Student

There’s nothing like taking class in a new city that makes me feel more welcomed and part of the soil. When I took Josie Moseley’s Limon class last Monday I was more here. (Portland) I appreciated her giving me corrections right off the bat. I especially appreciated being in a low stress setting filled with humor yet utter seriousness at what we were learning. (Plus there’s a terrific pianist.) The blend of play with information delivered makes me want to work, to investigate. I find there is room for me and the stuff I bring that is all mine.

Yesterday I took her class again; I loved it even more. Everything Josie says is informed by her physically (and spiritually) experiencing her craft. And she’s generous with the information. It is not held back; she willingly gives us the tools we need, and she rewards us for it. Hers is a serious class for folks who want a modern technique/style steeped in a rich history. I’ve always been a sucker for classical modern, in fact it’s often more “where I live” than the ballet world, and I must find a consistent way to scratch this itch in Minneapolis.

Taking class was a gift. I did not want to get up in the morning, and yet I know myself well enough to know that I’d feel so good if I trekked the ½ hour to the studio. I already knew where it was and the general drill, and as my opera call wasn’t until 7 PM, I coerced my exhaustion with the notion that I’d take a nap in the afternoon. (Indeed I did, lazy me.)

I am reminded that I love being a student. Perhaps more so after these two weeks of teaching and generally being in charge. It is so nice to be on the receiving end. (I do receive when I teach, it’s just different, and the energy output is intense.) I remembered today how much I simply love to move, to dance. There’s a rightness to it, a peace that it sometimes brings, and when I’m in that zone, the whole rest of my life falls simply into place like a skeleton’s hanging bones.