I was asked to play Mother Ginger in San Diego Academy of Ballet’s upcoming performance of The Nutcracker. I watched her grit, felt my deep shame, purposed to knock Ashton Goggans out in the greatest trilogy fight of the decade but a funny thing happened on the way to the octagon. Unlike our surfing, there’s no “almost good enough” in ballet.Īin’t horseshoes nor hand grenades in the greatest artform ever gifted us from Italy, France, Russia.Įvery sinew is either properly aligned or else it is properly not and if it is properly not then angry barks rain down from unrelenting masters. Tendu, arabesque, rombe de jambe, pirouette.
The impetus? Watching my young daughter toil under the heavy yoke of classical ballet, the greatest artform ever gifted our undeserving world. It was a mere three weeks ago I made the uncomfortable realization that I had fallen into a morass of mental, physical inertia and purposed to fight toward greatness once again.
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