dark to light

from day to night

black to white

sixteen swans in flight

a deceitful blight

a vision at height

a desperate love’s plight

triumphant truth’s fight

won with great might

now cracking dawn’s light

her transformation in sight

still daybreak burns bright

sparks of trust reignite

arms open and invite

twisting lovers holding tight

at long last all wrong is right.

-reflections on the Lake

What was strange about playing two very different characters in one ballet? I suppose the weird part was how very not weird it felt at all. Countless hours of rehearsal, nights laying awake reconsidering a sly wink here or a sharp gesture there, none of that seemed to matter when the lights hit. Odette’s trapped sadness felt real. The anguishing betrayal was not just a dormant memory in my own life’s experience. It seems a reoccurring theme. Odile’s slippery charm- while not exactly inherent- never felt altogether foreign, as if this persona was one I’ve tried on before.

I have waxed on about ballet life matching up with real life time and time again. I shouldn’t be surprised when this happens, but every time I find myself in awe of this art form’s ability to sink its teeth into my life and reveal bits of me that I didn’t know existed. How odd to have a piece of art explain your own feelings to you.

Thank you, Swan Lake, for being everything you are. The difficult pill that needs swallowing, the instructions manual that appears to be written in some language only decipherable through reflection. The glorious wave of warm sunlight when the water feels too cold to jump in alone. And thank you, Swan Lake, for showing me I can.