Reframing Your Thinking

Overexposed and ringing in the new year with great friends

Whew! This new year has been a complete and utter whirlwind. I have had mostly major ups and a few minor downs (that include a business I will no longer support - Megabus - avoid this company at ALL costs). But I honestly can’t complain about anything at this point, other than the fact that I need a few more hours in my bed every night. Since the new year, I have taught master classes in both Ballet and Contemporary techniques for the pre-professional class at the School of Pennsylvania Ballet. There was even a sprinkling of company members who joined me for class. Additionally, I will be teaching Contemporary classes for the Second Avenue Dance Company in February. This is a performing group at New York University’s Tisch school comprised of graduating BFA and MFA students. With even more news to share, I have been selected to choreograph for Columbia University’s performing group, Columbia Ballet Collaborative, for their 10th anniversary performances in April. All of this coupled with my 7-week Advanced Beginner Ballet series at Broadway Dance Center (Fridays at 6 pm through February), choreographing student solos for Youth America Grand Prix, and teaching elsewhere has me feeling extremely grateful to be sought out in my art form.

Pre-professional division students at the School of Pennsylvania Ballet (Photo: Alexander Izaliev)

It’s funny, though, because while I am so lucky to have all of this interest in my work, there is a certain degree of anxiety that comes along with it. The concept behind this may require a bit of explanation. Just this weekend, I got news about 5 positive choreographic and teaching offers. While it seems that I should only be feeling excitement here, there is a certain type of stress that comes with positive news. I noticed today that I was experiencing a bit of my former anxiety that I used to get when I was traveling a bunch during my performance career. I would find myself attempting to focus on the work in front of my face, while feeling distracted by setting up what was next (one of the hazards of working as a freelancer). The impossibility of only focusing on the task at hand would make me feel overwhelmed and I now recognize that it contributed to my burn out that I have discussed in this blog already. As a freelance artist, your work stops when the jobs stop. In the process of working to set up continuity within my career, I never took a moment to recognize that I was actually having my career. Instead, I constantly felt like I was working on reaching a certain level of success in my career and didn’t realize that I was actually living it until it was over. There was very little in the moment for me because I was only living in the future.  And while that aspect of my career ended over 2 years ago, I only recognized this today.

So, just a little background. With all of this wonderful news that I’ve gotten in the last week, I had two horrible experiences with Megabus. If you don’t read this regularly, I commute from Philadelphia to New York City multiple times a week to teach at Steps on Broadway, Broadway Dance Center, and Greenwich Ballet Academy. Early on Friday morning, in freezing cold temperatures, our bus never showed up. And, shortly after, on Tuesday night, there were a series of fiascos that prevented our bus from arriving in Philadelphia until 4 am in the morning. I had to teach for the School of Pennsylvania Ballet at 9:30 am that same morning. I was put off by this organization both times and they refused to acknowledge their issues or compensate me for their poor practices/lack of service. This stress, coupled with exhaustion and the flood of positive news somehow threw me back into the throws of anxiety that I experienced previously. I found myself negatively fixated on my exhaustion and the challenges of having limited time in any one place. And I found that I was again telling myself that things will get better when I actually make it into a certain realm of success. Then, this afternoon, out of nowhere, I had a realization. I realized I needed to reframe my thinking because I want to take in all of the amazing experiences that I am having and be as in the moment as I possibly can.

We are very lucky as human beings that we have intellect and the ability to analyze things that are happening in our lives. I firmly believe that one of the best analytical qualities that we share is the ability to reframe life experiences in order to make a dialogue fit in better with our story. Sometimes, this works to our benefit. While, at other times, it can be very detrimental and lead a person to spiral into dark, dark places. But if we can take control of how we frame our life and career experiences in our minds, we can benefit greatly from this. Of course, this is as long as we are being honest with ourselves about where we are and how things are going.

In my current situation, it was almost a bit too natural for me to look at recent happenings and tell myself that things are difficult because I haven’t yet succeeded in reaching my end career goals. Mind you, this is ridiculous to consider at the age of 33. Additionally, I was digesting more stress from the challenges of dealing with the negligent Megabus company and the added exhaustion those issues brought on. I found myself walking to the gym before I jumped on the Bolt Bus to teach at Steps on Broadway tonight telling myself that everything will be glorious when I actually make it big someday. And then right then and there, almost as if I had been hit by a bus, I realized that I wasn’t looking at the situation from any rational perspective. I needed to reframe my thinking.

