Sunday 1 April 2018

The Right Question

I thought I had to choose one over the other. Dancing or writing. I can't possibly focus on both, I would tell myself. There's only so much creative energy I can muster, and I must allocate it accordingly depending on mood and opportunity. I thought dancing and writing were separate from each other. I thought I had to choose. Indulge in one, and starve myself of the other. 

Wrong.

Zadie Smith's soul-quenching words (found in Maria Popova's Brain Pickings) opened my eyes to a truth that has been lingering under the surface, just out of reach: I cannot have one without the other. Writing and dancing don't just coexist, they inform one another. They are stronger together, like an embrace from both parents at once. They are the same message told in two languages. 

Writing and dancing - they are both platforms for telling stories.

I've been waiting for the best, most opportune, most inspired moment to write. I wait, and I wait, and I wait some more. Likewise, I wait for energy imbued with confidence and sex appeal to dance. I wait for the belief that I am able to dance well. I am still waiting.
When will the perfect moment of inspiration arrive? I ask myself. When will I be perfectly confident in my own skin?

No, these are not the right questions. I am waiting as if writing and dancing have anything to do with me. As if without me they won't exist. I am not a conjurer of words and movement who's art can only be preceded by the most ideal creative circumstances possible. I am not a super hero with super powers. I am a curator of stories. A curator who will be waiting forever if she doesn't ask the right question. 

There is, after all, only one: What story wants to be told today?

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