The Art of Becoming

No matter how advanced I become in one area of dance, I somehow always find myself returning to the beginning of something else.

After years of training, teaching, and developing my understanding of movement, there is still a part of me that is constantly discovering something new.

Sometimes it's an entirely different discipline. Other times, it's uncovering another layer of something I thought I already understood. A deeper awareness of my anatomy, the way my muscles engage, the mechanics of a movement, or the smallest adjustment in form that changes everything.

The more I learn, the more I realize how much there is left to discover.

And I hope I never lose that.

Learning to Be a Beginner

When I first started pole dancing, I wanted so badly to be good at it. Not necessarily extraordinary. Just good enough to stop feeling embarrassed. Good enough to not feel like the worst person in the room.

I was impatient with myself. I wanted to accomplish things quickly, and when I couldn't, I often interpreted that as some sort of personal failure.

I think a lot of us experience this when we begin something new.

We want the gratification of accomplishment without fully understanding what it takes to get there. We watch someone perform a movement beautifully and wonder why our bodies can't seem to replicate it yet.

And somewhere along the way, comparison starts stealing the enjoyment from something we began because we loved it, all because of self inflicted expectations.

We're so busy wondering how to progress faster that we forget to appreciate the fact that we're progressing at all.

The Milestones We Forget to Celebrate

One of the things I've recognized in myself, and something I frequently notice in students, is how easily we rob ourselves of feeling proud.

I remember finally achieving movements I had worked toward for so long, only to meet those accomplishments with, "Finally. I should have had this by now."

Instead of, "Wow. I actually did that."

When we compare our first chapter to someone else's twentieth, we begin treating our own milestones as though they're insignificant.

But your first dip spin deserves just as much recognition as your first aerial invert. Your first quarter-turn pirouette matters just as much as the day you accomplish a full pirouette en pointe.

Those foundational moments aren't simply obstacles standing between you and the more impressive things you want to achieve.

They're the reason those things eventually become possible.

And when we rush past the foundations because they don't feel exciting enough, we often find ourselves returning to them later, correcting habits and filling gaps in understanding that patience could have helped us develop in the first place.

Becoming, Again and Again

Dance has changed my relationship with myself in ways I never anticipated.

It challenged my limiting beliefs, exposed my impatience, and repeatedly asked me to believe in capabilities I hadn't yet discovered.

But I don't think my relationship with progress truly changed until I started making room for the imperfect parts of learning.

The misunderstandings.

The awkward attempts.

The days when something that felt easy yesterday suddenly feels impossible.

I began to understand that these weren't interruptions to my progress. They were part of it.

Every version of myself as a dancer, including the frustrated, inexperienced, impatient ones... contributed something to the way I move today.

And the more I learned to appreciate those versions of myself, the less I felt the need to rush through them.

I still have goals. I still want to improve. I still experience moments of frustration.

But I no longer want to reach a level of experience where I forget what it feels like to learn.

Because no matter how far I go, there will always be another layer to uncover, another movement to understand, another version of myself I haven't met yet.

I think there's something beautiful about never being finished.

The Journey is a space for exploring movement, growth, and everything we discover

about ourselves along the way.

A question for you: When was the last time you accomplished something small and allowed yourself to genuinely feel proud of it?