It’s the holiday season; the time when we reflect on the year, what we’re grateful for, and what we’d like going into the next year. This season, I’ve been thinking about wonder.
One of the most amazing feelings a person can have is wonder. There’s this unbridled sense of joy that comes with wonder. It’s pure, it’s honest, it’s positive.
Experiencing wonder is beautiful, soul-filling, and thirst quenching. And so is witnessing someone else’s experience with wonder.
One of the gigs I am fortunate enough to have is being a drawing model for Friday events at the High Museum. During these gigs I sit or stand in a variety of poses so museum patrons can try their hand at sketching, while an instructor offers advice and tips.
Being that I sit there, relatively immobile for 15-20 minutes at a time, I have the opportunity to watch the museum patrons, whether they’re taking in the installations or trying their hand at sketching.
There are many moments from these gigs that make me smile. Be it the little girls who were infatuated with my tutu and pointe shoes when I modeled as a ballerina, or the man who rounded the corner of the gallery and exuded joyful surprise when he stumbled upon the group of drawers. I equally enjoy the couples and families who sit down and draw, joking with each other, enjoying creating art while being surrounded by art.
I see and experience wonder when I teach. The little ballerinas who wonder at their success when I compliment their dancing. The budding artists who wonder when I teach them a new step, or when they properly execute a step that’s been challenging them.
I have the privilege to experience wonder when I dance too, even after so many years. I felt wonder almost every day in class as a student. I felt wonder in rehearsals when my peers helped me or complimented me.
Today I relish the days when I feel wonder walking into company class and realizing “hey, you ARE a professional dancer”. I feel wonder when students and young dancers I’ve worked with marvel at my performance, or my demonstrations in class. My answer is always the same when they ask how, “hard work and practice”.
One of my most cherished moments of wonder occurred when I was 18 years old and a senior in high school. We’d just finished a matinee show of our winter holiday show, and this was the first year we started doing Nutcracker. I danced the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and now I was standing at my designated booth, in costume, signing autographs for the youngest patrons. So many of the kids were shy, happily getting their autograph and picture and then prancing off to the next character. Out of nowhere I saw a little boy in a sweater vest beeline his way right to my booth, and before I knew it he had his arms wrapped around me. He took me totally by surprise, and before I could say anything he blurted out “you were my favorite!”, with the biggest grin radiating from his face.
The wonder in his eyes, and the grandiose nature of his smile filled me with my own sense of wonder and magic that I’d never experienced before. Since the day I started dancing I have loved the wonder, the magic, the bravado of the stage. And I always said I wanted to share that love with my audience. And this sweet little angel single handedly confirmed for me the reason I continued to practice, why I continued to perform.
I have the privilege to do what I love almost every day, but that doesn’t always mean my days are magical. Just like anyone else sometimes the days are long, tiresome, or just plain bad. And it’s in these moments I try to look for good, to remember the wonder that’s still in my life, and the memories of wonder I have to look back on.
Wonder is beautiful, magical, pure and honest. I hope your world is full of wonder.
