joy. peace. happiness. frustration. exhaustion. confusion.
bliss.
the emotions connected to a first 'first love.'
my passion is motion.
my art is musical, visual, physical.
my medium is my body; more importantly, it is my soul.
ballet shoes are records; they contain countless memories and stories, heartaches and celebrations, excitements and disappointments. slipping back into them after an extended time away is like coming back to the room in which you grew up; it is coming home, and it is bittersweet.
there is loss to be acknowledged once you put on those shoes, because they don't fit quite the way they used to, and they don't smell just the way you remember, and they don't move exactly the way you want them to, the way you moved them before; you know that things you once cradled in the palm of your hand have escaped into the still, sweet, thin air of the past. in those neglected shoes rest the pain, sweat, and tears of years and months and lifetimes of dreams pursued, released-- but never forgotten. in those shoes, you may return to youth. you may taste your own hope, possibility, desire...but only for the intake of breath of a moment. you may remember. you may laugh. you may cry. sigh a little, relive the laying to rest of an idea, of a plan, of a wish on a star.
then?
take off your shoes. put them away. handle with care; they are material things, and they won't last forever. someday they will disintegrate and be tossed carelessly into a grimy trashcan, a filthy dumpster.
but the memories? those are yours forever. hold them close; never let them go. feel everything that wearing those shoes poured into your soul, and do not ever forget; do not ever allow your dreams to slip through your fingers again.
