The Dancing Grasshopper

I started ballet lessons when I was three years old. I loved it immediately. The freedom, the creativity, the ability to move my body to music in an expression of who I was and what I was feeling. The dance studio was my home and when I put on those pink ballet slippers, I was transformed each and every time.

Dance was life to me. It was a way of being that is unexplainable to the non-dancer. To fall and move within a piece of music is like flowing with water. It's like being water.

I was a dancer for a long time and it's not hard to argue that I still am a dancer. My body may not be able to do everything it once was able to (because I haven't trained in fifteen years), but dance itself has never left me. I can still choreograph anything on the fly. I can still see a dance to a piece of music in my head. I'm still a ballerina all over my house when nobody is looking. Well, even when some people are looking; especially my daughter who is a younger version of me (which means she is unique and REALLY cool).

When I started to compete in dance, there were only two times in a span of twelve years I was competing that I got less than first place. I landed 3rd place when I was eight. When I was eighteen, I didn't even place. Both times, it was a motivator. I've got boxes filled with trophies in my basement because I refused to place less than 1st. If I was going to compete, I was not going to lose.

I had to be the perfect dancer and in my youth, I thought perfection in an art could be achieved. I still have issues with trying to be perfect, but if only I knew in youth what I know now. Perfection, in anything, can't ever be achieved. Mastery, in anything, can't ever be achieved.

A friend of mine shared this quote from his father: "No matter what you want to do in life, be the best at it."

Choose something you love and strive to be the best.

"The best" does not mean perfect.

"The best" means that every day that you pursue your passion, is one day better than the day before. In Karate, my Sensei and friend refers to this as "seeking perfection of character". You will spend your entire lifetime seeking perfection of character because with each new day, you improve over yesterday...or at least you should.

I've long hung up my dancing shoes. It was a sad break-up. I probably cried for a week when I decided that at the age of twenty, I was too old to continue on as a student at the dance studio. I had the desire to share my love with younger students, but the studio wasn't hiring. I packed up my boxes of trophies, my pictures, my tights, and put my shoes up on the shelf.

After eighteen years of astonishing growth and small successes along the way, the roots of the tree had been pulled.

I thought at age twenty-five, I'd go back to ballet. I took a few classes at a local school in New York. My knees couldn't handle it and I no longer liked the way I looked in a leotard. I didn't lose what I had in five years time, but the shoes just didn't fit me anymore. I couldn't place it, but I was out of my element somehow. Perhaps it was because I stopped "seeking perfection of character" for five years. when I attempted to pick up where I left off, it was impossible. I was still good and I still had heart, but I knew I'd never be the dancer I had in my head.

A second time, I put the tights away and the shoes on the shelf. And this time, I left them there.

I did nothing but have babies for the next six years. I had four of them in those six years. Also in that time, I picked up my pen and paper and wrote (which I was also very good at), after all, it was what I went to College for. I was author and co-contributor on several blogs, I wrote poetry, essays, opinion pieces, and short stories.

I liked to write, but I didn't love to write.

I liked to do a lot of things, but I didn't love to do anything.

Then after having moved to Denver in 2007, I decided that my kids needed something to do. We came from a place where there was absolutely nothing to do. Here, at last, was a land of endless opportunity. I was flipping through the latest edition of the "Brighton Buzz" and happened across an ad in the back for Karate. "Hey Alekzander! Do you want to try Karate?" My then four year old boy yelled an excited yes!

I signed up too.

I didn't like it and quit within a month.

After awhile I asked myself why I didn't like it and my answer was simple: "I'm not good at it." How I expected to be good right out of the starting gate was beyond me. I have such unrealistic expectations for myself.

How could you possibly be good at something you've never tried before? Nothing in your life has ever come easy for you. You've always had to work twice as hard as everyone else for the same results. Why should this be any different?

And boy, karate was hard. I was a trained dancer and this art was the complete opposite of everything I had been trained to do. No freedom of movement, no flowing creativity, and absolutely no room for error anywhere. It was a different style of movement. Sharp, distinct moves and impeccable technique. Watching a black belt perform kata was like watching water. For me, I had to untrain everything I had been trained and I expected it to happen over night. Eighteen years of training in an art and I was going to attempt a different art-a martial art. Dance and Karate seemed like polar opposites.

On the inside though, they are the same.

I realize this now after two years of training in Shotokan. Although my Sensei wishes I had different feet and arms that didn't fly out during kata, I think he sees just a little bit of talent. And if he doesn't see "talent" in me, I know he sees heart because I have it. I have never had passion for something this strong since Ballet. As difficult and as challenging as Shotokan may be, I love it.

I have gotten over trying to be perfect. I won't be perfect. I can't be perfect. The only thing I can do is be better than the day before. If I could quit everything right now and just do Karate, I would. I would fill my days with it. I would live it and breathe it. I would share my love of the art with others. I would be the water.

The best student is not the one with the perfect technique, but the one who has the best heart. At least, that's what I'd like to think...