Why is it that it’s always something? There is always something standing in the way of you and your objective. Sometimes that something is you; Sometimes, it is not. This morning, my something, as it often is, is technology. Often, I feel like I am from a time period where technology didn’t exist, trying to operate in the 21st century. As I work in the HOUR I have while E is at school, I am faced with technological difficulties outside of my control. It is easy to want to give up; And for now, I honestly might. In fact, I probably will give up that task, knowing that I can come back to it when the technology wants to cooperate. For now, I will shift my attention to…something else. Because although there may always be something, there is also always something else.

Let me tell you a story…Last week, I watched a beautiful documentary about professional ballet dancers who had children while in the midst of their performance careers (link at the end of this post). It was heart wrenching and inspiring. I sobbed as I mourned the loss of what could have been and dreamed of the ways I hope to forge ahead in both the worlds of mothering and moving. I also remembered what it was like when I danced on stage while my baby danced inside my body connected by the need to move. Anyhow, after watching the short film, I ordered two books: Balancing Acts by Lucy Gray and A Ballerina’s Mindset by Megan Fairchild. It is not entirely relevant, but I also ordered a new kitchen aid whisk attachment. Someday when there are a ton of you reading, I will update these to be affiliate links but not today..Anyway, on Tuesday, my husband found an empty package on our porch, assuming the contents to have been stolen. Very angry, I looked at my order history and saw that in fact, all three objects were supposedly delivered two days prior, on Sunday. I was fuming (I know, a very privileged thing to be upset about). Fast forward to Wednesday afternoon as the studio gremlin and I are walking down the street to one of our babysitting gigs and I spot a book on the ground-Sure enough, there lies “A Ballerina’s Mindset”, obviously my copy so I picked it up, grateful. Fast forward again, today, Friday, I decide I am going to walk down around the area where I found the first book and as I go, sure enough, I spot an amazon box next to a local building that doesn’t quite look like its where it belongs. Inside it? “Balancing Acts”. As I walked home, I paged through the images of the three mother ballerinas featured in Gray’s book and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. This book had no value to the person who took it off my porch almost a week ago but the contents of this book mean so much to me. More than that person will ever know. Now, I didn’t write this post to point fingers or complain or even to mention my good fortune in finding these lost items (still on the lookout for the whisk attachment). But, I wrote it because of what this experience made me consider. It helped me to yet again remember what matters the most to me. This book (Balancing Acts) as an object is not a prized possession of mine but sitting here, writing this post and looking at the cover, I am overwhelmingly reminded how much moving and mothering are my prizes and my joy. My hope is that today, you might be able to recognize what those things are for you.


​Watch the documentary here: https://youtu.be/10hzVMbRYVc?si=Egym7UYs_l4Bcjan

Today marks a new event in our parenting lives-Eloise’s first day of school. Not full time big kid school, of course, she is only two…But one day a week school where she gets to play with her peers and explore social situations while I write these blog posts and attempt to polish my newsletter (which you should subscribe to if you don’t already). Anyhow, it has been 30 minutes of her gone and the house already feels different, quiet. We can’t believe we are here already and yet we are so excited for what this newness will bring for her and for our family. Still, change can be hard for everyone. Tears came as we left her in that room and we have to trust that they have been gently wiped from her face. Our baby in another space is a release of control, a surrender.

Recently, I started movement therapy. As you may know from following along on this moving, making, mothering journey of mine, my hope is to create space for new moms (dancers and non-dancers) to reconnect to their bodies postpartum through guided meditation and dance improv exercises. First, I felt like I needed to reconnect to my own body again. My body has gone through so much in the past three years: Professional ballet work, an unexpected pregnancy, an unexpected c-section, 2+ years of breastfeeding, and carrying the grief of losing my Dad… If you feel like your body has been through a lot, too, please know that you are not alone. Please trust that you are still safe. That you are still you. That there is hope and healing for how you feel and where you feel at home. Together, we can learn what it is like to feel at home with ourselves. Remember, change can be hard for everyone. Letting go of the beliefs, fears, “failures”, etc. of our bodies is complicated, a release of control, a surrender. But you, too, are home. You, too, are healing. We can do this, together.

Months have gone by and I finally have a full title for my performance piece. My performance piece that I am having a lot of trouble getting off the ground….coaxing out of its shell. But here we are, persevering. Progress is still progress even when it feels slow and painful. My hands are numb and that is making it hard to type. Someday these posts might feel cohesive. And then again, maybe they won’t. These posts are for me and for any other parent artists out there struggling to strike just the right balance between caretaking and creating. This is hard work, my friend, and you are not alone. A reminder I regularly need. As I press on into these practices, of moving, making, and mothering, I find myself wondering when it will come together and I do know that someday it might just make sense. For now,  I look for the parts that do make sense, the pieces that work out and fit together. For now I continue to carve time to create, building the consistency into my routines every week. Speaking of, you can look for a new blog post ever Friday this year AND I am going to finally get my newsletter going on a semi consistent basis also so if you want to follow along, find that under the more section of my website. That’s all for now… after all, there is a lot of work to be done and nap time is almost over. 

