Frozen on the Stage and on the Page

When I was studying ballet in college, I also took a few modern dance classes. They were always more fun than ballet, and much less painful on the toes. We could leap and twirl, slide and fall, instead of just practicing the formal steps the ballet teacher called out.

But in the modern class, sometimes the teacher would say, “Time for improv!” and we were all supposed to make up whatever we wanted to do to the music. This was hard for me, because I had never done it much. Sure I would put on Tchaikovsky at home and prance about the living room when no one was home, but in a class I worried what others would think. Usually, we did this as a whole class, and since everyone was dancing around me, no one would notice my awkward efforts.

One side of the modern dance studio was equipped with black stage curtains so we could use the room for performances. Once, the teacher was excited to have us perform our improvs in front of the class, one by one, on the “stage.” He put on some music and each of us was to take the stage and dance for a few bars of music, then the next one would take over.

I stood in line watching as each dancer came on stage, whirling and kicking and bounding in their turn. My heart started beating fast, my stomach clenched. The person in front of me finished with a flourish and it was my turn. Somehow I walked out on the stage, but then, I found I could not move. Not at all. The teacher smiled at me encouragingly as he continued to count out the beats of my music. I stared back, frozen.

The counts of my turn on stage were over. I walked off and sat down.

I think about this experience sometimes. What was I afraid of? Why couldn’t I move? I loved to dance—why not dance so others could see it? I think back and wish I had danced as I knew I could.

I think about this when I am afraid to try something new. I thought about it a lot when I was thinking about writing a blog. Sometimes I felt frozen, my fingers unwilling to move, as I sat at my keyboard and thought about setting up the blog.

But then I did it. Six months ago, in a burst of New Year’s Resolve, I set up the blog and started posting. Sometimes, as my finger hovered over the “publish” button, my heartbeat would increase and I would think, “Oh this is not a good one. No one will like it.”

Then I would think, “Oh well. It’s something I wrote and cared about and if no one likes it that’s OK.”

And you know, it has not been nearly as scary as I expected. Even on the pieces I thought were not so good, you, my friends, have been kind. Thank you to all who have so generously read my writing and let me know you like it. That feedback has taught me much.

It’s taught me that sometimes I am not a good judge of what will touch others. It’s taught me that my honest experience is like the experience of others and that we have much more in common than we think. It’s taught me to share what I have because I have something to share.

Sometimes you just have to dance. Maybe it won’t be good. Maybe people won’t like it. But you have to dance if you are going to get better. You can’t share what you have or improve what you have if you are frozen in fear.

So, now, I want to try and fail and get up and try again, until the dancing begins to feel right. In all I do, I want to dance with joy.

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

 2nd Timothy 1:7