About a week before auditions, I asked God if I was going to make the program. My answer was clear: "Erin, you already know the answer to that. You will make the program." I honestly questioned, wondered if it was just my own thoughts. As I continued to pray, I continued to get the same answer. I knew I would make it. I wasn't feeling cocky. I knew I had to go to that audition and give it my all, but I felt a calm reassurance that I was ready to nail this tryout. And I did. I walked out of the audition confident that I had succeeded. It was one of those times were I felt that spirit-body connection so strongly that I felt like I might explode.
During this weekend of auditions, I also had a performance. I was in the faculty works concert and the second show was the same day as auditions. Because I had to be in the RB so early and because I was already ready, I walked to the dance office to see if they had posted the list. They had. And my name was not on it.
I read the list about 5 times, read every name slowly, making sure they hadn't put mine there in code or something. I checked the walls surrounding the list to make sure there wasn't a second list. My name was nowhere to be found. Shocked, I walked down to the green room for the pre-performance devotional. I saw all these dancers--majors and non-majors--standing in a circle. Some I knew, most I didn't, but I felt this overwhelming sense of family. This was my family and I all of a sudden felt so close and united with all these dancers.
After the devotional, I spoke with the teacher whose piece I was performing in and told her I had not made it. I didn't think it was possible, but she seemed more shocked than I was that I had not made it. She said she would talk to the head of the department about me and see what she could do.
I performed. As soon as the stage went black, I marched right off, grabbed my phone, and made it outside right as the tears began to fall. I called my mom (another shocked reaction). I was sitting on the curb between the Tanner Building and the RB. Nobody was around and it was very dark. Just me and all this space. But I felt like I somehow filled it.
I realized my tears weren't out of sadness or disappointment, but gratitude. Gratitude for the last year--for the things I had learned and the teachers I had had. For the friends I had made and the family I had joined. Gratitude for my body. Not only can I dance, but I can run and skip and walk. I can play the piano. I can sing. I can see colors and hear music. I can hug my family and friends. I can smile at someone. I can express how I feel in so many different ways. Not only that, but I can feel. I can be happy, excited, and grateful. And I can also hurt. I can know that I care about someone or something so much that it hurts. I can feel the pain of a heartbreak and the relief in its healing. I can feel. And that means I'm living. I think this is another way that Jesus Christ lived the perfect life. He felt everything. It was perfect in this sense because it was complete.
For some reason, I still didn't show up on the list. But I knew I had made it in every other way. I had made it to the place I needed to be. I know that God did not lie to me. I needed to know I had made it, but not make it. About a year and a half later, I found out why.
I had one of the most profound spiritual experiences that night, sitting out on the curb. It's so crazy to me that it has been almost 2 years since that night. I think that was the moment I realized that this "body issue" wasn't really, and never has been, about just my body. It was, and always will be about my body and my spirit.
