Defying Gravity, One Step at a Time

Last night, I danced in a recital for the first time in six or seven years. And let me tell you - I was nervous. The kind of nerves that grip your stomach and make you question everything. The last time I remember being this nervous, I was standing at the edge of a plane in Texas, about to go skydiving.

A friend gave me a much-needed dose of perspective:

“Last I checked, you can’t die dancing…so just have fun.”

So, I took that advice with me onto the stage.

Was I perfect? No.

Did the nerves go away? Eventually (after both dances were over.)

But I showed up. I did something that scared me. And there’s power in that.

There are still two more shows to go today, but something has shifted. The fear has transformed into excitement. I’m reminded that the fear often comes from vulnerability. Being on stage means being seen. You’re exposed. All eyes are on you.

But there’s also a kind of magic in that.

For a few moments, you lose yourself in the music. You escape to another world. You get to be someone else; or maybe more of who you truly are. It’s something only dancers really understand. And that feeling? I never want to lose it.

Last night was special for another reason, too. My daughter danced in the recital as well. She’s in 8th grade now: graceful, confident, powerful. She danced in six numbers, each one filled with poise and passion. But as I watched her on stage, I didn’t just see the beautiful performer she is today, I saw the little girl she used to be.

She was two when she started dancing. Three when she took the stage for the first time. I remember her first dress rehearsal like it was yesterday. She refused to go on stage. The night of the show, I sat in my seat, holding my breath, unsure whether she’d appear when the curtain rose.

And then, there she was. In her little party dress and white gloves, smiling from ear to ear. She hasn’t stopped dancing, singing, or performing since.

Tonight, she surprised me with a duet to Defying Gravity. I knew she was doing a duet; I thought her costume was green - and I didn’t know the song. She couldn’t wait to finally unveil the song to me. And let me tell you, she defied gravity for sure. Her smile lit up the stage - wearing a pink costume while Maggie wore green.

After the recital ended, I was invited to take a photo with a group of dancers I once taught when they were just three and four years old. I can still picture their tiny buns and baby ballet shoes. Now, they’re all graduating 8th grade with my daughter tomorrow. What once felt like yesterday has quietly become a lifetime ago.

So yes, there are many emotions swirling through my head, heart, and soul right now. But for today, I’m holding on to this:

I got up on that stage.

I danced.

I felt it all.

I’m remembering what it means to live so fully in an experience that it changes you. That it stays with you. That it marks you forever.

My hope is that everyone gets to feel that at least once in their life. That they find something: whether it’s dance, art, music, adventure, or something else entirely that makes them feel completely alive.

Because when you do, you don’t just defy gravity.

You become it.