Our routine on Saturday morning is to take a class at Alvin Ailey dance studios. We coerce our bodies into movements and positions directed by our wonderful instructor Sarita. She told me last week I have made progress.
But we don’t dance. We take a Pilates class. We just enjoy the allure of being in a professional dance studio in New York City.
Today, I went to a different dance studio at NYU (unfortunately, John was not feeling well and stayed home). No, I didn’t dance. No, I didn’t take Pilates.
I watched our friend Nicole perform a modern duet with her friend Max.
I sat next to Nicole’s Mom. When the piece was over, I looked at Kris and said, “Wow. That had such an emotional pull on me.” My eyes were moist and I had a lump in my throat. Kris looked at me with tears in her eyes.
I’ve seen a lot of dance performances. I saw two performances before Nicole’s. One was like a pair of wild mechanical dolls and made me smile:
One moved with determination like a force of nature. It had beautifully syncopated movements with figures rising up on point, and down again (the girl at the far left choreographed the piece Nicole and Max danced):
I have seen Nicole dance many times before. I’ve seen Max dance before. But together this morning they had me on the verge of tears.
Was it the choreography? Was it the music (with prominent violin)? Was it the talent of the dancers? Was it because I know the dancers? I searched for an explanation of my emotional reaction.
I wish I had spent that time just dwelling in the emotion. Next time I have to remember to let go and join the dance.
Maybe I am ready for a dance class at Alvin Ailey.
live. enjoy. repeat.