Few things have the shaped me into the person I am like seven years of ballet has, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. Ballet has, in a few years, instilled rectitude in both posture and work ethic like nothing else has ever been able to for me. It has taught me in the words of Agnes De Mille “Ballet …never becomes easy; it becomes possible.” And further more possibly possible, until saved into my muscle memory to be recalled at a second’s notice, be it on stage or just a simple exercise across the floor.
It has taught me that my best can always be better, that there will always be room for improvement, due to the unnatural lines the body seems to, to the outside eye, accomplish with relative ease. But in truth requires immense strength and practice. It has taught me that if I want something, such as turnout, I had to work for it. Praying and wishing just does not really work with ballet, of course you can pray or wish for a good show, but for better technique takes work. To get my turnout took hours of stretching and pushing myself to near breaking point so that today I can turnout almost past 180 degrease.
It taught me that love-hate relationships are found everywhere. For instance the love-hate relationship with my pointe shoes, I loved the way my feet looked when wrapped in the pink satin and wood, but hated the torturous pain I surrendered my arches to early every Saturday morning. Or with performing, I loved the feeling of displaying my talent, of making people laugh or cry or smile, but hated the days and nights yielded to the purpose of rehearsals and run-throughs.