Another opportunity has come and gone and I find myself wondering, wandering. With all the distractions fading away, I am still afraid to start. What is it that I fear exactly? Why is it that I find myself so anxious, so tightly wound, around and around, I am running in circles. Actually, I am slowly moving in circles, crawling if you will. Today I found myself curling into my shell, and expanding. I danced for the sake of dancing and I painted with my two year old. I interpreted her ramblings to the best of my abilities, I made space for her in my life. I made space for me in my life. Today, I remembered why I love to dance, why movement feels so magical to me. If I can find more of that every day, I will know that I am, again, moving forward and not just moving around and around and around. The work still is not coming, the opportunities, too, are diminishing. I am losing momentum, and yet, I am still existing. Sometimes taking up space is all you can manage. Sometimes, being is enough. I am still scared to move forward, something that I am scared to admit; this is my life's work, after all. 

It feels foreign...to return to this space...to seek solace in writing words on this page but here I am. Wondering if this work will ever be seen, will ever be completed. Making in the season of mothering has proven hard. And yet, people do it every day. I find myself making excuses for the work not getting done. First it was the other jobs, then it was the developmental stage, sometimes depression, sometimes anxiety, sometimes illness, sometimes fear...Always fear. It is always fear holding us back from creating what we were made to create. The world I started is not forgotten. But it does seem to be buried. Somewhere deep deep down. I lost the confidence, the passion I once had towards this project, towards the work. In each transition, I am further from where I began. It has been two years since this baby was born, and this idea along with her. She is no longer an infant but a toddler, running wild and free, with the funniest laugh, and the cutest smile, and the craziest bright blond hair. I am proud to be her mother every day of my life. And yet, a part of me is still asleep under the pressure of this new name, mama. My life is entangled with hers as we play, and laugh, and read, and try to use the potty every thirty minutes. My hands weave together pieces of clothing as we watch toddler tv and I fight the migraine that invades my thoughts. Slowly, I have reshaped my work so that it surrounds her. I have whittled my responsibilities down with the hopes of creating space to create again, and even still, I find myself without clarity, without compassion, and no where closer to the completion of this dream. A world not forgotten, after all. 

Of course we have heard the phrase "Consistency is Key" but there have been podcasts I listen to that argue that persistence is actually better than consistence and I am inclined to agree. Granted, both are necessary. With Gastropod, consistent work has led to development but also the ability to show up again even in the absence of growth has been so important. So here I am, over a year after starting this project, continuing to show up. Today, I emailed three composers to music pieces I am hoping to use in this performance, I continued to do research on funding (not a lot and hard to get for this kind of work) and thought about my options in regards to that, and I even drafted a sponsorship email. If you or someone you know would like to financially back this work, please let me know. But seriously, I am continuing to be persistent in creating this work, even though it has been difficult and lonely because I truly feel like this work is fighting to be made. Despite the difficulties, the message and meaning behind the work is so much greater. Can I find the community I am trying to create with this performance and workshop series in the making of? That's what we are now aiming to find out. Slowly and steadily, we will get there. 

As moms, we have moments, fleeting moments to ourselves. Fifteen minutes of precious time this evening while my husband bathed the baby. Fifteen minutes I decide to write a blog post instead of reading and in that fifteen minutes I couldn't remember my login, my laptop died, and I accidentally deleted the last three blog posts...forever...Well, I didn't mean to do that. And just like that bath time is over and I am due upstairs. How, how, how are we supposed to create under these conditions? Some nights all we can do is take a deep breath, refocus, and be still in the moment we are in. 

Wandering. We need to allow time for wandering...Wandering thoughts, wandering feet. I am so grateful for the opportunity to slow down.  Wandering can often lead to wondering...Wondering what we are doing, what we are thinking,  what is the purpose, what is the meaning? Always looking for connections and correlations. I am excited to share that I am dreaming up new works. That is all for now. Ta-Ta.



This blog post written in collaboration with Nick at bedtime. 

As the GWYN Residency comes to a close, it feels more like a beginning than an ending and that is when I realized it is the end of the beginning. A few months ago I read a children's book with that title that followed an ant and a snail and their adventures together. The unlikely friends moved at differing paces and still got to the same places. Isn't that true of us all? Today, I took Eloise to a walk at the park and we found a snail in the dirt. As we walked home, I listened to an audio book, Gathering Moss by Robin Wall Kimmerer;  I am grateful for the tiny worlds beneath our feet. The pace at which I move and work is greatly affected by the presence of our child and yet I wouldn't trade it for anything. The laugh as she swung for the first time at the park today is a sound I hope to never forget. As I move forward in creating Gastropod, Eloise will continue to grow and change and the relationship I have with her and our daily routines will change too. That is part of the great tension of this life, the desire to do what we wish and the need to take care of other things. A friend quoted to me yesterday, "we can have all of the things but we cannot have them all at the same time". It is part of the creative process to trust the timing that is beyond our control.