Nostalgia

Nostalgia is the sweetest stomach ache I have ever experienced. Recently I returned back to my dancing queen roots: Sweet Briar College. There, Laura and I are learning a new dance piece set by choreographer Mark Magruder. Mark and consequently his wife Ella were my dance professors in undergrad. The past two days I have had a chance to baske in the familiarity of what I once considered to be home. Unfortunately, I have noticed that despite my absence the place has changed quite a bit. Not that I expected the institution to collapse completely without me, but it certainly reminded me of how that old adage rings all too true. You can never really go home again because your home is more than a physical entity. Rather it is made of individuals, who like their surroundings, evoke change and continue evolving regardless of your presence. The memory of what you cling too as home no longer exists in the the present reality. Nevertheless, I have really enjoyed spending quality time with my dancing parents better known as the Magruders. They live and eat and breath dance. More to the point, they live and eat and breath art. They make a living by actualizing their passions as artists. Just being in the same room is certainly inspiring and motivational to admit the least. The Magruders always know how to stay the uneasy, less traveled course. From their example, I learned how to carve out my niche as dancer. For me, this choreographic experience is not at all about physical innovation as I had previously thought it would be. Now do not be mistaken. I am not saying my body does not scream with blisters, floor burns, muscle aches and so much more. I am simply explaining that it is over shadowed by the memory of not only home but of how much I had forgotten who and what I wanted to be until this project.