I was recently asked what values were important to my while I cultivated my brand. Sounds like a pretty dry question, right? I hope you find my answer un-dry. In fact, I hope you find it downright moist. My eyes get moist every time I think about it.
Many years ago, I attended a dance teacher conference where hundreds of dance teachers attended to find inspiration and class ideas. It was in one of those huge hotel convention centers where the air is not real, and the lights are glaring and the personalities are all on display. Not exactly “real life-ish”.
During a break, I sat on one of those hard benches in a hallway where no strangers would ever find themselves willingly seated together. But sure enough, a woman sat carefully and slowly right beside me. She looked exhausted. And she looked right at me, made eye contact.
“Are you okay?” I asked because she clearly wasn’t okay.
She said she was there to try to get back to life, back to her dance business; that her daughter had died 3 years ago and she has been unable to work.
She explained that she wanted to sit beside me because she felt she knew me. I had a dance video business back then, and she had purchased many of my instructional videos to help her get back to teaching. I’m sure I audibly gulped as I imagined her sitting in her living room watching me on a TV screen saying things like “it’s so important to point your foot on that kick-ball-change” while she grieved her daughter and contemplated the relative importance of a pointed foot.
She went on to tell me that during the last few years, her daughter had actually visited her many times. Her daughter wanted her to go on living, be happy. They apparently had conversations.
I was mystified. I asked her “when your daughter visits you, what does she look like? Is she a child again? Or the age when you last saw her? Are you are seeing the invisible?” She looked confused for a second and then said “ I don’t see that. I just see HER”.
Gulp. Again.
Fast forward many years where I now stand in the wings of theaters most every weekend and watch dancers on stage. It’s my job to watch them dance, to pass out awards. I own a competition company where I try to convince dancers that it’s more than a trophy they should go after. It’s a losing battle. I feel like Don Quixote.
Standing in those theaters, the air is not right, the lights are glaring and the personalities are totally on display. Definitely not real life-ish. So I stop watching the dancer. I stop looking at her age. And stop caring about the trophy she wants to win. I look at her and try to “just see HER”. That…that right there. That is the kind of moment, the moment when I could “just see HER” that keeps me tilting at the windmills. That is the battle that cannot be lost.
My brand? I think it boils down to finding that battle that cannot be lost. To convince those young dancers of the beautiful spirit and expression that God gave them to make the world a bit more beautiful than it would be without them. About discerning what is “real” from what is just a game. And about being their unique selves and dancing for a truly important reason. And I don’t think it’s a trophy. I used teaching dance my entire career as a platform only. It could have been tennis, or golf or chess club. It was just fertile ground where I planted ideas and hoped my students could see what grew. But mostly see HOW it grew. I hope now that all those children that passed through my doors learned to anchor their soul to something worthy. Dreaming the impossible dream really isn’t so impossible if you can see the invisible.
I am 15. Finally. Mom lets me dress how I like, and style my hair how I want. It’s long and straight now. Cornsilk is what I’m going for.
There’s a dance at my school and my parents are letting me go. I’m kind of scared, but my friend Jeanne says we should go and maybe we will find boyfriends.
Jeanne’s mom drops us off and as we enter the gym, it’s so loud, so dark. I’m kind of scared. People I see in school just sitting at their desks are now dancing in the middle of the room in plain sight for everyone to see. I stare at them and think about how different they look.
There’s a group of boys from another school over by the band; they are looking at Jeanne and me and laughing. One of them walks towards us and my stomach flips. He asks me to dance. I say, “I don’t know how to dance”. He just laughs and takes my hand and leads me toward the dance floor. He’s touching my hand! I think I will faint.
We get to the dance floor and he starts to dance. He’s mesmerizing. I wish I could become invisible, but instead I find myself swaying back and forth like I have practiced in my living room. I know I look stupid. I wish the song would end. But when it does, he wants to keep dancing to the next song. And the next, and the next. So, I dance and he smiles at me like he thinks I’m beautiful.
He tells me his name is Jim, and that he’s 16 and has his own car. He touches my hair and says “cornsilk”. I am hopelessly in love.
For 6 months Jim is my boyfriend and we go to every single dance. I have a reputation now at school that I am a really good dancer. I owe it all to Jim, because I really just copy him and he’s magnificent. Everything about him is magnificent. He writes me a poem, gives me a ring and the Beatle’s White album. He tells me I am the best dancer he knows.
Then one day, he disappears and I think I will die. But I keep dancing even without him.
50 years pass and I get a notion to see if he’s on Facebook, which he is. I recognize his face immediately, even though he’s now a grandpa. My stomach does a flip. I realize I am still in love with that 16 year old boy. I still have the poem and the ring and the Beatles White Album to this day.
We become facebook friends and I see pictures of his children and grandchildren. He asks me “and how did you spend your life?” I tell him that I just kept dancing.
Hey, you know how the story goes. Popeye gets himself in trouble (AGAIN!) and to save the day, he has to go and eat that icky can of spinach. BUT with his super food, he is always the victor.
How is ballet class like spinach? Well, what do YOU think?
Ballet is the super food for building your technique. There just is no substitute, no matter how much we wish there was. No rhinestones, no costume, no stage presence can outshine stunning technique.
Dancers, you work so hard on the dances you bring to competition. Give yourself the extra edge and GET YOURSELF IN TO BALLET CLASS!
Here is a tip from one of my judges, Aron Salizar. I asked him what advice he has for dancers that come to my competitions. Okay, he’s blunt. But… alas, he is so right.
We ask dancers to “dare to be different”, but how do we dare to be different for you
Solo Dancers, many of you are back in the studio and getting ready to pick out your solos. I want to give you some tips for preparing your solo. You can see them all in this video.
But here, in writing, is a HUGE tip. Be Different! Be ORIGINAL.
There are so many soloists at competitions these days. YOU want to be remembered by the judges, a stand out!
How??? There are lots of ways:
1. Music – Choose a song that no one else will be dancing to. It is not hard to be original with the millions of songs available, just go to itunes and start your search. Choose something that really resonates with you, everything from the melody to the lyrics. Choose music that seems to tell your story, in a way that you could say ‘wow, that song was composed just for me!’
2. Costume – choose something that isn’t what everyone else is wearing this season. The “baby doll” dress is everywhere. Baby doll dress, bare legs, rhinestone necklace… can you choose something else? Something new and different?
3. Personality! Stage presence is vital… need I say more? Give the judges someone to fall in love with. YOU!
On this wildly spinning planet, we all have in common this magical, wonderous, often times ignored condition: we live inside a mechanical-spiritual-physical miracle. Mind blowing if you really get even a micro-glimpse of what is going on here.
My favorite thing about living in a body has been dance. My love. My true love. And as my body ages, I can’t let go. So I dance in my dreams, just like I did when I was actually able to leap (and land). In the waking hours, I still give it my best shot.
Good thing I have my second favorite thing about living in a body…. food! Ahhh… the flavors, the spices, the textures, the ….oops, I forgot… it’s really there to nourish us. Well, there is more than one way to nourish. I am coining a new phrase; cuisine-therapy.
Oh, there are other things to love about living in a body, of course. But dance and cuisine therapy take the cake. ( get it? ).
And here is the craziest irony of living in a body…it takes place 90% in your head, becauses it’s really just all about consciousness.
My dad looks at this picture and says “Katie, how did you leap like that?” I tell him the leap is not the hard part. It’s the landing that will getcha’, so I spent years learning to plie. A greater metaphor would be hard to find.
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