It is on nights like tonight, when I have my room to myself, that I remember my passion for movement.
As a toddler I took ballet. Later, throughout elementary school, I would spend hours making up dances to Faith Hill and Shania Twain (and Christmas in the Northwest when the season was right). In fourth and fifth grade I was the best hula-hooper and jump roper on the playground. I would set those routines to music. Skip-Its just didn’t have the same creative potential. At some point around that time I took tumbling, and then trampoline classes (the same year that tramp became an olympic sport). In middle school there was dance team. Our drama class had lipsyncs at the end of each year, and mine were famous for the quality of their choreography. The high school team almost became the next step, but then I didn’t audition.
That’s when my choral life began–four years in three different choirs. I sang on a worship band, tried to start a band with one of my best friends, Seth. The band (30-foot Veil) flopped, but Seth and I still managed to record a song together. Armed with my new philosophy (to do something I was afraid of every day), I auditioned and acted in a musical. At Whitworth I was a voice student for a semester before my passions shifted once again. Now I mostly write.
Tonight I sing to myself as a I walk down the hello walk. When I arrive at my room, I close the blinds, turn my iPod on shuffle, and put on a private, spontaneous dance recital.
These are the moments in which I remember all the things I have been. You wouldn’t even know it unless you knew me then. You wouldn’t know that cross-country used to be my nickname either. To most people I was that girl who runs. To others I was the ski racer. So many passions can fit into one lifetime.
Identity is fluid.
Tonight I close my eyes and I am the loveliest of dancers, rediscovering every muscle and joint, finding the perfect amount flexion to make each moment freer than the last.
At each moment I am a different person breathing life into a brand new set of possibilities.