I have two wonderful little blisters on the backs of my heels, right where my standard dance shoes rub.
These soon-to-be callouses are a reminder that today I worked hard. I danced hard. I let myself put my heart into it more than usual, and it felt so good.
I worked up a sweat, the satisfying kind of sweat. And it's been a while since I've done that.
Since the
beginning of the semester, I've felt so guarded. I put up the walls and didn't let myself care too much or expect too much from myself.
Not today.
Sometimes I forget that dance is still one of my passions. I forget to
enjoy it, and I get caught up in all the stress and competition and comparisons and politics involved.
It's because I start doing it for other people, rather than dancing for myself.
Today I remembered why I love to dance. It's something my heart and body craves. I remembered that I don't do it for awards or praise. I do it because I love it, because it pushes me to be better; because every time I learn something new, or master part of a step or routine, I feel triumphant.
And because it's like floating and lifting weights, at the same time.