That moment at 3:34 am, when your Megabus driver gets off the bus to ask a homeless person for directions :-/

At that very moment, I reversed the natural stream of thoughts that roll through my head and chose to look at things differently. I told myself, “No. I am not in any bad situation, at all. And while there are always new dreams and achievements that I want to attain, I am actually living my dream right now. I’m not putting in the work to get to my dream. I’m putting in the work that one does while they live it and that is why I am successful. Yes, my success can get greater. Yes, I have greater goals in mind. But I am not putting in all of this work to get somewhere. I am there and, as long as I keep positively moving forward, it can only get better from here.”

So, now as I sit here on the Bolt Bus (goodbye Megabus 😂 have I made my point?) heading to Steps to teach, I realize that I should be proud of my success. And that my success sometimes puts me in situations that require me to travel a lot, to lose sleep, and to spend time away from my loved ones. This isn’t a greatly negative thing. It is an aspect of becoming successful. And if I can’t come to grips with that in this stage of my career, I may find myself in the same type of burn out situation that I was in at the end of my performance career. And, I don’t want to go through that again.

If you can use my exploration of the idea of reframing thinking to have a more positive outlook on your own life and career goals, I feel that you can benefit from this, as well. Dancers are naturally overachieving spirits. We are always looking to reach the next level of success in many areas of our lives. Whether it is casting, rank promotion, technique, health, or anything else, we tend to be extremely critical of ourselves. When you start to feel out of sorts, if you can reframe your thinking you may recognize that you have already achieved what you are seeking and that you just haven’t taken note that it is happening or already has happened.

16 People Who Have Greatly Influenced My Life

I always get on list kicks during the month of December. It's just too much fun making lists to culminate each year. Without apology, I offer you my final post of 2015, which happens to be another list. This year started off great and ended great. It began working with students from one of my favorite communities (Alaskan dancers) and has ended the same way. While I am spending my free time here in Anchorage attempting to see the Aurora Borealis, I am passing the time waiting for them to appear by writing this.

Please enjoy my way of welcoming 2016. In no particular order, here are 16 people who have greatly influenced my life! Enjoy!

My mom with her Husband Jerry

1. Robin Kerollis Napiecek - I mean, come on! What good, gay, jewish mama's boy wouldn't add their mother at the top of this list? OK, maybe I'm not really a mama's boy anymore, but my mom is surely at the top. While she is currently my biggest (and most promoting) fan, she has also been my greatest support since birth. When this little suburban boy of the 1980's wanted nothing other than to dance beside little girls in pink tights, my mom didn't blink an eye to put me in a dance class. Most parents where I am from would have probably deterred their son from taking part. If I showed passion, commitment, or excitement, my mom made sure that she did everything possible to make sure I was fulfilled, even if it meant that she couldn't afford the finer things in life. Now that we are both adults, I succeeded in becoming a professional dancer, and she has improved her quality of living, she is still my number one fan and makes sure that everybody knows it!

2. Larry Rappoldt - The first artist that I met who truly showed me what it is to love your art was this man. At the age of 5, my mom hired Mr. Rapp to teach me how to play the piano. We spent time together nearly every week for 12 years. From weekly piano lessons to joining his middle school concert band, this gentleman inspired me to be passionate about music. I remember the first time I noticed him swaying back and forth as he played a beautiful solo. I asked him if he swayed to match the beat and he responded, "I sway because I feel the music inside my body and it moves me." This moment changed the way I saw music and has probably influenced me more than I realize. I wouldn't be the same dancer, choreographer, or artist if I hadn't worked with this wonderful teacher.

Ms. Kim

3. Kimberly Martin - Ms. Kim (though she is now Mrs.) was my main ballet teacher from the ages of 13 to 17. While she was integral to my training during those years, she has remained an important part of my life. When I was offered the Interim position to direct Alaska Dance Theatre, she was the first person that I called for advice. Kim is a kind, generous person who taught me that you get to choose your family. When I was 16, my mom chose to keep me home after I was asked to attend the Houston Ballet Academy's year round program. I was devastated. Kim stepped up and made sure that my year didn't go to waste. She put a futon in her spare bedroom (over an hour away from my home) and offered me a second home to live on weekends. After her Friday ballet class, I would travel to Wilmington, DE, where Kim gave me private coaching during every available hour that the weekend held. Not only did Ms. Kim let me live with her, she drove me to dozens of summer intensive auditions and helped my family by providing ballet slippers and tights for my training. Still to this day, there are few people I look up to, respect, and appreciate more than Ms. Kim.

