Dancing and Aging

Like most dancers (and most women), I can be hypercritical of my body. As women, we tell ourselves that "everyone hates something about their bodies" and "if it weren't for xyz on my body, I would be happy/wealthy/successful/loved".

I can't remember meeting anyone who didn't feel that way about themselves and in fact, if a woman was happy with her body, then she was criticized by others: "how dare she think she's perfect?" and "did you see her thighs?" And on and on.

But there is a difference between thinking you're perfect and being happy with the way you look. And if you do think you're perfect, then more power to you, because it takes a lot of inner strength to inure yourself to others' opinions.

As dancers, though, our self-critics are not just fully employed, they work overtime. Not only do we have to contend with the physical image we see in all those mirrors! We also have to contend with what our bodies can do. And as we age, they can do less and less.

(They can also do more and more...I'll get to that in a minute.)

Our aging is so evident because one day we can do several pirouettes and the next day, just one. This week our legs can developpe to 150 degrees but next week, it's barely above 90 if we're lucky. Jete battu? Saute cabriole? Italian fouette? Oh please no! Let's just do another port de bras and call it a day.

There it is in stark black-and-white-and-marley-gray. We are aging. We are weakening. We are no longer the best in the class. We no longer get chosen for the best roles. 

We become invisible.

Invisibility has to be the biggest blow to one's ego when one is a dancer. We practice for years for people to watch us on stage, to be noticed in the classroom by the teacher and other dancers. As we age, we become less relevant in the dance world.

If we're completely honest, ballet is painful. Not just emotionally but physically. Few people have natural turnout or the kinds of physical gifts needed to make the art form easier on the body. To achieve some of the kinds of things we want to do (or if we were forced to do them by teachers when we were young) we had to compromise our bodies. We had to give up time to rest and heal after an injury because we were performing at the time. We had to push ourselves harder than anyone else. We might have self-diagnosed because we couldn't afford a doctor and proper treatment. So years later, we have scar tissue buildup, muscles that are not balanced, and poor alignment. Women (and many men) who had/have eating disorders might also suffer from osteoporosis.

When we get to 40s, 50s, 60s, we often say "no more" to ballet. We discover yoga or another exercise that is less painful on our joints but really? We're afraid ballet doesn't want us anymore so we leave. If we're competitive people (and dancers often are simply because of the nature of the dance world), we often don't want to be seen at our lower points. Our egos get too easily bruised.

So...should the aging dancer just leave ballet behind? Should we turn our backs on the art form we spent years studying, whose discipline shaped our brains and bodies?

If you are indeed "broken," whether in body or spirit, no amount of talk from me is going to make you return to ballet. And that's fine. You have to do what is best for you. But if your soul is still connected to ballet, or dance in general, don't go! 

Find a different way to dance.

That can mean lots of things, depending on who you are. It can mean taking a beginner class instead of an advanced one. It can mean concentrating on demi-plie instead of grand plie. It may mean skipping one of the petit allegro exercises or modifying them so you can complete them in your own way. It may mean finding a different teacher, one who accepts that you won't be doing everything or that you won't be doing everything as choreographed.

There is, without a doubt, something you do well. It might be an arabesque. You might still turn well. You might have excellent balance. Whatever it is, acknowledge it and embrace it. Develop it. Look for it in every exercise you do. For me, that's adagio. I don't have the turns I once did, nor the super fast feet, but I have balance and precision. So when I approach every combination, those are the things I look for. The result is increased confidence, increased presence in the class. I look like I am enjoying myself because I am. I love it. I love dance. I love ballet.

I'll bet you do too.

I was feeling pretty good yesterday - far from perfect, I know my body is nothing like it used to be. Can it be better? Probably. Can I make it better? Maybe. Do I hate it a lot of the time? Yup. I sure do.

