Recovery continues! Weight-baring activity begins at the end of this week. I’ll be able (finally!) to start working on my hands again. No hand-stands right away of course, but strength building beginning on my hands and knees, planks, and eventually, push-ups. I have full mobility back, which is quite delightful, and am focused now on major strength-building. The therapists have informed me that for the rest of my life (not just dancing career) I’ll have to maintain some kind of upper-body strengthening regime. So serious! The 22-year-old in me still has to struggle to listen closely to such instructions…especially since every time they massage the muscles that run from the shoulder-blade through the armpit I get uncontrollable giggling fits…surgery didn’t change my tickleshness!
BodyTalk and Franklin Method exploration continue as well. I had an interesting experience in a ballet class last week. I’ve been instructed only to take barre and maybe gentle exercises in center…no wild arm motions allowed. I was on the subway to class, super excited and pumped to be dancing. As my stop got nearer, I started to feel my heart rate increase a bit. Anxiety began to make my hands clammy. My whole body felt out of sorts and by the time I walked into the studio I had an overwhelming sense of nausea. Uncertain why my whole body was spazzing out, I did my best to muddle through barre, thank the teacher, and practically run back to the subway, shaken and exhausted.
As I rode the subway home (you find you have a lot of time to think in transit) I realized something. Before surgery, I had extremely firm ideas about how my body worked, how I felt about how it worked, and what dance was to me. Now…everything has changed. During my time away from the studio I have learned more than I could have possibly imagined about how my body actually functions. I’ve shaken old habits, I’ve pondered my attachments, I’ve disrupted not only the physical patterns that were once rock solid in my system, but also dissolved the emotional tapestry etched there by time and memory. And once all of that is gone…what’s left? I felt like a snake shedding skins, but without knowing what would be underneath. The question left my entire being floundering at the ballet barre.
When I finally arrived back at my apartment, I knelt on the dark wood floor of my cozy room and cried. ’Too much, too much!’ My heart and body cried. I guess before we move on, we have to grieve a bit for all that we are letting go. I know I just have to keep getting back into the studio, no matter how much my nervous system freaks out, it will eventually develop new, exciting, fresh and beautiful patterns. I am just starting to glimpse all that I have to look forward to.
Here is a little ditty filmed pre-surgery and edited during recovery…enjoy!
