Second cycle

I just need to stop apologizing and do something. And by "something" I mean write.

For a number of reasons, I decided to drop the philosophy (Critical Reasoning) course I'd registered for this summer quarter at Bellevue College. It was a hard decision... I hate the idea, even the thought of quitting. I'm not a quitter. Taking responsibility for my choices, staying the course, sticking it out - these concepts (mottos?) are deeply woven into the fiber of my being. It's called commitment - a word I fear many in my generation are unfamiliar with... And while this is just a community college course, I feel this strange sense of urgency, of intentionality... that every course I take will not only serve to fulfill my General Ed requirements, but will somehow be used in my life in the present and the future. But this is all beside the point. Not to mention a little dramatic? Um. Yes.
So what is the point, you ask? The point is, I eased my conscience by promising myself I'd use this quarter "off" to write, write, WRITE! Well so much for that... 

But I still have some time before fall quarter begins. Summer's not over yet! Shoot... here in the Northwest it feels like summer just started! 

What has started is my 8th season as a professional ballet dancer with Pacific Northwest Ballet. 

Wow. 

Has it really been that long? Am I really that old? Haha!!! I don't think that I'm that old. 

It seems like just yesterday that I received my first contract. That I was assigned shoe cubby number 27 with a little sliver plaque reading "Jessika Anspach" under it. That I claimed my locker between Lindsi Dec and Carrie Imler, which inevitably overflowed to the spaces above and across... Yes, I was kind of a mess. I still am.
And then poof! Seven years just flew by. Okay, they didn't fly by. Flying, in my mind, implies ease, or at the very least a lack of difficulty. Hmmm... But I've never "flown" before. I wonder if flying actually is difficult?
Wow. Rabbit trail. Sorry about that.
At any rate the past seven years haven't been "a piece of cake," a "walk in the park" or, my personal favorite, "easy peasy lemon squeezy." Then again I don't think anything having to do with ballet could ever be considered easy. It's like saying sandpaper's as smooth as a baby's butt, or walking on a bed of hot coals is fun.
But the struggles, the obstacles I've faced in arriving at where I am today were massive. Mountainous. Like Himalayas mountainous. Just ask our physical therapist Boyd Bender. He'd be the first to tell you that my body wasn't meant for dancing. Or ask any of my former PNBS teachers if they ever thought this dyslexic and daydreaming girl would ever have made it to the professional ranks. They'd probably laugh... I'm just remembering Abbie Siegel sweetly saying to me at barre: "No. Jessika. Left... your other left."
But the Everest of these obstacles, greater than dyslexia or any physical funkiness I have to deal with on a daily basis, was an unseen mountain buried deep within myself.
Call it Fear, Self-Loathing, or the Idol of Ballet and Self. They all apply. What it comes down to is that I put my identity, my confidence, my value and self-worth in how I looked and how I danced. Essentially I put my trust in ME, not in the Almighty and Sovereign Lord. So it's no surprise that over the past seven years these pillars built on sand have come toppling down. And pillars toppling hurts. A lot.
But praise God for His mercy, His grace and His sovereignty! He could have removed me completely from ballet - the thing I worshiped above Him - but His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. He had/has a plan for my life and ballet's a part of it, whether I want it or not (oddly enough there have been times when I haven't wanted it. At. All.) Miraculously He's kept me at PNB while building my pillars on Firm Foundation - on Him!
Through lots of prayer He's moved mountains for me. He's paved the way and has led me along His path. And after six years of struggle it felt like I'd finally exited the hard pruning season and finally began to see some buds blossoming.
As I said before last season was by far the best season I've ever had. The Lord blessed me with so many wonderful roles and opportunities to dance. I felt like I was challenged, pushed and therefore grew in a way I'd always hoped for but had yet to experience. And more than that I found my trust growing in Him, and my confidence rooted in Him. I am so humbled, so grateful and so in awe of the gifts He gives that are immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine. He is so good and so faithful!

And so I've begun Season 8. I'm now entering into what my dad terms as the "second cycle." The 2nd seven year stretch. I still have shoe cubby 27. I still dance at PNB. My left leg is still 1/4" longer than my right, and I still struggle with knowing my left from my "other left." But I have a new locker, and it's a new year. I am a new creation. I cannot go back to who I was before.

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" Isaiah 45:18-19

 It is going to be a good year. It is not going to look like last year, and so far it couldn't be more different. And it's hard. Hard to expect without expectations. Hard to not dwell on the past, even when the past was glittering and bright. But I can remember His faithfulness. I can remember the miracles and the work of His awesome hands. And I can have faith. I have hope.

Praise Him!
He is doing a new thing!

Flowers and Valentines Day

10, 11, 12, 13...

