text: It had been almost four minutes. It was not agony or ecstasy. It was one song, and dance can play funny tricks on the mind while an artist performs. Time speeds up when the music is slow and conversely takes forever even when the beat seems impossibly fast. Faith had only one week to pick the music, prepare the dance, and find something to wear. She had not felt this sort of excitement and anxiety in decades, especially not for herself. Faith had never been much for risk-taking and now was certainly not the time to change her mind. Her dreams of professionally performing never materialized, but she never regretted her path. She often taught others about dance, how to view dance, and even how to dance. For years, she stood in front of mirrors, in converted rooms meant for anything but artistic movement, or in any space large enough to move to share her passion for dance. Sometimes that space was no larger than a closet, but it did not matter. Now, all she had to do was take this leap. It was not a matter of courage per se; it was truly a matter of about five feet and might result in deep admiration or devastating embarrassment. Faith finished her turn, took a deep breath, waltzed back a few more steps, and then started her pas de bourrée. She then added her glissade. She was nearing the end of the piece. The auditorium was perfectly quiet save for the harmonica and its player’s gravelly voice taking turns. She was hoping for a perfect split leap in the air. It would look impressive, sail through the air, and land gracefully. Theoretically, it was that simple. The execution was the true leap itself. She launched off her left foot and felt her right leg glide up into the air. Her thoughts seemed to slow as her body rose into the lighted darkness. Why did I agree to this benefit concert? No one wants to see a forty-four-year-old dancer. There are reasons why dancers retire. Gracefulness and style are no match for inhuman flexibility and waif-like stature. This is a nightmare. I should have stayed in my classroom. Books and papers are much safer than audiences who audibly display their opinions. I agreed too quickly. A high school teacher has never performed for this cause before, and it has been years since anyone has asked me to perform. Choreograph...yes. Teach...yes. Direct even...yes. Just dance...no. Her arms bowed through first and extended up toward the canned lights above her. The music behind her swept through the air like a warm breeze. She could feel the extension of her whole body as her feet ascended to their limits above the stage. It was then that Faith looked out among the seats. What must my daughter think? She’s an athlete and dance has never excited her. She attends concerts, participates in workshops, and even lets me talk about dance during musicals when we watch them. I’m embarrassing her. She must be sitting out there cringing over her mother in a leotard performing with artists more than half her age. Maybe I should have paid more attention to that face she made when I explained this performance. Faith’s exhale indicated her descent, and she could feel gravity pulling her muscles back through the empty space below. It was all coming to an end. Her limbs felt weightless as she continued back down to reality. One last moment, a bow, and then a quick retreat off stage left. The promise of an ending made her heart beat faster as she looked to see that she was still a fair distance above the black matte beneath her. Why don’t companies commission dancers whose passion lies in simple movements? Why must dance impress solely on how hard the body exceeds expectations? I’ve seen senior citizens and children entertain while professionals induce napping. It doesn’t have to be all or none. Dance tells people’s stories, shares their emotions, and helps them find meaning. Every age and ability can do that. Any body can move so people empathize. I have missed this... Her right foot touched down with barely a whisper as her left foot slid perfectly through first to stop in front of her. The dance was concluding. She felt her lungs swell and her arms pulled in. In that moment, she had to choose to open herself again to the world or remain closed. Without a moment’s hesitation, Faith brought her arms up and stretched them wide to embrace whatever response the people in the audience shared. Blues Traveler faded into silence and she took another deep breath. Her eyes scanned the dark room where she knew so many of her colleagues, students, and even family were sitting. She allowed the tiniest smirk to creep up the right side of her downstage face as she watched the dust particles become suspended in the path of the lilac spotlight. There are so many artists in this world who just need to be asked to shine. We need their lights as much as they need to be seen. People don’t lose their dreams when they get older. They lose the belief that anyone wants them to be seen. It was not over. Before a cavalcade of applause, a few random claps, or even utter silence could ensue, Faith leapt once more. It was not as grand as the leap seconds ago, but it changed her position so she could look in a new direction. The spotlight shifted and she gracefully allowed her arms to fall just above her sides. Looking over her right shoulder she let the light illuminate her shadowed glance onto the wall. We all need to ignite our fires and be warmed by the glow of others. The smirk released into a knowing smile on Faith’s face. They may not have been the perfect split leaps, but it was a perfect moment. She found her light and a dance that started forty years ago was only paused again as Faith breathed into her lasting pose.