The Beauty of the Ballet

The first job I remember wanting, at the age of 5, was to be a ballerina. My mum and I went to see Sleeping Beauty performed by the Moscow City Ballet at the Theatre Royal in Brighton at the end of January. Our favourite ballet performed beautifully reminded me why I had wanted to succeed at ballet. Indeed, my heart fluttered and soared as I watched the incredible dancing, and a little part of me wondered why I hadn't pursued that particular childhood dream. But then, at the age of 5, I also wanted to be a nurse like Mummy, and a teacher because I loved school and admired my teacher. Then I discovered I was very good at writing stories, and so a career in writing was what I decided on and that hasn't changed.

I started ballet lessons when I was 3 - I even had a pair of ballet pumps ready, which I had worn as a bridesmaid at my uncle's wedding just before I started classes. I loved the dancing, the pretty pink leotard with a little skirt, the tie-over cardigan, even better my pink tutu for shows. I once got the lead, when I was 6, as the rose fairy in my class' dance for our summer show. I liked being pretty and girly. Yet my teacher was a dragon. She was good at heart, I think, but quite strict. Bad grand plies were spotted a mile off. She had me in tears once when she threatened to hammer my feet to the floor if I didn't improve my turn-out. For a young child that is a pretty terrifying prospect!

Despite this I very much enjoyed ballet and performing, but by the age of 7 I was becoming more of a tomboy and I had a huge interest in my school work, especially writing stories! At the age of 9 I left ballet altogether. I didn't regret it, I knew I would always love it, but there were other things that were more important to me and I didn't have the dedication to continue.

Dedication. That is the word.

Whilst Sleeping Beauty was stunning, the dancing fantastic, I felt a pang of melancholy as I thought of where that dedication can lead. One dancer was painfully thin. True they were all very slim, but she looked like she was starving. Yet, she had a boundless energy and a beaming smile that just didn't compute with her emaciated appearance. I don't know how common they are in the industry, but I have heard the term 'eating-disorder' associated with ballet more than once...

My husband and I went to see Black Swan on cinema the following week. It was a brilliant film, although perhaps not one of my favourites. It is less about ballet and more about control and perfection. The main character, Nina, whose main aim is perfection as a dancer, needs to learn to lose control and yield to her darker side in order to dance the Black Swan, as well as the White Swan, in her company's production of Swan Lake. As you watch Nina's transformation in character you do come to appreciate that there is a darker side to ballet and such hard work.

As a remedy to this (often scary!) film, whilst my husband was studying one Sunday afternoon, I indulged in watching a favourite chick flick, Center Stage, about a group of ballet students at the American Ballet Academy in New York, preparing for the end-of-year workshop that will determine their future careers. The top student, Maureen, is pushed by her ambitious mother who was unable to become a successful dancer herself (like Nina's mother in Black Swan). Maureen is a perfect ballerina but she finds no true joy in it. The main character, Jody, on the other hand loves dancing more than anything but almost misses being cast in the workshop due to her "bad feet" and "poor turn-out." Luckily Cooper Nielson, the American Ballet Company's top male dancer, spots Jody's potential and gives her the main role in his ballet for the workshop. In the workshop Jody is a roaring success because she dances so beautifully - "you can't take your eyes off her." Maureen, however, ultimately realises she is doing ballet for her mum and not for herself, so she abandons her role as the lead in the company director's ballet at the last minute, allowing the rebellious but amazing dancer, Eva, to shine in her stead. It's a cheesy story (although the dancing is fab) but the ideas in it ring true.

Ballet is hard work. It is about control. Without it the focus would be gone for those moments of pure balance. But ballet is also about beauty. The Moscow City Ballet danced as though that was what they were designed to do - naturally, freely, beautifully. You couldn't take your eyes off them. Only at one point was the control noticeable, when you could see the concentration on Princess Aurora's face, when she had to stand in a prolonged position of attitude (on one leg) whilst she greeted her row of suitors. But then who could argue with control when you've got to stay in a position like that!?

I could never have got to that stage if I'd continued with ballet. I do not have the dedication. I always want to be at the point of pirouetting freely so I appear to be flying without the hard work it takes to get there. And that applies to life too. Patience is something I am still learning. Hard work too. One day the words I write will be a full novel and someone somewhere will love what I have written. But that won't be tomorrow. Dancing or writing - control and freedom, patience and dedication, passion and beauty. All ingredients are needed. But it will be worth it. Because one day you will make someone's heart flutter and soar, as the Moscow City Ballet did for me, and that is really what it is all about.

Wait a Minute...We're in 2011!?

Right, so I haven't blogged for far too long. That now must change. I need to write more. I want to write more. I must write more. God has told me, my husband has told me, my friends have told me, my doctor has told me. I have told me.

*slap wrists for sloppy blogging*

Here's to a better year in terms of writing, huzzah!

Afternoon Tea

Oh how elegant and refined it is to spend an autumn afternoon drinking tea and scoffing cake. Ok, so scoffing cake may not be elegant and refined per se, but it is damn good fun, and an excellent time was had by all!



Yesterday we went to a friend's birthday party in London. The birthday girl had done a marvellous spread of sandwiches, scones and cakes, and created a truly 1940s feel - vintage tea cups, bunting, and 1940s music provided the proper afternoon tea atmosphere. It was great to catch up with people, to celebrate a combined birthday and engagement (so therefore much talking about weddings!), and of course, to consume copious amounts of tea and cake, huzzah!


