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Today I went to ballet class.

I have had:

one foot surgery

three knee surgeries

one hip surgery

five pregnancies (three living children)

one sustained nervous breakdown

an enduring adoration for ballet. And ballerinas like Svetlana Zakharova:


I do not have:

a nanny

an ability to attend class daily, as one my age should in order to avoid injury

a lot of money to pay for childcare

youth on my side

I am joyously grateful for:

the days I can go to class

the fact I can go to class at all

the music of Bach, Chopin, Debussy, and Satie that infuse our bodies with divine movement

the fact that although I dance nothing like Svetlana or any woman of her caliber, the simple ritual of class draws me closer to them, casting a closer view on the art of movement, or, really, art in any form.


And when one lives in gratitude of the cultivated arts, it is possible to love more fully the art of the every day. Even when it’s messy:



Or just simple:

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