The Beginning of Beginnings

Hmmmmm, Easter. Now you must forgive me any errors or falsehoods. They are unintentional, and I mean to offend no one. I am not a Christian, and never have been, although did go to a primary school with a very Christian Headmaster, who would ram the dogma down our throats. In assembly every morning, we would say the Lord's prayer, we would sing hymns and be read passages from the Bible. Never one to do as I was told, however, I let pretty much all of this wash over my head.

Today is Easter Sunday, a day which ordinarily means little to me but a day off, and time to eat more chocolate than should be physically possible. On this particular Easter Sunday, however, I have been thinking about the symbolism of Easter, for some reason. Either way you look at it, whether from a religious standpoint or not, the message is clear, beautiful and ever-poignant.

Rebirth.

One such small word, with such huge potential. I'll say it again.

Rebirth.

Take a moment to let the word echo around in your head. Let go of the obvious religious connotations and see how it feels. To me, it seems so very comforting, promising, warming. We are all looking to be reborn in some way or another. I think we all welcome a fresh start, whether it be a new job, new romance, a new home, even a nice new pair of undies can make us feel reborn! The greatest irony of it is that we all want this, as I say, to some extent, but are unprepared to do that which is inevitable if we wish to be reborn, to have a fresh start....

Die.

Death.

Re-Birth.

I don't mean to be morbid, and for those of you that don't believe in reincarnation, am not necessarily talking about that either. What I am talking about is all those small deaths that we are faced with on a day to day basis. In order to move into a bigger, more comfortable house, we must move out of a place where often we have been very happy for a great many years. In training, in order to get fitter and stronger, we must suffer pain, we must damage existing muscle tissue in order to stimulate the growth of new muscle tissue. In order to become wiser and more enlightened, we must often let go of beliefs that we have clung to for a long time, beliefs and ideas that we may have found great solace in, and which we feel have shaped who we are.

I could go on with this list for all eternity. There are millions upon millions of moments like this in every life. They range from the tiny and seemingly insignificant, right through to the great and seemingly most significant. I guess that in all truth, none are more or less significant than others, but what is important is how we deal with any of these 'deaths' and 'rebirths'. The smaller and less significant, something like losing a personal possesion of little actual value, but relatively great sentimental value, are ultimately training for those really big ones. I guess the apex of all is that ultimate act of relinquishing that which we value most highly, the centre of each of our respective universes, our physical body, the "I" that we know and relate to. I am, of course, referring to our actual death.

If we cannot let go of the idea of our favourite jumper, and for years and years cling to that idea, and the memory of that loss, how can we ever hope to fare when it comes to that ultimate act of submission?

Alas, I digress. It was not my intention to delve all too deeply into this subject, and to depress you all, but rather to allude to it briefly before going on to do what I do best.

Talk about myself.

The reason, I suppose, that I have come to think about these things is that my life has undergone some fairly radical changes recently. As some of you will know, some of you not, since I was nine, I wanted to be a professional ballet dancer. I am now going on twenty six and, until December last year, have been single mindedly pursuing that goal, and living that dream. I have been dancing professionally for the last eight years, after completing three years of full time vocational training. I have danced professionally in Europe, Australia, Japan and Cuba.

Not many people realise what it means to be a ballet dancer. A great majority of people seem to think that it is something that people do as a hobby, after work. If I had a pound for every time, upon telling someone that I am a ballet dancer, I have been asked what my day job is.... You know. Not only is it a full time job, a vocation, a passion and a discipline as unforgiving and demanding as any other, it is who you are. You have to start dancing early, and have to be very serious about it from an early age. There are very few exceptions to this this rule, and the exceptions where dancers have started 'late' (a very late start in ballet being sixteen), and succeeded, those dancers have been triply serious about it.

So when, upon my return from a five week convalescence after a fairly big hernia operation last October, I was told that my contract with the Queensland Ballet was not being renewed, it turned my world upside down. My predicament was great. Since moving to Brisbane in 2004, with my girlfriend Lisa, to work with QB, I have never particularly enjoyed the work. The dancers at QB are a great bunch, hard working, talented, fun and friendly, but I never managed to understand the company director, and never truly enjoyed dancing his choreoraphy. Lisa and I did, however find a place in Brisbane where we both loved to live. We found a great life for ourselves here and very quickly settled in and built up a wonderful circle of friends.

Had this not been the case, and had we had more notice, we would probably have left Brissie without a second thought, in order for Lisa and I both to carry on our careers in dance. I had not ever, by any means, considered my career being so short lived. One does not invest that much time and energy, dreams, blood, sweat and tears in something just to do it for a few years and chuck it in. In all our travels though, we have never found anywhere as homely as here. It is also a very long way to move from Australia back to Europe, and something best not done without considerable thought and planning.

