When I was little I spent a boatload of time at my public library. Among some of the books that I checked out non-stop were "My Ballet Book" by Kate Castle and "A Very Young Dancer" by Jill Krementz. How I was initially drawn to these titles is a mystery to me, but I do know how the captivated my big, blue eyes and great, growing brain. Hours upon hours, I poured over the photos, memorizing every detail and caption. Many years later, when I worked at the same library as a high school student, I checked the same books out, unashamedly reliving fond childhood memories.
Flash forward to the summer before my freshman year of college. I had just received word about who my roommates would be, all of which I quickly tried to contact and get to know better. I spent an awkward amount of time stalking the girl I would be sharing a room with on social media, quickly discovering that she was, in fact, a real, true ballerina.
The little girl inside of me did flips and jumps and cartwheels. I was going to befriend with a living, breathing dancer. Exactly the kind of person I had studied and studied for years before.
Long story short, my roommate Shannon and I became good friends, quickly bonding over Joey Tribbiani, Spongebob and Christmas.
And then the time came for the Fall Ballet.
Shannon and I had been separated for an entire weekend as she danced away, returning back to the room hungry and tired each evening. Finally, it was my turn to watch her in all of her glory.
I walked into the performance with high expectations.
And I was blown away with emotions I didn't plan on feeling.
You see, something special happens when you watch someone you care for so deeply doing what they were made for, even if it is something you wish you had the capacity for yourself.
As soon as I watched Shannon on the stage, my palate for jealousy was totally erased.
There are few times in life that we can really let go of ourselves and our own wants and needs. This is one of those times.
Seeing her absorbed in dance, really doing the thing she was created to do gave me such pride. Partially in the world of, "I know her!!!" but even more so captivated with, "I am so proud of her." I would guess this is the way parents feel about their own children.
If I had grown up to be a ballerina, given the talent and passion, I would probably be happy, I would probably be proud of myself. But I think I am happier being proud of Shannon. I am more happy being given the chance to cheer her on, ask how dance is going, hear her speak so lovingly and watch her perform so powerfully.
I am more fulfilled when I can use what I have been given to be happy for others. My words, hugs, smiles and support.
Saint Francis of Assisi said, "...for it is in giving that we receive."
In giving what I can to Shannon I am receiving back friendship, gelato, laughter, honesty, trips to visit the Christmas piano man and a more fulfilling feeling that I could try to concoct on my own.
We were made to walk alongside each other. To say I am so proud of you and propel each other forward.
And that is why I still love ballet.
