And then I crashed. First, the palpitations came back. Then, I noticed when I was pushing myself on a day after work that I ended up walking as fast as an easy walk on a day off. Or maybe it was the other way around. I don’t remember. I am too exhausted. Even though I am very tired, I don’t sleep well. Full-time work and dance practice don’t agree. I can’t do it all. Admitting that, I broke down sobbing one night around 3 am. I took the next day off from work even though I don’t get paid when I don’t work. No sick days. No vacation days. I just needed an extra break. I had been driving myself trying to maintain a workout schedule and dance practice that would help me become the best dancer I can be. I just can’t do it. And maybe I don’t want to do it. I get joy out of sitting on a park bench watching a crow go by. I get joy out of meditating next to a waterfall. Peak is killing me, especially if I leave grit in it. I need to relax not strive more.
I am not dancing to impress anybody; I’m not even dancing to entertain anybody. I am dancing to express myself. I am dancing to heal myself. The idea of “peak” got into my head and messed up what dance actually means to me. Yes, technique is very important because without technique I cannot express what I want to express. But I want to be able to take my time getting the technique, and enjoy the journey. The goal is not the important thing. The dance is.
I keep returning to the same insight: I want to dance folk dance, not performance dance, dance that is shared, that is a celebration, not a dance that is a presentation, on a stage.