So what comes after 13? Well any kindergartner would tell you "14, stupid!" And so it is...

February 14th. Monday. First day of the week. First day of my week long break. I woke up, and other than the fact that I slept in a little, it seemed pretty ordinary. Nothing special, right?

Wrong.

I just needed to pick up some protein bars. That was it. But walking into Whole Foods I unknowingly entered an abyss of pink and red. Buckets and buckets of roses surrounded me. Boxes of chocolates, candies, plushy, heart-shaped everything abounded. Fortunately enough my gag-reflex was suppressed by, of all things, laughter. And why you ask? Because alongside this sea of roses was a sea of men. 

I'd recalled what Michael, my favorite Metropolitan Market barista, had said the day before regarding this day of days: 

"It makes women crazy, and the poor guys come in bewildered and just plop down their cash." 

And that's what I saw... men lined up to have their roses arranged, wearing an expression of part daze, part duty, and part delight. 

If you can't tell I'm really not a fan of Valentine's Day. 

I hate pink, I don't like hearts and if I'm going to be brutally honest P.D.A. makes me a little uncomfortable. It's really quite odd though because I'm pretty sure there's a hopeless romantic in there somewhere. If you could only see my DVD collection... But there've been times when I've seriously wondered if my heart were made of warm flesh or icy stone. And yet I know it must be, it is the former.

See my story is much like my little friend Much-Afraid, from Hinds Feet on High Places. Remember her? It's been a while... We're on this journey to the High Places - the Kingdom of Love where the Great Shepherd and his Father reign. However, in order to become a citizen of the Kingdom of Love the flower of Love must have blossomed in our heart. And it has to be the real deal! No carnation, no rose... but true Love. And yet imposter's abound. 

"I think what is growing there is a great longing to experience the joy of natural, human love and to learn to love supremely one person who will love me in return. But perhaps that desire, as natural as it seems, is not the Love of which you are speaking?" She paused and then added honestly and tremblingly, "I see the longing to be loved and admired growing in my heart, Shepherd, but I don't think I see the Love you are talking about, at least, nothing like the love which I see in you."

 True Love is not the kind you see in chick flicks, fairy tales or even (dare I say it) Valentines Day greeting cards. It requires risk - real risk where you're very vulnerable- vulnerable to hurt, heartache and pain. And pain is not so pleasant.

"But it is so happy to love," said the Shepherd quietly. "It is happy to love even if you are not loved in return. There is pain too, certainly, but Love does not think that very significant."

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay his life down for his friends." We have a Good Shepherd, and He has laid His life down for the sheep. His was the ultimate pain.
So did Much-Afraid and I risk the pain and heartache to have the seed of Love planted so the flower might blossom in our hearts? Well I'll share with you a little secret: He's promised to love me in return, with an everlasting love. And you know, "he who promised is faithful..."
So risk it we did! He has planted the seed of Love, true Love for Him, in my heart and it's scary and sometimes it hurts, but really "it is so happy to love."
And like the buckets of flowers that the sea of men were buying at Whole Foods today, the flower of Love is blossoming and blooming in my heart - even on Valentines Day.

But one question (of more importance than all else written above) remains: Is true Love planted in your heart? Are you blooming? Just ask the Good Shepherd. He'll plant it there.

I need new feet...

Raise your hand if after reading the title of this post you're:
a) agreeing with me,
b) laughing, or
c) all of the above.

Ballerinas are known for having beautiful legs, but our feet, well, they generally leave something to be desired...
Unsightly? Deformed? Disfigured? Yes, yes and yes!
Well if you put all your body weight on your toes what do you think's gonna happen?
We shop the aisles of the drugstore that generally are only frequented by the geriatric. I just spent $40.00 at Wallgreens buying corn-pads, bandaids, Vaseline, Second Skin (this gel-like stuff that's used for skin burns) and masking tape - all items necessary to get me through the first weekend of the All Tharp Rep we're finishing up this coming weekend.
I'm a "waterbaby" in Twyla Tharp's Waterbaby Bagatelles, and the combination of boureéing my toes into oblivion during the finale and wearing the flesh-dyed pointe shoes (who's boxes are coincidentally hardened by the dye) created the perfect atmosphere for disaster: the box of my pointe shoe literally sliced the big 'ol callous I'd built up on my pinky toe leaving a thick flap of flesh and an enormous gaping wound.
I didn't just have a blister on my pinky toe... my pinky toe was a giant blister. If only I had a picture... it would be a nice post-halloween scare for you all.
It's therefore not a surprise that I, Jessika Anspach, am notorious at PNB for having the ugliest feet in the company (and for wearing my pointe shoes the longest, but that's for another post). Now that's saying a lot!
So are all my shoes closed-toed? Ha! I'm sure there are people who wish they were... Nope. I unabashedly wear my flip-flops or gladiator sandals in summer. I mean hopefully people are looking at my face and not my feet. And for the most I try not to care what other people think. For the most part...

