Sometimes I forget what really matters and what I am doing. One of my guilty pleasures is watching “So You Think You Can Dance”. “I KNOW I Can’t Dance” would be the name of my reality show, but I love to watch others dance. And after taking 21 college hours of dance, I especially appreciate the difficulty and artistry it takes to dance. SYTYCD usually has very intricate, difficult and occasionally moving pieces. I will record it and then find a time to watch it alone, so I can rewind and ooh and ah over the amazing talent of the young dancers. My guys don’t get it, even when I make them sit and watching something I find truly spectacular.
Yesterday I finally found time to watch the latest episode. It was towards the end of the show, during a number that included the 7 female finalists, that I found tears running down my face. It wasn’t a sad, intentional cry, it was emotional tears that I was totally unaware of until I felt them tickle my cheek. The women danced beautifully, but it was the feelings they conjured up that took it to a whole different level. It spoke to love and sisterhood and support. But it also spoke to art and beauty. After it was over, one of the judges of the show said she was so moved and that was why she loved dance. In her day to day life she didn’t get that release of emotion. While carpooling and cooking and cleaning she didn’t feel that which we had all just felt. And I knew she was right.
I have always said that art- music, theatre, visual art, dance, are God’s gift to us. With all we do and endure in a day, God presents us with the perfect way to experience all that life is meant to be through art. It makes us laugh, cry, think, get angry and see truth. It takes us out of our own world and takes us to a new place. It puts us above for just a short time, but it is long enough to change our very being. I have always felt sorry for anyone who could not lose themselves looking at art or creating art of some sort.
This morning I attended a funeral for a man who was a great guy, but also a very well respected musician. He has influenced church music world wide for decades. During his funeral someone talked about being able to sing words that can not be said and that music brings joy, even during sadness. And that is true. I would be so bold to as say art of many forms can do that. More art in the world might mean less hatred, less fighting, and more joy.
Lately I have thought my trying to act and sing was frivolous and took me away from the important things I needed to be doing, like cleaning house and doing laundry. I decided my family needs me more than I need to be out pursuing such nonsense. And then I am moved by a dance, touched by a song and I remember why I ever loved theatre to begin with. It is the perfect blend of every art form and has the potential to change everything. We dance, sing, paint scenery, sew costumes, play instruments, and act to bring together something ethereal and new each time we perform.What greater calling could we have? I should not bemoan the time spent at the theatre, I should embrace each moment I can be there.
I know that I have made little difference with what I have done in theatre. But any difference, however small, is important. And sometimes it is merely striving that God honors. So although I forget sometimes that not only is what I want to do worthy of doing, I am worthy of being the one to do it. And sometimes I forget that I am not wasting time, I am honoring my passion by sharing it with others, through teaching and example. And although I forget that God will use me wherever I am, I know that out in the world I am more useful than hiding in my kitchen. So for all of my fear and insecurities I will not forget that I have a desire and that maybe, just maybe I have that desire because God needs me out there, doing something beyond myself. I will try not to forget.
