Inspiration Next Door


patricia-mcbride

Patricia McBride

There isn’t a ballet studio in my neighborhood. I’m still struggling to find a teacher, although there are at least two possibilities that I should hear about in the next few weeks. My “next door” is more metaphorical, made possible through the virtual neighborhood. I did a bit of research today and found out that the prima ballerina whose work I love lives only an hour or so away. I’m talking about Patricia McBride, in Charlotte, NC! I could actually get in my little car and buzz up the highway for tea with her, if she knew me. That’s what I call inspiration!

I find that oftentimes I make little mental excuses for myself, “Oh, you’re in Greenville, SC, honey. No one expects you to actually learn to really dance, dear.” By thinking such things I have an out in case I quit or worse, fail miserably. Now that I know that Ms. McBride is the associate artistic director of the North Carolina Dance Theatre (her husband Jean-Pierre Bonnefoux is the President and Artistic director), and a new facility is being erected (and rumored to have her name on it someway, somehow), I have more motivation than ever to DO (instead of try) in all earnestness. (If I may reference Yoda’s admonishment, “Do or do not. There is no try.”)

The bottom line is this, even if (G-d forbid) Ms. McBride said vile things about me (a fat chick wanting to learn how to dance), and we both go to our final resting place without ever meeting, I’m still making strides to be the dancer I could have been. Today I began using the NY City Ballet Workout dvd (part 1) and was surprised how much of it is like the yoga and Pilates I already know. I’m doing, and one day, I hope to thank Patricia for the inspiration, even if she doesn’t give a whit that at age 41 I finally learned to dance.



9,924 Steps, Two sets of Grande Plies and Miles to Go


view-of-kudzu-forest

Officially, for 7 days now, I’ve been on my quest to turn to my love of ballet into the ability to actually participate in the dance form. This morning as I walked through Cleveland Park, I decided to take up an idea from creative friend of mine (Hi, Ann!) and actually do a tiny bit of ballet while I meandered about. Her original comment to my Facebook page was to take a plie every 10 steps and one the the basic 5 positions every 5 steps, which would amount to making me look like John Cleese’s ministry of silly walks, and wouldn’t do much to keep my heart rate where I wanted it to be for an hour or so. Instead, I opted to pause at two different picnic pavillions and use the structural supports to touch in lieu of a barre. I did each of the 5 positions, right side first, then left, complete with grande plie transitions between each pose. Low and behold, my hips seemed to love the new movement 40 minutes or so into my jaunt around the park. I can only guess this is what the Tin Woodsman felt like when he was finally oiled, and blissfully I walked a total of 9, 924 steps and got a teensy weensy bit of ballet in as well.

Alas, the Woodsman isn’t the only character from the land of Oz that I feel like as of late. My dear readers, I have a confession to make. For all my vibrato and bluster, I’m no King (or Queen) of Forest, even if we have as much kudzu as tress in the park. The full story is that I’m a 5 foot tall woman who weighs a good 50+ pounds than I should for my height. (In fact, I won’t even admit to the general public how much I do weigh at this juncture.) Thus, in a tutu, I’ll look more like the sweet natured beastie on this book cover than I’ll look like Patricia McBride, and as a result, feel like the Cowardly Lion when I imagine being in a group ballet class.

Don’t worry. I’m not giving up by a long shot. I used some of my birthday money to buy the NY City Ballet Workout dvd (parts 1 and 2), and once I learn all the lingo and the positions, I’ll use it regularly to improve my skills. I know I have miles to go, but about 2500 years ago Lao-tzu said it best: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” My journey has begun. What’s everyone else’s excuse for not trying?