But there are some days when I wish I had some new feet. And there are some days when I know I need new feet... but not in the way you're thinking. You see there's someone else who's a lot like me:

"In the first place she was a cripple with feet so crooked that they often caused her to limp and stumble as she went about her work.  She had also the very unsightly blemish of a crooked mouth which greatly disfigured both expression and speech and was sadly conscious that these ugly blemishes must be a cause of astonishment and offense to many who knew she was in the service of the great Shepherd." 

Her name is Much-Afraid. She is me. I am her. Her story is told in Hinds Feet on High Places, a story that I'll be working my way through this year as we both (Much-Afraid and I) make our journey toward the High Places, having our crooked mouths corrected and our crippled unsightly feet transformed to hinds feet.
You'll be hearing much more about Much-Afraid and me. And you'll be reading many more snippets of this book. Why? Because, well, it pierces my heart... it cuts right through the thick of it. It says what I cannot. And hopefully it speaks to you too.
And so the journey begins...

"The Lord God is my strength and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me walk upon mine high places." Habakkuk 3:19

"Beauty," Confidence and Wit

I am sitting here in the therapy room at McCaw Hall.
Boyd, our physical therapist has his latest victim on the table. We call him "Bender the Mender," and he has on more than one occasion been responsible for keeping a show going - in particular the marathon ballets such as The Nutcracker, Swan Lake and of course The Sleeping Beauty or "Beauty" - it's abbreviated name.
Thankfully I'm not in here because I'm need of therapy - well physical at least, the mental and emotional I can't vouch for. My reason has more to do with human and internet connection than anything else. It's always a hoppin' place here in the therapy room.

This is our last weekend of shows, and I honestly can't tell you how I feel about that. A little sad? Yeah. A little happy? Sure. But truthfully the feeling that's recently overwhelmed me is... anxiety. And I am ashamed - of feeling anxious that is...

You see this Saturday I will be the Wit Fairy. It will be my premiere and my finale of this part all wrapped up into one show. As my co-worker Abby would say, "Git 'er done!" And I shall. But I find that in all this endless practicing and rehearsing I've developed a slight complex regarding this variation.


When I first saw that I was cast to learn this part my initial reaction was at first slight disbelief and then slight, well, for lack of a better word, horror. With speedy tempos, gallops on pointe and lots of chaînés (very fast small turns), it's a pretty challenging variation. And since I'm going for brutal honesty here, I really felt like it was over my head, not to mention my ability. But determined to see this as an opportunity for growth, I attacked this variation with tenacity and determination.
And much to my surprise I absolutely love dancing it! Oddly enough it really suits my dancing personality and I feel I've certainly risen to the challenge. This is me patting myself on the back...
The end of the variation is pretty tricky: you have essentially six counts of chaîné turns and finish in a double step-up turn done without coming off pointe. You feel like an Olympic gymnast trying to stick a dismount - the goal of course being a solid, sans fumble landing. I have practiced this part of the variation over and over again, and I wish I could say I nailed it every time. Everyone's been so helpful in offering up their suggestions, tips and corrections, but sometimes I felt like there were "too many cooks in the kitchen" if you know what I mean.
Taking everyone's suggestions and every opportunity to practice I know I've improved. But as my Facebook status said today, I've come to realize that at this point practice doesn't = perfect but only perpetuates my insecurity, anxiety and complex over this variation. Practice has become a barrier if you will to the one ingredient that I cannot be without: confidence in myself. By practicing over and over again, I am refusing to trust myself and my ability that I can and will do this variation excellently. Seems like a very simple lesson to learn, one I should have had under my belt a long time ago... But I find there's always lessons to be learned and re-learned. That's just life, right?

So all this work and for what? One show? That's a lot of pressure. Well it is if I choose to look at it that way. There are quite a few of us dancers who have put in countless hours for just one show - one opportunity. With only nine shows and quite a few casts, sometimes that's just how the cookie crumbles. But you know what? Even if it's just one, it's one! It's a gift! And what else are gifts for but to be enjoyed. So this Saturday matinee, while I'm not the Fairy of Joy, I will be full of joy as I take hold of the gift and blessing it is to dance victoriously the Fairy of Wit. And I will stick that last turn. I can do it and I will do it!
To come and see many premieres this final weekend, you can buy your tickets here. But you better hurry before they all sell out!

Photo of PNB principal dancer Mara Vinson as the Fairy of Wit in The Sleeping Beauty. Photo © Angela Sterling.