Bob Rizzo

4. Bob Rizzo - When I was 15 years old, I was taking a workshop at a suburban Philadelphia studio that featured some guy from New York City who had been on Broadway, produced educational dance videos, and taught on faculty at New York University. While I took his class thinking he was some guy, I quickly learned that he was much more. After taking Bob's workshop, he took special interest in me and showed me that he was not only a spectacular instructor, but a great person and mentor. Over the next few years of my teenage life, Bob flew me to multiple venues to assist him in his workshops, let me stay with him in his Upper West Side apartment, and taught me the ins-and-outs of the New York dance scene. While I didn't end up following the same path that he had been cultivating me to take, Bob played a huge part in inspiring me to become the dancer I am today.

Katrina Killian

5. Katrina Killian - Not every pre-professional student is lucky enough to find a mentor that is wholly invested in their future. Through the School of America Ballet lecture demo series, I found Katrina. After only working with her for a few weeks, this wonderfully energetic woman took me under her wing and made it her mission to make sure that I had a fruitful career. She selflessly poured her heart into my training, guiding me through the challenges and rewards of training at a world-class dance institution.

My Danya!

6. Daniel Loya - I didn't want to put him near the top because mom should always get first mention and he doesn't like the spotlight. But, obviously, my soon to be husband and partner of 10 years grabs a spot on this list. Not only has Dan been my partner in life, but he has been my best friend, my mentor, my guide, and my rock. I can't imagine too many husbands that would willingly support their partner traveling non-stop for over 4 years to let them fulfill their career and dreams. All of my decisions are filtered through him and he makes me a better person by allowing me to be me and do what I love. I look forward to legalizing the bond that we already share over Memorial day weekend in 2016.

Visiting Ray last year

7. Ray Hoekstra - Every gay man should befriend an older gay man that has thrived before them. The first week that I met Dan he met Ray while watching me perform with Pacific Northwest Ballet, where Ray was a donor for the company. A month later, Dan forced me to meet Ray between a matinee and evening show in the throes of Nutcracker season. While I was reluctant to skip my daily Nutcracker nap, boy was I glad that he connected us. Ray, nearly 40 years my senior, became one of my closest friends and the person I looked to when I needed a role model to follow. Whether learning about being gay in times when people like me were persecuted, how to order a meal at a fancy restaurant, what it was like to watch your loved one's get sick during the AIDS epidemic, how to order a classy drink, or how to give back to the organizations that you believe in, Ray has always been the epitome of a classy gentleman. I have been so honored to have this man as a friend and I look forward to passing his legacy on as I grow older (and younger, just like him).

Cathy Moran

8. Cathy Moran - Ms. Cathy didn't run the first dance school that I attended, but she directs the school I grew up at and where I became passionate about dance. Not only did Cathy give me the gift of dance through a scholarship that allowed me to take classes my family would have never been able to afford. She showed me what it was to be a generous woman who is purely invested in her students. When I needed a male teacher to guide me, Cathy found one. When I needed to see what the world had to offer, she told me to try out other dance schools without jealousy. When I needed to make a mistake and quit a class to attend my 8th grade school dance, she offered me caution and understanding towards a decision that eventually guided me even closer to dance. Ms. Cathy cultivated a place where I was able to grow, be myself, and fall in love with my art form.

Kelly & me (Left: 1987 & Right: 2015)

9. Kelly Wolfe - This lovely lady and I go all the way back to the womb. Our parents were pregnant with us at about the same time. After we were brought on to this Earth, we had pictures in the paper of our diapers being changed, ran around farms playing games, and spent many of our waking hours together. Around the age of 5, the women's group that brought our parents together dissolved and, for some reason or another, our parents stopped meeting up with one another. Aside from one time, Kelly and I didn't see each other for nearly a decade. Then, on the first day of high school, we found each other to be in the same first period history class and reunited. Even after nearly a decade without communication, we picked up where we left off. To this day, we are still in close contact even though we live across the country from each other. Kelly is somebody who has always understood, trusted, supported, and believed in me. She is always that person who drops anything to make sure that we get to spend time together. If I had one female soulmate in my life, it would very likely be this lady.

