That Delicate Balance

Last night's class was good, a nice even score between things I did terribly and things I managed to do well or things Ms. Mylene says I'm improving in.

I couldn't coordinate my arms with the legwork in our tombe pas de bourree combi, I still can't get down in splits, I keep sickling, my head is looking the wrong way during some of the barre work (I'm mostly looking at the others because I forget what's next)...Ugh, and all that jazz. Teacher spent the entire of the developpes (three whole exercises) sitting at my feet telling me to turn out and straighten my working leg. Ugh.

But even when you feel like your legs are morphing into lead, even when you want to cry at what seems to be a hopeless case, you keep going on. Between mistakes or just simply looking terrible, it gets really depressing and one can find herself sitting on the floor, cradling her head in her hands (like Diana Vishneva is doing in the pic). But, as Ms. Mylene says, you can get up on your shaky knees and give it a dozen more tries or you can sit there and wonder what your potential is.

And every now and then, you do something right or you improve on something. And in my case, Ms. Mylene makes sure that she points out the good as well as the bad. She congratulated me on being more stable, on keeping my focus even when she's by my side correcting me or when she praises me, on remembering the steps even when she got her verbal reminders wrong, on remembering the previous center exercises, for pushing myself in the training exercises for fouettes and chainnes, for remembering to spot and for not watching myself in the mirror all the time.

And when you get good news, you get a renewed sense of hope. I CAN be better. I WILL be better.

And the night ended with arather novel experience. In class, we all look like we're poised and graceful. Then you start the commute home. I rode on the back of a tricycle last night, clumsily hanging on for dear life, all the exhaust in the traffic-choked Capitol Hills Drive calling on an asthma attack in me. I didn't look so beautiful, graceful, or poised when just moments ago I did. I had to laugh.