There’s a strangely unsettling sense of inner harmony that buds when your personal life and work life align.

Right now, every piece I’m rehearsing for Up Close is moody.  I am doing a collection of sad, detached, tenderly delusional works, and oddly enough it couldn’t be a more complete reflection of my emotions these days.  The exact subject matter is too personal to discuss here, but I thought my experience with this overlapping in emotion from home to studio may be relatable for some of you?

Last year, when we did Peter Pan, I didn’t realize it yet, but the story I spent my days evoking and my nights studying would soon begin to portray me right back.  That show was my first leading role, a right of passage that ended up changing me from girl to woman: an eerie echo of J.M. Barrie’s coming-of-age story.  After closing the final show, I headed into a  summer of extreme personal growth- unexpected, I admit, but a huge metamorphosis nonetheless.  For the first time, I began to really need, not just want, to be the best version of myself.  And just as Wendy Darling realizes, standing between her bed and the open window to Neverland, I learned that choosing to grow up is not easy.  It takes courage and strength to follow the unknown path, and no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to take everyone with you.

No matter how closely my character in Peter Pan predicted my summer, the universe could not have planned 4 more perfectly tragic pieces for me to dance this fall.  Conflicted with feelings of love and anger, I’m deliriously clinging to sentimental moments, torn between opposing requests from my head and my heart.  I’m telling you, a top shelf psychologist could not understand my inner turmoil as well as ballet seems to right now.