As you can see due to my posting time. I am having trouble sleeping. My jaw hurts and I have a sore throat. My massage therapist had asked me if I had something I needed to say to someone that I am holding in. I said no. And, I was honest. I tell my parents that I love them frequently. My sister and I have a great relationship. My fiance is perhaps the sweetest man alive and I am on summer vacation. What is there to keep me up? What could I possibly have to say?
But, I discovered that there is plenty. Not the least of which is an underlying artistic, creative, (dare I say) spiritual issue that I have been sorting through for the past few weeks. I want to write and I want to make dances, but for the past few weeks, I have been torturing myself with the question, why? It seems as the rest of my life was settling into place beautifully, I finally had the time to question myself as an artist. Oh joy.
Art making has always been a given in my life and there was no need to justify it to myself or anyone else. Ask me the meaning of the humanities in the world and I had an answer! Dancing was at my core and it was the solace amongst much other suffering.
So, now that I have the stability of a tenure position teaching dance, a lovely living space on a beautiful property and rewarding relationships with my family and soon to be husband, I opened a can of worms.
Why was a creating? Dances, poems, whatever. Was it just self doubt and a need to validation? Or was there something more to it? Do I really have something to say? And if so, what?
My reluctance to start this blog begins with my personal view on the culture of online sharing. I see the way that people self advertise through online social networking and blog sites like this. It seems everyone has something to say and they are compelled to say it, as if it were a testimony to their lives that validates their existence. Each day my Facebook Most Recent news column is filled with both claims of "I love my life" and "the world is against me". And, it is often charming and fun, but at other times I wonder whether these quips don't clog our communication or personal search that happens in more than 150 characters. (I'm certainly not the first to think this. But this is a precursor to why I am writing. so bear with me just a moment longer. . .)
The bottom line after much hemming and hawing, is that I honestly feel I have something to share. Perhaps my flounderings and personal challenges with depression, art making, and spiritual/existential searching give me an edge on the market. Or perhaps I am just as normal and mundane as the next. Either way, I didn't want to blog because I didn't want to clog up the world with my thoughts if they weren't meaningful or useful to the reader. Nor, did I want to start writing out of the need to validate what I am experiencing. I spent the last three weeks wondering if I write and make dances because I should, or because I can.
I decided, for the moment, that I must do both because I have to. Clearly my jaw and throat are speaking to me. For better or worse, I am wired to look at the world and wonder. It has caused my many years of depression and pain. I am also wired in such a way that I must teach and must share, an attribute inherited from a family of teacher and performers. I started teaching dance at 14 and have never stopped. The joy of student discovery is a treasure I cherish, and I am dedicated to continually improving myself so I can best serve them in their quests.
I am nervous, that my writing in this blog won't live up to my own standards of what should go out to the world. But, I believe that I mean only good and with that intention, I hope I will be able to serve others as I have been served and guided in my path.
And in so doing, I will be honest that this will be self serving as well. Because it not only forces me to solidify my zooming thoughts, but challenges me to continue growing so I may reflect the world and its many nuances and quirks with the greatest accuracy and insight possible. For this I am grateful to you.
Beth
Your art speaks to me. Extraordinary amounts.
ReplyDeleteWell, I'm interested in reading this, so there's one reason to write it.
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