-It takes thought to relinquish thought. Until muscles become conditioned to work properly without thinking, we must think...we must think intently with each rond of our jambe
-Where do you suppose the supporting knee straightens? At 2nd, even as the leg continues to rond past 2nd. The tendu plie grand rond de jambe is a precursor to jumps; we are conditioning our leg to straighten in a timely manner.
-With regards to leg holds: You really have to demand it of yourself-- every time you developpe.

Every time we developpe, I am reminded of the dichotomous nature of ballet. It is a Spartan art. For all its effeminate grace, it's got a definite hardness to it, like a statue that exudes beauty in form yet is hard as stone to the touch. The hardness comes from its seemingly inhuman demands combined with its extreme orderliness and emphasis on code of conduct. In the past, we've jokingly call K's classes "ballet boot camp", but like most jokes, it has a basis in truth. Boot camp doesn't sound like fun, but actually, the fact that it is so demanding and stoic is one of the very reasons why I love ballet class so much. It gives me something to be serious about.

In the last days of 2010, the thought crossed my mind that there was no way I could put more time, more energy, more passion into this "hobby" of mine than I did this past year. A few days into 2011, however, I realize how naive it was to think so. I can think of many a day, and many an hour when I could have been doing a ballet warm-up and was not, stretching and working on my turnout and was not, and so on. Every once in a while, the thought creeps in that I am living a delusional life. A perfect turnout, for instance, is something you gain as a young dancer when your bones are still growing and malleable. Then again, what is this obsession with turnout and leg holds? It's time to stop playing Ballerina. Every so often, the thought also creeps in that I've directed an emotion called "love" into an inanimate concept. There's no doubt that I love my studio, I love ballet class, and I love the dance with a depth that is normally directed toward people. At times, I am struck by the truth that despite surrounding myself with all these things that I love, I am very much alone precisely because they are only things and not people. How much satisfaction can I gain from a thing, which cannot love me back? Moreover, to pour so much of my energies into this one thing. It's frightful, really. Then again, nothing is eternal.

A couple nights ago during a stretching session before bed, I was thinking of these things. Then I was woken up while it was still dark out by a loud and insistent knocking on our door. I stumbled over to the window, pulled the shades, and was struck dumb by the sight of snowfall. Flurries fell silently, here and there illuminated by the warm marigold light from streetlamps. Sigh...