As a dancer, I am always finding my balance. I am constantly aware of the placement of my shoulders, hips, knees and ankles in relation to each other.
Even when I’m doing something menial, such as brushing my teeth in the morning, I look at my shoulders, my rib cage, and my pelvis in the mirror to make sure nothing is out of place. As I brush over those pesky, hard-to-reach molars, I relevé slowly, and I find my balance there. If I’m feeling adventurous, I lift one foot into coupé and hold as a brush the back of my tongue.
Through these little movements, I am searching for that moment where all of my joints stack effortlessly on top of each other. I’m working to find the equilibrium in my body that allows me to not only walk correctly, but also allows me to freely bend, turn and jump as I please.
Finding that equilibrium is quite exhilarating.
Once I find that balance, I feel unstoppable. I feel free to try new things in my dancing. Balances and turns become easier, and floor work and lifting exercises become more approachable. Finding my balance allows me to try new things and push myself as a performer and as an artist.
Outside of the dance world, finding my balance can be tricky. It took me thirteen years of dance training to figure out how to stay aligned while dancing. And truly, I didn’t properly find it until somewhere around year ten or eleven.
If it took me thirteen years of dancing to begin to grasp the concept of being balanced, then how the hell am I supposed to understand what being balanced in my regular life looks like?
This is when I look to the dance world for inspiration. (Does art imitate life or does life imitate art? A question for another article entirely.)