Five, six, seven, eight.
began ever so a exercise.
counting, as if wrapped in music that time, asked to be tamed.
It made no difference, or a dictation of the teacher screamed in your mind.
You had to count, otherwise you lose time and musicality ... and succeeded disconnected.
Or rather, he could not.
So start over, even though you hurt all over.
Why stick your wooden pounding on the floor of the classroom teacher in the " five, six, seven, eight "which meant starting over.
The sound of two sticks on the shape and color different but so close in the request to continue, punctuate your strength and your resistance, especially when his knee was not tense or the instep was not perfectly arched toes.
remember like it was yesterday the light touch of the stick on my knee, willy-nilly , was tense.
And above all, the sound of creaking wood that bears witness to countless hours of hard work.
We often deal with ourselves, especially in those moments when we look in the mirror and they're not enough, and we feel the weight of the opinions or views that others do or have done on our behalf.
nearly ten years since I stopped dancing, but the rigid discipline that accompanied my body in all those years of my growth, has become a part of me.
classical dance is like a religion.
E 'rule, sacrifice, strength, discipline.
A discipline that, if it goes for twelve years, it is inevitable that you come in and be with you for the rest of your life, making you become inflexible with yourself in your daily life.
Try watching a dancer, when, with her tutu and her shoes, dance in a theater before an audience.
smiles.
not see the pain, there is no sacrifice, there is no rule, there is no inflexibility.
But before going on stage, the dancer is his bar in the classrooms of a school of dance, with the echo of the noise in his ears stick his rhythm the teacher "five, six, seven, eight a new beginning.
There you see the discipline that only a few are paid.
they understand.
On the stage of life, it happens more or less the same thing.
If a person shows in a certain way, everyone watching as it appears.
Like when you see a dancer on stage, dancing and smiles.
And you think you've discovered the essence.
If we make the effort to get out of the theater and find yourself in a dance school, made up of many large classrooms with huge mirrors that reveal everything and all betray, feel what it is the essence, even if the dancer is the same.
It takes an enormous effort to twirl the ends, the same effort, perhaps, that you have in dealing with the true essence of people.
Stop apparently means see.
Cross that appearance and grasp the deep meaning look.
not only in the eye, but the soul of a person.
Not everyone is as they appear: they need only to be discovered little by little.
Because life is not just the glitter and lights up a stage, but above all a time that demands to be lived and that only a few are allowed to live.
Who has the courage to peek into those huge rooms with huge mirrors and see what's inside.
Even if it means waiting a "five, six, seven, eight, before starting again.