Jock Soto w/Wendy Whelan (Photo: Paul Kolnik)

10. Jock Soto -When I went to the School of American Ballet, I had given up a Corps de Ballet job position with Colorado Ballet to train at my dream school. Soon after I had shifted my move from Denver to New York, Peter Martins selected 7 advanced level male students to move up into the now defunct elite level of the school, Special Men. When the list for this group of men went up, I was devastated to find that I had given up a job and didn't make the cut. Immediately, Jock stepped up to the plate and guided me forward. He suggested I attend the lower level Intermediate classes he taught, stood by my side correcting me at barre, and offered me valuable advice to push forth. By Thanksgiving break, I had heard the great news that I was being moved up into that elite level class. I have this man to thank for that.

Leigh Witchel

11. Leigh Witchel - The first time that Leigh and I were introduced was shortly after my School of American Ballet workshop. He was sitting in the audience to review the show (link here) and I happened to briefly run into him in my post show bliss at the old Lincoln Center plaza. I didn't really get to know Leigh until I returned to the east coast in 2011 to perform at the Guggenheim's Works and Process series, where Leigh acted as moderator for the event. During rehearsals, Leigh pulled me aside and reminded me that we had met years ago and that he had warmly enjoyed my graduation performance. After this, we began to cultivate a relationship that has grown into a great friendship. Over the past few years as I have drifted, floated, and soared around the country, Leigh has acted as a friend, confidante, and mentor to help me through highs, lows, and in building this new stage of my career. While I have many people interested in what I have been doing in my career over the past 4 1/2 years, I have not had many people interested in helping cultivate me into a better person, dancer, choreographer, businessman, and artist. Leigh has been a careful, caring, and honest guide mentor as I find my way as a maturing artist.

Abby & me in Swan Lake at PNB

12. Abby Relic - Mine Cootah! Don't ask. Abby and I have known each other since she was a Professional Division student and I was a Corps member at PNB. While we didn't connect closely during her first period living in Seattle, we got close quickly after she moved back to Seattle to join PNB after dancing in Portland and Cincinnati. As an adult, Abby has been one of my closest friends. She is smart, she get's me, and she is one of the only people who can truly make me belly laugh. As our friendship has grown, Abby has taught me how to accept people for who they are through both example and love. Her outlook on life is beautiful and she exudes warmth and joy to those around her. Plus, she has the laughter of a child!

Claudio Munoz teaching at HBA (Photo: Bruce Bennett

13. Claudio Munoz - This teacher who made this clean mouthed teenage boy scream "FUCK" at the top of his lungs as he landed a double tour definitely showed me what it means to be passionate about teaching. While Claudio has unconventional approaches to teaching, my time with him during my first summers away from home at Houston Ballet Academy put me on the right track to have a professional career. Whether using my voice to show the force of movement or screaming at me until I got it right (then giving me a hug to let me know that he was always on my side), Claudio intensely supports his students through their final years of training. When I need to find a way to get through to a student, I often imagine how Claudio would go about the task.

14. Chris Thomae - As I've mentioned before, I didn't grow up in a family with great financial resources. And like I have said in previous posts, I was definitely raised by the village. Chris was a strong force in my village. While I first met him as a kid in the masculine discipline of Tae Kwon Do, Chris was interested in all things culture. He loved dance, food, theatre, and more. Coming from the suburbs and having limited access to culture, Chris made sure that I sampled things like Vietnamese food, saw plays at the local theatres, learned how to play pool, and knew to read books that shared opposing views to my upbringing. While we are no longer in contact, Chris helped develop my hunger for new culture and openness towards the unknown.

Lauren & me

15. Lauren Bentley -I first met Lauren when we were in pre-school together. After switching schools in second grade, we ended up crossing paths again when we were in the same sixth grade class. We had a childhood love affair and broke up a few months later, which kept me from talking to her for nearly a year. After that year had passed, I quickly came to my senses that we had to remain close friends because we were always on each other's side. In eighth grade, Lauren and her mom generously introduced me to New York City by letting me tag along for a bus trip to see a Broadway show and to explore the city. As we moved through high school, Lauren was one of the few people that I would hang out with outside of dance classes. When I graduated from SAB, Lauren's family came up to New York City to support me in the city that they introduced me to. While we don't see each other as often as I would like, I know that wherever I am, she is exuding that quiet, calm sense of support that she carries with her.

