Minor Crisis

Experiencing a lot of anxiety. The place where my group rehearses has suddenly raised its rates. It's more than I can pay. I feel certain that a new space, a new opportunity will develop, but it makes me want to cry in frustration!

Being a choreographer is an outsider's game. We are not part of popular culture, not paid well, and not household names. I question why I do it, but have a strong commitment to it nevertheless. I guess it's like loving a dog who bites: you still love it, even through the pain. I feel abandoned and ashamed. I'm ashamed that I can't afford fancy digs. I'm ashamed that, for all of the work I put into it, the pennies don't add up to much.

Dance is good for my body and soul. It makes me more and more aware of my body, until I feel the bones knitting soft tissue, suffused with fluid. It seems of small use, but it fills me with satisfaction. My body is becoming a document that I can read. Choreographing dances is part of my journey of discovery. Even though it makes me no money, I am determined to fight for my work. I'm just destined to be a hard-luck story, I guess.