Part of the reason I write in a public blog at all is because I think it's important to validate human existence, experience, and struggles, and that validation is not something I see much of in our social media spaces.  Reading about other people's struggles in high school, however petty, vague, or mysterious they might have been, helped me feel that I was not alone.  It's only natural that I feel the need to continue that on.  If not to set an example, then at least to pay it forward.

That said, it's time that I say a little something more concrete about dance.

Let me start by saying this: If you are one of those people who backs away from dancing because you aren't good enough, then let me tell you what I've learned after 10 years: there is no such thing as "good enough".  The real reason behind doubting yourself is simply being afraid.  Afraid of being vulnerable, of not performing to a partner's expectations, of not doing the right thing.  There's nothing wrong with that at all, but don't fool yourself into thinking that it's a problem that will go away "once you're better".

The more I've practiced, the more I realize my own flaws.  And believe me, it is very difficult to work on the things that you aren't good at.  It's easy to practice what you're good at.  It's hard to put the work into things that you struggle with, things that you aren't already comfortable and confident in.  It's one of the reasons why many dancers struggle to pick up a different role once they've already become comfortable in one.  And yes, after 10 years of dancing, I still have many things that I have shied away from.

I bring this up because I've been struggling with an issue lately where every time I go to a dance event, I see people socializing, having fun, and putting themselves out there, and every time that happens I am torn between two feelings: a feeling that I am wholly inadequate at my inability to be vulnerable and outgoing, and a feeling that I should stay back and not even try to be that way.

But if I've learned anything over the past couple of years, it's that I can only start to approach this feeling of inadequacy after accepting that it's just fine if I decide not to grow at all, too.  I must accept myself, and feel comfortable in my own skin, before I start to look towards growth.  But it's been hard lately, and that is part of the reason that I've started to think about Sayuri again.  Because Sayuri never doubted herself, or who she wanted to be.  She never needed to change, because she understood that who she was was already beautiful, and she only needed to be herself -- nothing more.

It's been hard to accept myself, when I see how much better other people are.  Not in the way that they dance, but in the fact that they DO dance.  I never used to care so much about how I made other people felt.  But I'm no longer ignorant, and I feel a heavy responsibility now to be more confident, even though no one ever asked me to.

In my college years, and even afterwards, I often used to ask myself, "What would Timm[ie] do?".  The Timm[ie] of my high school days, who knew so strongly what defined himself, and the standards he held himself to.  But I find myself now asking, "What would Sayuri do?".

Sayuri's confidence, I think, came from a different place than what I see from others on the dance floor.  It is a different kind of confidence, once that is not outward, but inward...a calm feeling of peace.  And as I think about this, I realize that this...this, is really what I am searching for.  Not to be like anyone else that I see, but to be warm, polite, and welcoming in a way that only I know.  I, and Sayuri herself.

For much of my life, the path forward to success looked different than what I was told.  I was told to be assertive, confident, talkative.  I was told to move on, to let go of the past.  I was told to give up on old friends.  I was told that I should not wear certain clothes, and that I should not behave in certain ways.  But it was only through finding my own path that I was able to find my own strength.

It's selfish, maybe even egotistical, but I sometimes hope that if I become strong, I will be able to serve as an example for others to learn from.  To show people, that strength and beauty can take more than one form.