Um, Do You Mind If I Touch Your Feet?

I’ve been taking adult basic ballet lessons with the Jo Emery Ballet School this summer (and tried a modern dance class thrown in for good measure). I’ve been documenting my foibles, dramas, and comedy as I work through the learning process. Throughout my experiences, I’ve fallen in love with dance for a lot of reasons, but one of big ideas is that dance is MORE than just dancing.

I’ve been studying my comprehensive guidebook, “Ballet for Dummies.” Yeah, the title of the book is silly and eye-rolling (even though it fairly accurately describes my beginner-ness), but I must say it’s a well written, easy to use guide, full of good humor to boot. The French history roots of ballet along with the French terms for the dance steps, has brought my French college language lessons back to life. By studying the glossary and looking at the pictures, I am much better able to understand what I am doing at lessons. And as ballet has evolved, the deep traditions remain (the ever present French words, ideas, and concepts of ballet, along with classic ballet choreography layout).

And along with the deep roots of the art, is the STUFF. Like the dance clothes, the hairstyles, and the shoes. I am particularly fascinated by those gloriously beautiful and beguiling pointe shoes worn by the advanced dancers. In fact, last night at class, one of my favorite fellow dancers (a pretty sweet-natured young dancer with gorgeous long hair, who is just a delight to watch and who I attempt to follow along with when Teacher Jo isn’t demonstrating steps) wore pointe shoes and danced on her toes. It was really beautiful. I learned from my book what pointe shoes are made of and I desperately wanted to touch her feet. She’s kind enough that she’d probably let me, but I am weird enough as it is, and I suspect I don’t need to be any weirder.

But what certainly isn’t weird is what dancers do with their dancing in their lives. Jo Emery has nurtured many dancers over the years; some have gone on to amazing professional dancing careers and others have pursued other passions, but keep dance as another love to do for fun. Whatever, her dancers decide to do, you are one of Jo’s dancers forever and she’s proud of all of them. That pride showed through on my Wednesday night class when Jo, the grand dame lioness, welcomed one of her lion cubs back home. I met Mark Nelson, local boy, a Jo Emery dancer, and Wilson High graduate, who is now the pilates director for the acrobatic, artistic, and dazzling Cirque Du Soleil productions in Las Vegas. He’s also critical in rehabilitating injured performers, like an aerialist that took at 20 foot fall (YIKES!). He works specifically with the Cirque productions “Zumanity” and another upcoming show, “Believe.” To train these performers, you must be the best of the best and fit as a fiddle. Mark, looking DECADES younger than his actual age, dancer lean, and muscular, was jovial and clearly enthused about his interesting job.

And in the short time I’ve been taking classes, I’ve met interesting people and enjoy delving into the overall world of dance. I’ve danced alongside marathoners, nurses, biologists, ballroom dancers, and dentists. I’ve also danced next to local principal dancers and up and coming younger dancers. And despite it all, I have been welcomed into their world.

Cool.

Thoroughly Modern Gritizen

I’ve taken several adult basic ballet lessons at the Jo Emery Ballet School this summer and looked forward to last week’s lesson. But alas, I messed up my ankle a bit after running. So, after taking the week off, it was back to the dance last night with a healed ankle and something new. This Gritizen went full on mod squad.

Well, modern dance that is. Jo Emery, my savvy ballet teacher, encouraged me to try it. Taught by Amity Sloboda and frequented by dancers of all kinds, I was interested. But what was more interesting is after talking with Amity before class, we made the realization that she was well acquainted with my younger brother and his friends at Wilson High School. That’s the small town Tacoma stuff that you just can’t make up. After class I asked my regularly "memory challenged” brother if he remembered Amity. He remembered her readily. I can see why.

Pretty and smart as a whip, Amity achieved a perfect pitch of charming and laid back, but also had that ability to give us participants a push when we needed it. The dance warm-up was cool. I love the barre in ballet, but this warm up infused ballet, yoga techniques, balance, flexibility, and ab work and I dug it. And I was pleased I could do some of it, considering I was amongst many long time, advanced dancers and I was on the seriously older end of the age scale. Oddly, I wasn’t intimidated with my super beginner status amongst the advanced and the youthful; perhaps it’s derived from bravery, ignorance, or lunacy; I don’t know. But what I know for sure is that I liked the other dancers because they were amazing to watch, kind, helpful, and smiled a lot. They had fun and made it fun, so I had fun, too, even though my moves were like a water buffalo compared to their gazelles.

And speaking of my moves, there were a couple of moves that were “oh, hell no!” movements for me. However, I did have a spectacular “hell yeah!” moment. During warm up, there were crunches and push-ups, totally old school. I know I sound like a complete freak for applauding those classic drills, but I was reminded of my Wilson High School cross-country and track days, when I was a young, spirited, capable sporty risk-taker. What a truly delicious feeling.

And the music and floor work were also positively delicious and oh so “me.” With renditions of Pink Floyd to The Beatles, and stuff in-between, the dancing was a meld of everything—ballet, jazz, free form, and hip-hop. I learned this class has been working on a routine for weeks, and I could join as I was comfortable. When the steps were broken down into smaller bits and segments, I joined in to give it a go; it was fun. However, putting it all together, I just couldn’t remember all the steps, so I stepped back and observed. While I love the refinement, history, and clean lines of ballet, I was mesmerized by the energy and athleticism of modern. What a treat to see.

And when I got home from dance class, a treat awaited for me from my six year old daughter who wanted to hear about my dance class. She created an elaborate collage of dancers of all kinds, flowers, stars, hearts, and glitter. In the middle it read: “I love you even if you do bad.” After melting into puddle of love over that one, I realized, too, that I LOVE dance. Even if I do bad, but with the hope that maybe someday, I will be okay at it. Maybe even a little good.

It’s with that love, I am eager for the next journey!