But yesterday I didn't hate it. I was taking class for myself and was happy to not be in pain, as I frequently am, happy I could releve and hold my balance at the barre, happy I could perform the adagio well, happy that my body was doing things I wanted to do. So I took a picture. I wanted to be able to look at this picture and think, "that's a moment I liked my body, that I appreciated what it could do."  I wanted to see it and be reminded that it wasn't a super thin body that did what I wanted. It wasn't a super young body that did what I wanted. It was a middle-aged, average size body but I was still able to make it do things that I loved doing and was proud of.

Don't leave ballet. Just find a different way to love it.

I am the dancer I always wanted to be...

Can I do as many pirouettes as I used to when I was younger? No.

Can I jump as high as I used to? No.

Can I beat or do allegro as fast as I used to? No. Of course not. All of these things diminish with age. But other things improve: my adagio has more expression, my extension is higher, my stamina is just as strong. I have learned where to cheat! I have learned when to stop, or pause, or let my body rest.

I have learned the most important lesson of all: I appreciate my body and what it can do - at this moment. To mourn the loss of speed and height and power is a waste of time. Better to understand and appreciate what I can do and keep doing it. As we age, our bodies change - our centers of gravity change, our ability to point and plie lessen - but we can still dance.

Plus I have an advantage over younger dancers - and my younger self: I have no ego, no need to compete with others. I dance for myself. Yes, certainly, I am vain to a degree, as all of us are. I want to look good, long and lean. But to worry about others, about what they can do better than I, is - again - a waste of time. I know so many dancers my age who are crazy about the "other" in class. They attempt to compete with teens who fly through the air. This is futile. Those teens don't even know my friends exist.

I also know my body better than younger dancers. After all, my body and I have been around a lot longer; I've had a lot more time to get to know it, to experience what it can do and can't, what looks good on it and what doesn't.

And for this reason, I am the teacher I always wanted to be. I feel like I can finally see in others what they can't see in themselves. I can see what their bodies can do before they can. And I want them to be the best dancers they can be. I don't compete with them - I have no need. A teacher who competes with her students has very low self-esteem.

A good teacher wants her dancers to be better than she is. A great teacher makes them better than she is. I am good; I want to be great.

Am I Too Old To Dance?

Margot Fonteyn was a prima ballerina into her 50s. Here she is at age 55. Gorgeous.

While I'm waiting for my fab webmaster to post a new video, I thought I'd address this question. When I teach adults, I hear the comment, "I'm too old" a lot. And I admit, I have used it myself from time to time. But in reality, the answer is a resounding, NO! It's never too late to begin dancing and you're never too old to continue. My personal goal is to dance until I'm in my 90s! I want to be that very old woman still doing demi-plies and tendus at the barre alongside the youngsters. And I'll probably only be doing demis - no grande plies! LOL!

The key to lifelong dancing is patience. Be patient when you are injured. Be patient when you are learning something new. Be patient when you approach the barre, the center and jumps. I think the biggest mistake dancers make - regardless of their age - is that they rush in too fast. They don't warm up their muscles properly before they begin their barre. They don't work properly when they jump. They don't take time off to heal themselves after an injury.

1. As you get older, your muscles need more time to warm up. Think of them as frozen rubber bands: they need to thaw out before you stretch them.

2. Dancing properly at the barre - working on alignment, keeping your heels down when you plie - has a major impact on your work in the center. If you don't demi plie properly with your hips lifted up the front, your weight over your toes, and opening from the top of the thighs, you will definitely feel it in the center. You won't maintain your balance for turns and you won't get decent height in your jumps.

3. Injuries happen for a multitude of reasons as you age. Simply walking down the street in the wrong pair of shoes can tweak your ankle or your arch. Now imagine that in dance class. Sometimes things just happen and you can't prevent it. Accept it and move on. Don't blame yourself or your technique (not always!).

4. Injuries take more time to heal. If you don't give yourself time to recover, you will find yourself nursing that injured body part again and again. Rest. Rest. Rest. There is always another day to dance, another class you can take. A few days or a week away is NOT the end of the world.

Remember, the goal is to dance for the rest of your life, not just today. Take care of your body, work properly, pay attention to what is changing within you - and you'll dance forever. With me!

Happy dancing~