Grandmom

16. Bernice Beck - My grandmother passed away about a decade ago. She had a head of silver hair, a voice like Patti and Selma from the Simpsons, and a love for tradition. What she loved more than tradition was me. Along with my mother, my grandmother would support me even if it meant taking the shirt off of her back. She would do everything possible, including sending letters to friends and businesses to help support me on my way to become a professional dancer. She was at every performance and would sit in the audience shouting my name as the curtain dropped. This woman was the epitome of family and support.

Boyd hanging out w/Puck in the physical therapy room

(LAST MINUTE NEW YEARS EDIT!!!!!! In my AK-BK Intensive Winter Workshop exhaustion, I was racking my brain to come up with this list of lovely people. And I realized that I missed one person that really means a lot to me and has made a huge difference in my life. And in the spirit of the new year and starting on a positive note, why not turn this list into 17 for good measure. This important person that I left off my list is none other than the wonderful Boyd Bender. Boyd came into my life right after I moved to Seattle to join Pacific Northwest Ballet. He works with the company as their virtuoso physical therapist. While Mr. Bender's purpose with the company is to keep dancers onstage, he functions as an integral process to the dancer's mental health. During my time with the company, Boyd quickly became much more to me than Bender the Mender. Growing up with a handful of male figures in my life, I still never really felt like I had a true father figure. The kind of man that is my idea of a true man; thoughtful, calming, generous, caring, funny, and in control of his emotions though unafraid to be emotional. Boyd came into my life when I needed a father figure to show me how to be a man. I'm much the adult I am today thanks to this guy! Happy New Year! )

Giving Everything for Your Art (or not)

Performing Mary Anthony's Threnody (Photo: Bill Hebert)

When I was a young, freshly professional 19 year old near-child moving thousands of miles away from home to join Houston Ballet, I was a bit of a bunhead. Actually, let's be honest here. I'm still a complete and total bunhead. During my short year with the company, I became great friends with my fellow Apprentice and (now) new Houston Ballet faculty member Alex Pandiscio (proud shoutout). We in our bunheaded glory would sit at his apartment sipping beer, watching ballet DVDs (or VHS :-o), and debate about everything from technique to artistry to production quality. When I left to join Pacific Northwest Ballet, I really missed having a friend that was equally, if not more passionate about our art form.

Once I got into the swing of things at PNB, more often than not, I found dancers trying to fill the gap between living your life as a dancer and living your life and dancing for a living. If I suggested a ballet viewing night, people would tease me. If I wanted to sit down for drinks after work and talk about technique, people would quickly ask to change the subject. Here I was, in one of the most inspiring companies in the country seeking greater inspiration than an 8-hour workday. I found that many of my colleagues didn't want to make dance their lifestyle, which is perfectly fine. But I preferred the opposite. So, when I finally took the plunge and left PNB, it was easy for me to use this as one of the excuses for me to leave. I told myself that I needed to be surrounded by people who would give anything and everything for their art.

After making my way to Philadelphia, my 22-week seasonal contract meant that I would need to seek gigs in between work periods with the contemporary company I was dancing for. My first (and only) foray into the Philadelphia freelance scene was performing for a small modern company that is based on the technique of niche choreographer Mary Anthony. To be completely honest, it wasn't really my thing. But I went into life after PNB with an open mind as to where things would lead me. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was surrounded by people who would do anything for our art. Anything!

At PNB, I was used to rehearsing for productions anywhere from a few weeks to a few days before getting onstage to perform. Preparing for this Philly Fringe Festival show, we spent nearly 8 weeks rehearsing (granted it was only 6-8 hours per week) mostly after the sun had gone down. Dancers came into rehearsals late, and it was acceptable, because they had regular day jobs. It wasn't uncommon for heated discussions to happen as the work was restaged. Some dancers were much more vocal than any dancer would be in a ballet studio, while others were so happy to be dancing that they would do anything and everything necessary to be a part of the company. The contrast between strength and submission was great and utterly shocking to my ballet world expectations. Beyond all of this, pay was only guaranteed to most dancers after tickets were sold or grants came through. This meant that some dancers didn't see any compensation for months after the work had been performed.

Some weeks before we performed, our group took a trip up to New York City to work with Mary Anthony herself. She was still kicking (barely) at the ripe old age of 94 years old. We were to have rehearsal with this woman, who cultivated an intensely respectful cult following, at her studios. This rehearsal would be followed by us sharing the work in a fundraising open rehearsal. While a few dancers had dropped hints, nobody prepared me for what I was about to see or experience.

