Variation from Sleeping Beauty

photo by arantxa villa

Variation from Sleeping Beauty  

second year erin o’keefe 

I LOOK DOWN AT MY SHOES. They are secure, but I am not. I feel it only for this moment, that strange sense of hesitation in which I, only briefly, question whether I can overcome the fear and nerves in an attempt to convert them into excitement. I carefully ready myself to embrace the numbing sensation and the feeling of the light consuming me so fully and completely that my only option is to fall into the black abyss of the stage, once again unable to escape its pull. I move my hands in a silent prayer that I can deliver the truth to the audience awaiting me and touch their hearts while allowing them to touch mine. I take a deep breath before

I STEP OUT. My shoes, that look soft and silken, are hard and supportive as they act as the only barrier between my corseted body and the marley floor. One shoe lands in front of the other as I roll through the highest possible bend of my arch in order to dull the noise. The black abyss must stay silent. Only music is permitted to speak here and it speaks so I don’t have to and I think in my head thank you when it starts. I step en pointe, my arabesque striking true and I stay a moment breathing reaching and allowing my limbs to pull my center in opposite directions. Letting my back leg lower to faille through I smile, step, step, pique and land again in fourth. I shake and still with breath I consume, thankful yet again. I give more of my soul to the abyss to show my gratitude and continue on. My feet move fast as I run to the corner, my back to the abyss, and my face drops only to return once more as I turn around and pose, hold 7 and 8. I feel the light hit my teeth in a flash and I let it electrify me and bring me the energy needed to continue. I hop en pointe and pique a number of times, getting more and more light as I feel the floaty feeling creep into my body. It knows what to do and where to go. Muscle memory becomes my only memory, the only thing I can recall. My body thinks so my mind does not have to and I move as if the steps of this dance are as natural as walking. Soon I am turning. I finish the first pirouette and successfully land. I feel my smile grow larger as I gaze into the darkness seeing, for the first time, a person: one of the people I share my experience with. The person who lives on the other side of the abyss. I move again and position my body in preparation for my next turn, rising spinning and falling again. I hear the melody of the music suddenly signaling me to trace the stage in my final sequence of perpetual motion and I am once again seeing my entire world in a blur of light and dark. It is suddenly so light I cannot see the dark and I fear I may never stop until

I DO. I finish. And the music stops only for new music to take its place, music from the silent participant of this experience. Their hands are so loud that they drown out all thoughts including my own. All I can do is feel pure joy and fulfillment and I bow, thanking them for thanking me. The abyss is no longer dark. Instead, it is warm and as bright as the lights I see as I exit the stage.