I want to talk. To pronounce. To scream some things and wisper others. I am enough - she told me this has to be a prerequisite to everything, an axiom, a given. She said I don’t even have to believe in it - because it is true, even if I don’t. How do I carry it with me?

How is it to be with yourself? Oh it’s challenging! again that podcast, it brings me to tears very much every time. Soothing, familiar, kind. To myself. She found a way to like herself, maybe I can, too. I’d very much like to stop dreading most weekdays. That imposter syndrome that lasts 5 days a week and paralyzes everything it touches.

I am enough. I am enough. I am enough. Yes, that’s today’s mantra. I hope I’ll keep repeating still. Are you in ballet? The highlight of this trip. Four days and five nights at the seaside resort. [Ocean in the window is being replaced by the land. Spain?]. Four days of intensive gym sessions, lazy naps in the shade, some not-so-long-walks, and dust. Lost and lots of dust, apparently from Sahara. That sensation, going outside and feeling like the room needs cleaning and airing. Except, that’s all the air you are going to get.

Are you in Ballet? and all I did is a few stretches. I wish I were. I really do. So, back to dance? Clubbing didn’t agree with me long-term - my body couldn’t handle it. A friend rescued me: Do you know about Gaga? The lady? Not the lady. Weird at first, sometimes chaotic, very somatic, hour long movement session with one goal - to explore movement, and to find new ways to enjoy it, even when it’s hard. After only a few months Gaga became a lifeline. My weeks, previously centered around work and “rest” started to revolve around my studio’s schedule. If I work, I have to dance. To cope. To find that joy, again and again. To stop thinking, to start feeling, to shake like spaghetti in boiling water like noone’s watching, and to watch how others shake, inspire from them, take their movement and make it mine.

I am enough. Then there was another break. Why don’t I try all those other kinds of dancing people are talking about? Contemporary, jazz, ballet. Vocabulary. Form. If you want to have specific form, you have to train specific form. Ballet. Ordered, predictable, beautiful. Light. The whole point of ballet is to make those very hard things we are doing look very light. She told me I am a heavy person. I am, often. So, ballet as a metaphor on life: how do I make this hard and heavy life seem lighter?

I am enough. Tendus, releves, and rond de jambes feel so connected to my emotions now. How does one dance when they are angry? Try breaking the bar with your fist. Yet, make everything else seem light. Are you in ballet? I guess I am, in my own ballet-of-life. I dance five days a week now, only stopping to rest so I can dance more. And it changes everything. My body feels different. I think different. I feel different. Now I know what to do when I don’t know what to do - stretch. Or train that pirouette. Or do some more plies. Just keep moving. Even when lying in bed. One leg goes left, the other stretches down, the spine clicks and clacks a little, the arms stretch out, and then fold, everything folds until you are small, ready to expand in another direction.

I am enough. Or I will be. As long as I move. Will I be enough if I stop moving? Will I feel my own shape if I lose it? She said, it’s a given.