Last night I saw the fabulous Florence + The Machine at Terminal 5 in NYC. I spent the summer listening to her belt in my ear as I traipsed through Europe. I used to get a charge from her everyday while running on the treadmill - there's nothing like hearing...
"Run fast for your mother, fast for your father
Run for your children and your sisters and your brothers
Leave all your love and your loving behind you
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive"
...to make you want to RUN. (As a side note, last night she asked us all to jump up and down in unison at that point in the song. It's been a long time since I've been a part of such communal joy as I felt in that moment). As I watched her wood-nymph-body, long and slender, waif-like with a mess of fiery red hair twirl around the stage, my first thought was, "I want to be that. I will never be able to BE that."
She was beautiful and genuine, enthralled with the present moment and an image of self-assurance in her talents and artistry. Instead of rejoicing in all of this, I instead felt badly for myself for the simple fact that my legs would never be that long and lean, I would never be able to wear the shimmery onesie in front of a thousand people like she could, and my voice would never allow me to belt out notes like that. I was mourning the attributes I would never have, the Florence I could never be.
As I looked around and saw the faces around me, I noticed that everyone around me was swaying, smiling, holding the hands of their lovers, singing along. There was a young man in front of me, probably 18 years old and oblivious to his youth, jumping up and down at the recognition of each new song played. Everyone (except the lame people who like to push and shove their way closer to the stage) was having a great time! That's when I realized: It's not always about you!
By allowing myself this jealous feeling, I was robbing myself of the pleasure of the moment. I remembered back to a couple years ago when I was participating in Choreolab with Monica Bill Barnes. She asked us to bring in a list of people who inspired us. At the time I think James Thierree and Miguel Gutierrez were on my list. I admired their work and thought that if I could figure out how to do what they did, I could be a successful theatre/dance-maker. Monica shared her list with us and said something I, unfortunately, often forget: "I will never be like some of these people. It's OK for me to love their work and admire them, even be inspired by them. That doesn't mean I have to be them. They do their thing and I do my thing. I can find joy in what they do because I can't do it."
This thought blew my mind at the time. It is so simple, the fact that it is possible to find joy in someone else's beauty and talent without feeling the need to have it myself. Florence was the perfect example, and when I saw the happiness she imbued to the sweaty crowd around me and I remembered Monica's words, I was able to release the jealousy and love her because I can never be her and she can never be me.
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