Christal Wagner Photography
THE GRIND
In my twenties, I was all over the place. I ran a dance studio, went back to school, and continued to perform whenever possible. When the walls needed a fresh coat of paint, I grabbed a coffee and repainted my studio late into evening after teaching a full evening of classes and attending university that morning. Between being a student myself, teaching, choreographing and producing performances, I was spread thin. Often mentally and physically exhausted, I left only space for dance and an insignificant amount of time for anything else.
While I loved my students, I dealt with some difficult business situations and customers who tried to take advantage of a small business. People didn’t seem to realize that taking advantage of this small business actually meant taking advantage of a person, a human being. I am not sure how I made it through those times without becoming totally bitter. Although I eventually closed the business, many of my work habits remained the same. I soon took on too many gigs, became overly committed and was once again my schedule was booked sunrise to sunset, seven days a week. In my thirties, it was difficult to maintain the kind of energy I once had.
After several taps to the snooze button, I would roll out of bed and begin to progress through the day. I’d feed the cats, hop into the car, and head to the first cafe of the day. Bouncing from job to job, teaching one group of students and then another, caffeine as my copilot. I’d fall swiftly into the cycle that was the daily grind and eventually return home feeling exhausted and looking disheveled. After a 12 hour day of teaching dance on and off, planning, and emails, I was mentally and physically done. I was tense. I couldn’t relax.
Working a few different teaching jobs, trying to give attention to both my partner and pets, and waiting for the stars to align so that I might also have time for myself. At home there would be chores waiting for me and I would often feel guilty if I did not complete before enjoying any downtime. With those damn dirty dishes piling up after every meal, cat hairballs tumbling around every corner, how could I just kick back or do anything else without guilt? After a day of teaching, all I could seem to do was whip together a quick dinner and sink deep into my couch. My creative juices were desperately low and my patience wearing thin. I began to notice signs of burnout and I found myself taking a compulsory departure from the world of dance. Soon, I found myself asking, “but who am I without it?”.
In early 2020, I was enjoying a few days in Miami. I find that travel often refreshes the spirit as much as it reveals hidden truths that may have been buried deep in the subconscious. During the trip I managed to do some of my most favorite things. Running on the beach, snorkeling a reef and wandering the unique streets. I was deeply reassessing my priorities. I thought about changing careers, quitting my jobs and eventually started to weigh the pros and cons of various responsibilities as I experienced some sort of mid-thirties life crisis. I soon started sifting through which commitments were to stay, and which needed to go, uncertain of the right answer but knowing that assessing the situation was crucial to my happiness.
During our trip, the news took a severe turn. The media became flooded with fear and overwhelming amounts of information on the coronavirus. I began to obsess over the bizarre daily briefings from the White House as they slipped into my nightmares. As questions and concerns over COVID grew so did our anxiety, staining the remaining days of our short adventure. What was meant to be a refreshing recharge of a getaway had certainly backfired. We returned from our trip to a changed city. Like the rest of the world, I began to adapt to the new way of life. Safer-at-home mandates in place and a calendar of events erased and performances cancelled. Teaching through Zoom became common business practice. Our lively city of Milwaukee was a ghost town in an instant.
The early time spent at home were a few sad few months. I had been craving change but with the pandemic in full force, new stressors had arrived and taken the place of others. Desperate to make changes to my life but feeling stuck in the vacuum of our apartment, still spinning on the wheel, I tried to remain positive but, I struggled. I avoided many of my personal goals and those months feel like a black hole of which I recall few significant moments. I do recall taking over a month to finish a puzzle and sanitizing groceries but the rest of that time is pretty much a mirage of Trump briefings and social media madness. The virus itself was scary but consistently troubling, the lack of leadership and direction from our government.
As the weather brightened in WI, I was revitalized. I was able to have socially distant gatherings with my family and a few close friends. A glimmer of hope in the heavy times, I remembered the desire I had to make changes to my life. How did I let the past few months become not much more than time in front of the screen? I realized that I needed to act now. To do more of what fuels me and truly makes me happy must start by, well, putting down the phone. I decreased my time on social media, muted Trump, got more fresh air and began to focus on my other interests. Suddenly, I could see more clearly and slowly but surely the fog I was lost in was lifting. I could recall my goals and was able to visualize a path out of this dark period.
Life is short and I realized that I need to put my wants and needs first. It’s now or never. I want to live a life where I have time to travel, create and simply enjoy the world. This life doesn’t require the most expensive of vacations but taking time for myself and leaving time to fill the day with meaningful practices. Not only working or constantly producing for the benefit of others. I must find balance and work to maintain it and I know that I am not alone. I have so many personal goals that I wish to accomplish and while they might seem like side interests or hobbies to the outside eye, they are everything to me. I feel I am incomplete when there isn’t time or energy in a day to devote myself to my other interests and goals as it is easy to lose oneself in the demands of the day. I often have to stop and remind myself what is truly important to me.
Eventually I narrowed down jobs and limited additional responsibilities. I made time for my partner, friends with similar interests and hobbies that give me a joyfully challenge. I used to be such a “yes” person and before I would know it, I’d have a complete week booked with favors and projects for others. I’d feel taken advantage of and I’d only have myself to blame. I now believe firmly that time and space must be saved each day for other interests and desires. Whether it be setting aside time to draw, paint, read, write, dive or hike I found that, for me, planning the day appropriately to include one or more of the above was non-negotiable. As an artist, a creative and a dancer if I do not continue to find inspiration through these other avenues, not only is my spirit dampened, but I lose the very texture that makes me unique. If I lose myself, ultimately the work I produce suffers as well.
While it is certainly a process and a daily practice, I have begun to carve out time each day for me. Each week I plan a series of personal goals to complete and daily movement that is not related to my teaching plans often turning to yoga and improvisation to start the day. I enjoy a coffee and a wild brainstorm. I begin new art projects, dig into a writing prompt, and other days I just put down the phone and read for a couple hours. It is not always easy, and I don’t always complete the goals, but I do move in a direction and that progress feels good. I revisit, refine, and resume long term goals in the following weeks.
At some point I decided to refuse to just work my life away giving all my time and energy for profit and the interests of others. It is so easy to lose yourself that way. As a dance instructor, it is of course rewarding to witness the growth of students. It is always exciting to see them grasp something that they didn’t yesterday, and thrilling to watch them develop their own voices as artists. It is also an extremely tiring profession as you often find yourself wearing multiple hats in organizations beyond instructing students and mentoring growing humans. It is important that as teachers, we give students tools so that they continue to grow beyond us. While I do love my students, students come and go, and graduate. That being said, we must continue to grow ourselves otherwise, what have we left to share with the next generation?
While I teach dance, I believe this is a lesson for or all who teach and therefore all who live. We must take the time to grow ourselves. We must be curious, inquisitive and passionate about going after what moves and grooves us. To take in life beyond our bubble, employment and avoid losing our souls to the screen. How are we to inspire others, if we ourselves are not inspired? Inspiration is everywhere and we need to be willing to take the time to see it. As a dance instructor and choreographer, I am not only moved to create and teach from dance alone but from living life. I love to research, to witness quietly, to explore inquisitively, and then to ruminate on what I’ve seen and experienced before creating or crafting something in response. I will admit, making time is difficult. Each week presses on with all sorts of daily demands but I’ve learned that the pause from the hamster’s wheel is crucial and full of all sorts of priceless rewards.
In a fast moving world what do you do to refuel?
How do you manage a balanced life?
What inspires you?