The Body Issue: Part 4

It took me a year to build my confidence up again. It was a different kind of confidence than I was used to--a kind of confidence that was completely internal. Certain individuals were placed in my life during this time to help me see it. This young woman who is strong, brave, talented, and beautiful with so much potential. I caught glimpses of her when I really danced, when I served, when I was obedient. She became stronger and began to shine through this body. Sometimes I could connect the two--spirit and body--in a way that left me breathless and humbled. They were very much ah-ha! moments. I felt like I was very prepared to make this major.

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. 

The Body Issue: Part 3

This is the story of my first year as a wannabe dance major at BYU.

I graduated high school with the expectations to go on and do music. I was good at music. I won scholarships for music. I had been actively involved in all music-like activities. It was my "thing".

So I think I kind of surprised everyone in my choice to major in dance. I had done after-school ballet off and on since I was 18 months old. But I was never excellent at it. And I didn't have the dancer body with Heidi Klum legs. (Who even has Heidi Klum legs? Heidi Klum, probably).

So my first semester of BYU came and with it my first day of dance in the RB. Dance 241. I wore skinny jeans and my hair down, thinking we wouldn't dance on the first day. I'm always that person who doesn't get the email about "what to bring/wear to your first day of school". We danced. And I somehow managed to walk with driving hips and work on head-tail connection (because that's what you do in modern dance) that first day of class. We were doing the most simple of movements, but I loved every second of it. I was in my "happy place" outside of real life. I remember thinking This is going to be me for the next four years! It was one of the best days I've ever had at school. Dancing all day every day sounded like complete bliss to me. And a lot of it was. I met some of my best friends in those classes, I had some of my most spiritual experiences dancing at BYU, and I had some out-of-this-world-incredible teachers.

Auditions for the major came around the end of October and I remember all the sophomores and juniors in my classes saying, "Oh, you'll get in no problem. You have to be pretty bad to not get in." Well, audition day came and I didn't make it. I didn't even make callbacks. 

I was devastated. And embarrassed. I asked one of my teachers what I should work on and she very bluntly told me, "You're weak. And you're dancing is all the same. You're like one big bowl of vanilla ice cream. I want to see some chocolate and strawberry. You need to be more dynamic." Okay, if you're going to insult me, at least let me be the chocolate ice cream. Ugh.

So I lost all confidence and gained a whole lot of determination to prove this teacher (and the whole dance department) that this girl could dance every Cold Stone flavor and then some.

That first semester was probably my hardest. Dance tests are hard. They were for me at least. I struggled remembering the routines and one of my teachers liked to throw in handstands (um, hello girl who never learned how to cartwheel). I had issues with being upsidedown. Basically I did bad on the tests. Which were 90% of the grade. So basically I did bad in the class. I got a C+, missing the B's by .16 percent. My first C in my entire life (okay, not true. I got one my last semester of AP Stats senior year because I was in the musical and never had time for math homework). I begged and begged for a B- and finally got it, but still felt like a C+ dancer. C definitely stood for "crappy" in this situation. I was a crappy plus dancer which is the worst you can be. They might as well have given me a T for Troll.

The semester after that was better. And the spring and summer terms were better. Like I said, I was determined to prove I could dance. I didn't take a break. I worked and worked and worked and went to school year-round. Finally, fall 2010 arrived and I was ready to be an official dance major at Brigham Young University.