Climbing

I have been pole dancing for about a year now, with little breaks for rest and surgery. After a year of swinging around the pole, I managed to ascend. I looked up as I climbed, not noticing how high up I was. When I reached as high as I could go, I looked down. My first thought? “Holy shit.” The other women in the room looked up because, of course, I said that out loud. I told them it was my first EVER climb and they cheered for me as I wondered HOW I WAS GOING TO GET DOWN. (I did make it. There was shimmying.)

Later on, with sore arms and a blue/brown bruise on my shin, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was somehow a lesson. I stood on the ground while other women climbed up, wondering how they managed to get so high. Of course, I already knew the answer: they tried. They practiced. They kept trying until they knew it so well, their bodies took over.

It is easy to forget the main lesson I have learned over a lifetime of dance: practice. It has been years since I was an active student, but soon I will be back. Re-learning the things I thought I knew includes being brave enough to try again and again until I can do the thing. My pole climb isn’t the best, but it will get better, I have to be okay with being bad at for a bit. Pole dance is teaching me so much. Jasmine poses, stag spins, and perseverance.