Monday, November 8, 2010

L'essence . . .


Doesn't that look pretty? And isn't that such a fancy French word?
It means gasoline.

You, my dearest reader ( I am convinced there will be at least one of you) are now involved in a very common, but fascinating incident. The 'Procrastination of Super Important Things' incident. I have a huge test tomorrow, and I'm only hurting myself by not shoving my nose in-between the glossy, smelly, marked up textbook pages. . . but making a grilled Apple-Brie sandwich seemed so much more beneficial at the time.
Sleep sounds pretty nice too.

But passing that exam? Priceless.

What's the point here? There is none.
Someday I'll write an anthropological-esque entry on what I've observed during the day, focusing on the behavioral habits and adaptations of traditional middle-class college students in middle America and it's effects on the psyche of the subject and the culture of the surrounding area.
Until then. . .
Amy

Monday, November 1, 2010

Knit Your Ribs


Yet again, ballet class teaches me more about living than anything else in my limited world.
In our first cold, fall morning ballet class of the season (just a note, ones body behaves like an entirely different animal when it's cold) our ballet instructor was seething frustration. Her tone was sharp and short, her instructions concise and clear. She did not repeat, she did not take questions, she did not look you in the eye. She commanded, you danced. Which was perfectly fine by me, as I prefer to move through a silent class anyways. Only half an hour into the class, she stops the music and begins correcting people, the same old corrections over and over again; "Jane, plie."
"Amy, knit your ribs."
"Marielle, you're back. Come forward."
"Anna, heels down heels down heels down!"
She finally stopped and looked us, "I know you've had eighteen-plus years of the wrong training. I know you danced for people who didn't care and let you get away with things like this, I'm trying to fix you. If we don't get this fixed, you'll get injured. I'm not yelling at you, I'm helping you because I actually give a care."
Well. . . in so many words.
As I stood facing the mirror, trying over and over again to bring my ribs together, it struck me. . . that's life. We have to forget our past, our years of 'the wrong training'. You simply can't hold onto things for too long or you'll get hurt. Okay, so you made a mistake. You messed up big time, but you can't let it define you. You can't let it worm it's way into your psyche, tint the mirror you see yourself in, become central to your definition. I can't keep thinking of myself as 'the dancer who's always leaning backwards'. Even when you recognize that it's a problem, if it becomes part of your definition you'll never fix the problem. You'll just focus on it, make it bigger.
In life, you have to forget where you came from, clear things out, start again. Start again, how beautiful is that? Okay, so the past is haunting you. It's dug it's way into who you are and now you feel like it's all you'll ever be. But listen, you simply will get hurt if you stay that way. Listen to the corrections you're given, be brave enough to face up to a critical eye, and have the courage to move on. God is going to ask you to face up to the sickly patterns in your life, He is going to ask it of you over and over again. He'll go deeper and demand more than you think is reasonable or necessary, God will push you past limits you only thought you had. But don't give up, listen. He isn't picking on you, He isn't hating you or condemning you for your wrongs; He is fixing you because He loves more than anyone. God loves you too much to let you keep dancing that way, He knows it'll get you injured and out of the game.
So chin up friends, this is something you absolutely can do.
Love!
Amy
(PS, knit your ribs child.)