Rooted, I used to think.

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Tuesday, Dec. 03, 2013 @ 11:18 am
Finding Grace

Ballet is improving dramatically. I stayed for back-to-back lessons last night, one class at the barre, the other at the centre.

I feel my turnout improving as my muscles strengthen. My hamstrings are lengthening, and I surprised myself by extending my leg straight out into the air while grasping my heel. My arms are learning where to go.

She takes a hold of my arm and gently presses at the elbow, then twists my forearm, then stretches out my fingers. And there it is: the graceful ballet arm.

I looked at myself in the mirror last night, and I hardly recognized myself. My arm held out lightly like the others, my legs straight, my feet delicate in demi-pointe. We go to move across the floor in a series of plies, tendus, and releves, and I see something surprising in myself: grace.

Roots | Shoots