After taking an elevator to the 8th floor of a building between St. Marks and NYU that housed the Mary Anthony Dance Studios (where she was still teaching class twice a week), we were dropped off on her floor and immediately turned right into the dressing rooms. We had been sitting on a Bolt Bus for a few hours, so I had been holding my bladder for a long time. I turned to one of my fellow modern dancers and asked where the bathroom was located. He simply responded, "Walk through the lobby, past Mary's bedroom, and it will be on the left." The comment didn't really add up to me. My first thought, "Oh, Mary lives here? I guess the studio is bigger than I expected." Nope! I walked out of the dressing room and laying right behind the front desk was Mary Anthony resting on her bed. YES, right behind a desk in the lobby.

Mary Anthony lived in her studio. The lobby consisted of a front desk, a bed, a dining room table, and a door to the bathroom. The dressing rooms tripled as a place to put your clothes on, the food pantry, and a litter box area for her cat that roamed the 8th floor. Between the lobby and studio was a small cove for a kitchen. The sacred dance studio was just a dance studio. The place wasn't in disarray, but it wasn't very clean, there were nails sticking out of the nearly plywood dance floor, and there were cans of roach spray in every room.

In my culture shock, I walked through the bedroom, past the kitchen, and into the dance studio for warm-up. As I felt a nail poke my foot through the foot-blackening wooden floor, my chest tightened and another dancer must have seen the panic in my heart. She looked at me and said, "No nail here. I'll switch spots." After getting our sweat on while Mary Anthony was awakened and prepped for rehearsal, a quietly stoic figure walked with assistance into her proud home one inch at a time. She sat in rehearsal without changing expressions. When a correction needed to be made, she whispered into her adoring former dancer's ear. And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, this woman raised her voice into a boom. She stared at me with eyes dilating, "you are a SAILOR! you've had a HARD LIFE! YOU'RE...TOO...PRETTY!" That was the most she said that day. But it was said that she was most her former self in that one moment.

Performing Mary Anthony's Threnody - Me on the right (Photo: Bill Hebert)

Our open rehearsal had a minimal showing of support. We enjoyed wine and hors d'ouevres in the lobby immediately after performing Ms. Anthony's work. Living to the frail age of 94 must be exhausting, so Mary's assistant put her to sleep. To paint the clearest picture possible, Ms. Anthony lay on her back asleep in her bed, eyes covered with a floral sleep mask as dancers multiple generations past Mary's prime sipped wine and chatted around her frail sleeping form. As I stood over Mary, sipping my dry wine, and appearing to listen to another dancer talk about their next gig, I had an utterly deep realization. Maybe there is such a thing as giving too much to your art.

On the bus ride back to Philly over a smuggled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, the dancers who had shared this experience previously told me about their first venture to the Mary Anthony Dance Studios. I think the thing about most shock is that you can only be shocked by the same thing once. These dancers now saw this experience as commonplace to learning a Mary Anthony work. As stories continued to flow, I learned that many in the dance community considered her a legend in the same realm as Graham and Limon. Mary started her own company, and since many of the dancers whom she hired had difficulty finding work in the prime time of the classical modern dance era, her dancers not only adored the woman but saw her as a motherly idol. Mary was not so nice in her less frail days. But she was passionate and had a very clear vision. She also performed well into her 70's. At one point, as her studio was struggling to survive, Mary was offered a tenured position to teach at New York University. But Mary felt that she would have sold out by taking that position. So, she chose to continue living the life she did. One where the line blurred between studio and home, work and life.

Performing Mary Anthony's Gloria (Photo: Bill Hebert)

Near the end (Mary had impressively lived over 2 years after this experience), it became clear that Mary had completely and utterly devoted her life to her art form. And I have such an incredible respect that she was able to remain so honest to her values as an artist. But meeting and working directly with somebody who had such great dedication and longevity that her life and art fused into one entity without care for quality of life taught me a very valuable lesson.

We all devote ourselves to this beautifully painful art form to one degree or another. Some people leave dance at work, others bring it home with them. And for others, dance is literally their home. I used to be more judgmental about how people that call dance a career chose to make it a part of their lives. But after this experience, I view things quite differently. I'd give most everything in my life to be a part of this art form. And while I don't look down on people who do give absolutely everything to this art form regardless of their well-being, I find that it is best to find a middle ground that makes one feel fulfilled and equally alive as a human being. As we are not dancers living as people. We are people living as dancers.