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in the back porch.

m.
May 18, 2015
2 min read

The first house I lived in growing up had a screened in porch. This porch was my creative playground. I spent hours dancing to any music that lit my soul on fire, causing movement to melt and transform throughout my body. I was unstoppable. I was free. I was the most present form of myself.

During the very cold and rainy days, dance parties relocated to our semi finished basement where my parents sectioned off the cement floor for my sisters and I to use as a space to rehearse original choreography. In addition to providing space, our parents supplied stereos, cassette tapes, mirrors, costumes (thanks to mom's closet and old recital costumes) and foam mats (for practicing our tumbling, obviously!). Friends would come over and we would spend hours developing the most outrageous concerts of song, dance, and solo acts. One person collected handmade ticket stubs from our audience members (thanks mom and dad), someone else ran the music, but we all collaborated in performance.

When my parents built their current home, they strategically and generously included plans to build a dance room above the garage/attic space. My sisters and I were thrilled. The home made, young girl decorated dance room was what you would image: purple paint, small section of ballet barres, an entire wall of mirrors, wood floors, ceiling fan, boom box, dance posters, and an old school intercom system for our parents to communicate with us when music was too loud or dinner was ready.

How special. An open space to dream, create, move, and be free. How special. Parents, siblings, and friends who support dreaming, creating, movement and freedom. As an adult, I reminisce and crave those childhood moments. Luckily, my life has shaped itself into something somewhat similar.

I am fortunate and grateful for every opportunity that has come my way. The good...and the bad. I try to recognize that not all performances deserve a standing ovation; not all lessons taught will make an impact on students' lives; not all movement articulations of the body pieced together will create a masterpiece. But I will learn, reflect, and grow; strive for more and better because that little girl dancing furiously to Michael Jackson's "Bad" in the back porch deserves it.

Here is my attempt at a blog. My attempt at making sense of my crafted unassuming life. Cheers to making more moments 'in the back porch'.

5,6,7,8

m.