Dances are planned from beginning to end but they often end up somewhere unexpected. One can’t predict all the stumbling blocks, such as a misplaced stage light or a broken shoe strap, that lead to necessary workarounds. There are also unanticipated moments of surprise and joy, such as being able to hold a balance pose for a fraction of a second longer than you thought you could, or realizing that there is musical time for an additional turn rotation that wants to happen. And there are moments when the best you can do is hope that nobody saw what you just did (muttered “shit!” when your partner kicked you by accident, for example) or that they will see and forgive.
The not knowing creates both pre-performance stomach queasiness and the elevated pulse of new adventure. Each performance, each stepping outside into the light of day after one’s strong cup of coffee, holds the promise of something new and beautiful or newly beautiful. Sometimes there are also moments of unexpected absurdity or humor, made better when they are shared by others.
Today, for example, I was in the most mundane of all work meetings when our boss left early to attend another meeting, still holding his cell phone on which he had been videoconferencing with us, and walked into the Men’s Room. “NOOOOO!” we cried in unison as we noticed the urinals in the background. “Oh, haha, no worries,” he said clicking us off.
The remaining virtual meeting participants dissolved into laughter. The collective fear and quick resolution became a moment of shared hilarity.
What in dance could possibly be like that? Plenty. The spin into the orchestra pit that ends with a leap and flourish out of it, delighting the audience with a quick recovery.
Someone, somewhere, wins millions of dollars in the lottery. Someone, somewhere, dances so well in a dance role that they become an overnight star.
Anything could happen. Anything at all.