Photos my own.

Christian Camp!

Back in August, along with a group of friends from church, we attended Momentum. Momentum came out of Soul Survivor, held annually at the Bath & North West Somerset Showground near Shepton Mallet, specifically for students and those in their 20s. We were both nervous at the concept of going to "Christian Camp". Up for it, but a little bit scared! Well it was awesome!

It is a festival rather than a camp - we did sleep in tents, and have to share communal toilets and showers (they weren't bad as far as camping standards normally go!) - but there was no Koom-biyah around the fire or silly games - unless you wanted to do those things of course. There was just a lot, a very lot, of JESUS. And Jesus based stuff. Seminars, cafes, stands, bookshop, prayer room, chat room, all dedicated to our Saviour and our relationship with Him, and it was pretty fab! The highlight was the main meetings held in the Big Top, apparently the biggest tent in Europe. Here, all 4,500 people would come together to spend time with God, worshipping Him, learning from Him, and allowing His Spirit to work in us and show us His will for our lives, and His pure, never-failing love for us.

Stuff at work has been exceptionally tough recently, and it was reaching a horrible point before we went away to Momentum. God really blessed me while we were away, and although things at work haven't changed dramatically He has made me stronger and much more able to deal with the current situation. We sang some amazing new worship songs during the Big Top meetings, but one struck me above all the others, which was 'Our God' by Chris Tomlin. We sang it on the first night, and during the chorus (as below), God really spoke to me. He is so much greater than any other, and it is in Him that we find our strength.

Our God is greater,
Our God is stronger,
God You are higher than any other!
Our God is healer,
Awesome in power,
Our God, Our God.

And if our God is for us
Then who could ever stop us?
And if our God is with us
Then what can stand against?

Here is a clip of Mike Pilavachi and Andy Croft giving a little look back at the awesome Christian festival we spent a few very soggy days in August at.

And yes, we do want to go back next year!

So Very Special

Further to my post on Love I think our wedding day summed it all up perfectly - God, family, friends, and love all there on that significant day in our lives. We didn't want the day to end. It really was so very special.




Photos by Jess Foreman, our wedding photographer

Love

This could be seen as the cop-out post. But I don't feel well and want to get this post written so I can return to normal blogging!

Basically, the my last 4 entries: Friends, God, Weddings, and Family all speak of Love and show Love. And so I would just be repeating myself.

So, without meaning to sound too much like Hugh Grant in Love Actually - here's to Love in all it's many forms! Without it life would be meaningless. It is the only thing that sustains through thick and thin. It constantly breathes hope. It makes this life so very worth living.

Family

So I’ve not written on my blog for ages. But that has something to do with getting married a month and a half ago and time flying by!

So here I am again, now a married woman, and here to finish the little series on my top tags, and then to hopefully continue blogging as normal :)

Two weeks before our wedding I moved back in with my family. I need not go into the reasons why now, but going back meant returning to an atmosphere of regular arguments and lots of irritation. When you have lived away from home since university, going back for more than a couple of nights can be pretty difficult. I always seem to resort to my old teenage self – answering my dad back constantly, finding my brother’s taste in music incredibly annoying, and finding my mum’s nagging more than I can bear. However, whilst these things do happen, they are far outweighed by the joy of being family. Yes, there are issues in our family, just like there are in many others. But I am incredibly blessed to have a family that is still together, that love each other and support each other through thick and thin, and who were willing to take me back into the home to live for what is the final and probably most stressful stage of the wedding planning. That is love, that is patience, that is kindness, and that is being part of something. I have a really good relationship with my mum, being her only daughter and someone she can do girly things with, and can buy pretty things for (hehe, can’t complain about that). My dad and I argue a lot and often struggle to understand each other, but he has real strength when I am struggling with things, and his love is always clearest when I have made a mess of things, or when my computer is misbehaving! And, my brothers are two of my best friends. The eldest and I are closest in age – we often know what the other is thinking, share each other’s thoughts, and are naturally protective of each other. The youngest and I have very similar, slightly crazy, personalities and would probably be friends even if we weren’t siblings.

My family have been an unswerving foundation of love and support through life - from all those little tantrums and mad moments through to my exams, several essays, two dissertations, moving home many times, fundraising to go to Brazil, and most recently the wedding.

The wedding was wonderful and we didn't want it to end, but none of it, including the honeymoon afterwards, would have been possible without both mine and my husband's families. They gave us so much more than financial support - they all helped us move our tonnes of stuff from our house share with friends to the flat we have started married life in, my husband's brother was the best man, my brothers were ushers - the youngest was also the Master of Ceremonies at the reception and he also co-wrote with me the stories which went on each table. My mum helped with choosing the flowers. My dad, who has wonderful italic handwriting, wrote the invitations. Our brothers helped make the invitations and orders of service, along with a couple of our fab friends. My mum, her youngest sister, and my brothers helped make the placenames in a mad rush the day before the wedding. My dad selected all the wine, being a bit of a conneisseur of such things. And on the day itself they were all brilliant!

I am close to them all, as aforementioned, although my dad and I often have differences of opinion, argue a fair amount, and don't get to talk as much as I do with the others. The moments spent alone with him in the car on the way to the church were some of the most special we've ever spent together. I was proud to walk up the aisle arm in arm with him; I have never seen him enjoying himself as much as he did at our wedding. And that is a case in point - often we take our families for granted but precious moments like this cause our hearts to swell in love and gratitude, and you know that you wouldn't have them any other way.