Come and dance here at the crossroads

A very important bit of information about me is that I'm slightly obsessive. It happens most with shows. There's the nine times I saw the Broadway revival of Sweeney Todd - when I still lived in Virginia (and I saw it on tour in Boston my first year of college, too). There's the nine times I saw the Broadway revival of Gypsy (while living inn New York, so less impressive than Sweeney.) There's the five times I saw Forever Plaid at Swift Creek Mill (and two times Plaid Tidings), and the four(?) times I saw Austin's Bridge at Firehouse.

Then there's also the four times I went to Junaluska this week. Monday, Tuesday, yesterday, and today.

:)

Today, I continued an old tradition of mine. When I was a conferee at Lake J, I would get up early in the morning to walk or dance the labyrinth as the sun rose. I decided to do that again... but since I had a 50 minute drive, I ended up waking up at 4:30 instead of 5:30. I donned all white and my prayer shawl and headed out.

I have a special relationship to dance that I rarely ever talk about because it's deeply personal. It's also completely different than most people I know's relationship to dance. I'm not a trained dancer. Four years of show choir, sure, and I can bust out some mean African dance, but that's not like people who have been in ballet since they were two. My roommate Gillian is a trained dancer and her relationship with dance is beautiful and inspiring. When I think of dance, I think of something different than she does. (Which isn't better or worse or anything like that - it's just different.)

For me, dance is a primary way to viscerally connect with the Holy Spirit. For me, it is not about choreography, not about aesthetic beauty, not about perfection, not about the power of the body - it is about that connection. It is about the Spirit moving through me. There is a power and a beauty to that, but first and foremost, it is about that connection, and in that is celebration. The first time I ever remember dancing was when I was 10, in a class at Lake Junaluska, taught by an astounding woman, Kapp, who believes in this deeply, and walks daily with the Spirit. I became obsessed with this for years afterwards. We both returned to Lake Junaluska in 2007, and when she saw me walking around said, "I know her. She knows what I'm talking about. She's got what I've got." Later, I came to her class and told her that I'd taken her class 8 years before, and we connected beautifully. Being with her that week led to a lot of miraculous, exquisite experiences, one in particular that made Kapp insist on calling me "Kapp Jr," a title I carry close to my heart. (I also need to have a conversation with a particular theatre teacher of mine about trance possession based on that experience.)

Today's dance was at times faltering and at times exhilarating. Such it is in life. It is wonderful to know that God meets us wherever we are. The theologically beautiful part of Recurrent Brief Depression is that there are three days descended to the dead, and then resurrection. (Okay, so it's usually a little more than three days. Let me make my metaphor.)

Pray for me as far as school goes. Much has happened lately to remind me of school (well, more than usual), and I'm very torn. I need to set up a P.O. Box so my parents can forward me my studio evaluations (where each of our teachers writes out a paragraph about what they've observed this past semester, and notes things to work on. So useful. Much more useful than a letter grade), and we recently received an e-mail about curriculum changes that has caused quite a stir in Facebook-land. On one hand, I have found that when I think about all the people at PHTS, my heart absolutely bursts with love for all of the people there. It's almost ridiculous. I already loved them dearly, but perhaps the focus on loving everyone, the call of Christians, has made this love swell to be even greater. I'm so excited to be back there, sharing with them, learning from them, laughing with them, collaborating with them. (See, I'm even able to start using the word "collaborate" again!)

On the other hand, I'm terrified to go back, because I'm scared of slipping into old habits. Of careening off course again. Of losing the connection I've been working so hard to keep active. Most of all, I'm afraid of becoming too exhausted to carry on. That happened to me last semester and I never want to see it again. My show count is already up to five - four through PHTS (all required, so that's not me being crazy), and one GAP show, not through PHTS... and I'm trying to get on the team of certain mainstage that's interested in almost everything I'm interested in, though I don't know how well that's going to work out. It has me panicky. I know I can handle it. To say that I can't would be to diminish God within me. And I also know that these are fears that I'll absolutely face and that the only way to ensure that I can't do something is to say I can't and everything. I am just admitting that I am afraid, hoping that that fear will lead to well-placed caution and discipline. I trust God, and I trust PHTS, and I trust that God has led me here because it will teach me ways to minister to the world. (And indeed, it already has. You know how much of my philosophy on this blog is directly related to PHTS? There's a copious amount here that I can honestly trace back to my design classes.) My school's job is not to let me slide. Its job is to be hard and be difficult and be rigorous and to put me through the ringer so I'll come out better for it.

Still. Prayers are very much appreciated.

Also: Job is a really difficult book. It's magnificent, but rough. I couldn't've chosen Esther or something, I had to go and pick Job. So like me. I'm pumped.