Knock On Wood

Yesterday was the annual student showcase of the dance studio where I learn to tap.  It has been three years since the last time did this in person.  Everybody was so excited.  It was like a big family gathering.

I had skipped many classes this semester when we were supposed to be working on the number for this community show.  I was super rusty.  I did not want to embarrass my classmates or my teacher.  Therefore, I was reluctant to sign up for it.  Yet, my teacher encouraged me to consider.  "I can send you video recordings of the class if you want, but it is up to you."  When the director of the studio personally emailed me to nudge me,  I finally decided to give it a try.

What it meant was a lot of at-home practice, watching a Zoom recording of a class over and over during the week leading up to the actual event.  Honestly, it was rather nerve-wracking.  I woke up in the middle of the night many times, staring at the pitch black bedroom ceiling counting the steps . . .

On Saturday, there was one last class before the show.  I decided to go to the studio in person to seek all the remedial help I could get.  Mr Baakari Wilder, my beloved teacher, already knew there was going to be a bit of clean up work to do.  I was grateful for him.

"You seem hesitant with you moves," he noted after a trial run.  "To be able to do the next move, you need to shift your weight completely onto the one foot so as to free the other foot.  It is as if you intentionally limit your options so that what you need to do becomes so obvious."

"Yes, indeed, my teacher.  I am hesitant because I am not certain about my next move.  Therefore, emotionally, I was reluctant to put all my weight on one side -- even though, in my head, I should know better.  And by doing so, it creates ambiguity on which foot I am going to use for the next move.  And my body notes that.  As a result, my anxiety escalates.  The heightened anxiety messes with my brain, so that I become even more confused about what I am going to do next . . .  It is like an avalanche.  I am in a loop!"  I confessed apologetically.  

Mr B laughed.  "So you are aware of what is going on!  You don't want to be in a loop and you don't need to be in that loop, you know."  He looked at me intently in the eyes.  "Tell me: How do you teach your students?  If you make a mistake while doing a kata, what do you do?  You go on.  You let go and move on, don't you?  How is that different?"

"To begin with, we do not have a lot of katas in Aikido.  And, Mr B, when we do Aikido, we do not do it with music.  There is a rhythm, but there is no song I have to stick to.  I am the music.  I can stretch it if I want to and rewrite the song whichever way I like.  It is a very different story.  With tap, I have to stick to a song.  I can't miss a beat . . ."  

"Ah, I see, I see.  So, this is a different level." he nodded.  "Anyways, don't get hung up on the mistakes.  Stay calm.  Just hop back on and keep going.  Can you do that?"  My kind teacher gave me a sympathetic smile.  

"I guess I can.  Aikido is about letting go.  I think I can use my Aikido on a two-minute tap routine." I said to myself.

Truth be told, during this process of preparing for the recital, many a time, I heard in my head many of the advice I gave to students in the past.  Things seem so logical and straightforward on the Aikido mat.  How come they are so much more difficult on a dance floor?!

In a different setting, I get to revisit the many principles I thought I learnt in Aikido.  It really is not about whether you understand something, but more about whether you can apply it.  It is definitely easier said than done.  I couldn't help wondering:  What would it be like if I were my own student???

"It is only a showcase.  You are not going to get or lose a Broadway gig because of it.  Our goal is not looking for perfection.  Just go out there to dance and have fun!"  Mr B reminded us.  

Mr B's kid was our special guest audience.  I looked at her and quoted her father, "See?  Our goal is: not looking for perfection.  I already nailed it before coming to class!"  She chuckled and took a glance at her dad.  Unlike her, I did not have the courage to turn to look at Mr B, the Tap Yoda, just in case he heard me . . .

Remember my teacher said: "Stay calm, hop back on and keep moving"?  I returned to dancing as if nothing happened.

Hmm.  I can be such a bad influence for a 12-year-old.  Shame on me.