I therefore found myself having to make the regrettable choice of quitting dancing. I wouldn't so much call it a choice as inevitable. I felt a frightening amount of anger and bitterness, directed in turns toward the people who had lured me out here to work, only to ignore me, under appreciate me, disrespect me and then ultimately, discard me, then toward myself for letting it happen, for not being stronger, smarter, more focussed, for letting it happen, and also at the world for putting me through this. I knew, of course, that this was all erroneous and irrelevant, that this was the way things must be, that they were like this for a reason, and that all would be revealed in good time. That didn't make things any easier though, nor me any less angry.

I was fortunate enough to be able to go home to London over Christmas, for my Big Brother's wedding. I managed to prolong my stay, eventually returning to Brissie, Lisa and the reality of my situation two months after leaving in a big hurry! In that little oasis of calm, head buried firmly in the sand, soothed by Motherly and Brotherly love, visiting old haunts with old friends, I nursed my bruised ego and looked inside for answers that didn't come. Ultimately, those answers were only to be found in the field of real life (as opposed to the field of dreams ;D) (other tacky baseball movies are available).

And so, I returned to Brisbane, and to my seemingly great fortune, to a fairly well paid job as a salesman in a furniture store, and a very nice furniture store too. I thought earning good money would answer if not all, then a great many of my current issues. About a week into the job, I realised work in retail afforded one way too much time to stand around and think, way too little to occupy one's mind with. I experienced boredom of a level I never thought possible. The next day, I went in to the office and told the lady who had very kindly put her faith in me and given me a job with very little question, that I would be leaving, that I was sorry but furniture, and retail, just weren't for me, and that I would give her two week's notice so she could find someone to replace me.

This was probably the lowest point so far. I saw a life as a salesman, or working in hospitality, or some other such job, stretching out in front of me, for the rest of my life. I don't wish to knock these roles, as they are tough jobs and the people doing them deserve respect. I met some wonderful people at the furniture store and there is nothing wrong with the work they are doing, or the lives they lead. It's just not what you dream about being when you're a child, and certainly not something I dreamed about. I felt lost, devoid of sense of purpose, as well as identity. I realised that my sense of myself was so inextricably tied up with being a dancer that I felt worthless and meaningless, felt like I had lost my place in society and would never find it again.

The question then was what I would do. I am not in a financial position to doss, and do not wish to either. I was also intensely aware of my need to be busy, to be challenged in some way. I have had many jobs in hospitality in the past and have always enjoyed the contact with people as well as the challenge and the rush of a busy shift.

I had a trial for a chef's apprenticeship in the kitchen of one of Brisbane's top restaurants. I have always had a love for food and cooking, second only to my love of dancing, and this seemed like it may be the logical path to take. I would be challenged, would be working in a field that I truly love, and also in a creative environment. I had a great day, and a great experience. I found the kitchen and its staff to be professional, hard working and truly passionate about their work. The food and smells were wonderful and I would be happy to be surrounded by them on a day to day basis. I had to opt out of that though, as the money simply would not have paid the bills, not to mention that working from nine in the morning until midnight, five to six days a week would have effectively ensured that I almost never saw Lisa. I think though, to be perfectly honest, that I'm just not ready to make a commitment like that. I did describe myself to the head chef as being somewhat like someone who has just come out of a long term commited relationship where they have ended up having their heart broken, afraid to commit again in a hurry. I'm also not entirely sure that I'm done with dancing, or that it's done with me.

So to cut a long story short, that gives you a brief idea of what I've been going through, occasionally with good humour, but mostly lost and desparately, horribly self pityingly! I am now working at the Gun Shop Cafe, a great little restaurant down the road where, so far, I have had had more fun working than any other place I can remember. The Guys that run it are just lovely, great fun people to work for, and with. I am also doing a few hours a week working for a promotional company, hosting wine tastings in bottle shops around the city, as well as having just got another job for the couple of days a week that The Gun Shop Cafe is closed. The money is starting to trickle in, albeit slowly, and although I paid my rent late this week, something I haven't done for years, I did pay it.

Sure things aren't great. I'm not following my dream and it looks like I'll be working seven days a week, but it's alright. The jobs that I have, I enjoy. They won't be forever, and I know that today. I am starting to find focus, to feel ready to move forward again, rather than just treading water, trying to keep from going under. Maybe I'll find my way back into dancing, and maybe not, but either way, I have a new perspective, a new sense of myself. I see the potential in my situation.

Now I don't mean to be tacky. I am in no way comparing myself to Christ, nor any other unshaven, besandalled holy men. I don't want to bang on about this whole rebirth thing but, well, I have died many small (and some not so very small) deaths recently. And,

well,

it is Easter Sunday.........