The big question was: would I start back at the studio, tonight? My January ballet intensive starts this evening. Sign-up's been good. Not great, but good. Another instructor is absolutely at the ready, down to teach this class for me. But sometime in the wee hours, I knew I would go. And then I realized there was never any question that I would go.
I mean, life is for the living, life must go on, and all that. But I don't really believe these days of half-thoughts, sentences abandoned mid-speech, and periods of silent, pained analysis, are living. Nor would I wish this kind of half-life on anyone. But we'll all go through it; death will touch us all. I know that.
And I know that when I'm immersed in the ballet, I am alive. Just as when I'm cooking and writing, I am alive. So I'll pick up some groceries, make some good things (nothing complicated; maybe just a one-casserole dish, enough for a neighbor; he's a little old widower not long for this world...) and then I'll head down to Hochstein to meet my students. Unless they've met me before, they'll think I'm the silent, serious type, the *THIS IS BALLET, PEOPLE* type. That's alright.
So then... by the end of today, having cooked, danced and written this post, I will have done all the things that make me feel "alive"-----and maybe... maybe that will make me a little more okay. : /
Maybe I'll have more to say at some point; it's hard to say. These are strange days, and I am a stranger, touring a strange land...
< / 3 #ParaGoddess
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