I attended a Bharatnatyam (Indian classical dance) recital last
night. It was a beautiful night filled with dance and music. The ghungroo (brass
bells) in the feet, the bright beautiful silk, the make-up, the temple jewelry
and the orchestra members (some of who I even recognized; some of who I had
once performed with) all made me nostalgic. The dancer performing her
Arangetram was a student of my dance class friend. I felt so proud of her and
of other friends who continued to make room in their lives for dance.
I felt at home in the auditorium. It felt comfortable. It
felt enjoyable. My hand and feet may have tapped to the beat of the mridyungam,
but it was something inside me that seemed to be in rhythm.
So if it felt so
rhythmically right, why had I allowed it to
slide out of my life so permanently? Especially since it will always be a
part
of me. Once at a Moroccan restaurant, the belly dancer invited me to
dance and
I did. She asked if I was a dancer, I reluctantly said I was. She asked
me to
teach her some Bharatnatyam steps. I did. Ahem....I know what you're
thinking...I wonder too how I get into situations like these.
Rather crazy huh?...to teach a belly dancer Bharatnayam in the middle of a restaurant with
people staring at us with baklava in their mouths!
While I may still shake my head as I think of it today, I
also realize that this art form will always be a part of me. And again I wonder
why I let it slide out of my life so permanently?
Why do we give up on things that we love and that are a part
of who we are? Do we simply no longer have the time or energy? Do life’s
priorities take over? Do we feel like we can no longer do justice to the art
form or activity any longer? Do we feel it better to abandon it rather than
turn it into a lame hobby?
Or does it seem like we’re holding on to a lost dream, a
different time, a different space, a different frame of mind?
My teachers and I put in a lot of time, sweat and energy in
the many years of training. I practiced regularly, performed occasionally,
drove to dance class at the crack of dawn, stuffed dance clothes in my college bag
when I went for classes. Yes. Dance was a part of my day. Every day. And again I
wonder how I let it slide out of my life so permanently?
For years I thought, it was no longer a part of who I am.
But apparently it still is.
So even if I can no longer pursue it with the commitment of
before; even if I no longer have as much time, even if I have changing priorities,
even if I no longer have as much physical strength; can I perhaps give it a
tiny little spot in my life? A small little space with as much or as little
physical energy that I can muster? For even if this spot is small, the joy and
self-identity may be big.
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