Big Dance 2026 (but actually just self-acceptance)

Previous one: https://ddrkirbyisq.blogspot.com/2025/05/big-dance-2025.html 

Yet another one in the books...this was my 11th Big Dance all-nighter.  It was a good night for me!

For those of us who are less inclined toward seeking dance partners, more reserved perhaps, there is perhaps always a sort of increased inherent challenge when it comes to dance events.  I can only speak to my own limited experience, but I truly cannot think of a single dance event where I haven't felt that sort of awkward difficulty in finding a partner to dance with, it is the reason why I used to think so often, "why am I dealing with this, shouldn't I just pursue dance on my own by myself instead".  It makes me wonder sometimes what it is like to experience that differently.  I am perceptive enough to know that there are those that share my experience, and those that have a different experience of things, but who is to say anything about how they actually compare?  It is a spectrum really, I think everyone shares similar struggles on some level when it comes to these things, but at the same time, you can trace back to various therapy-speak about self-worth and attachment styles where some of us perhaps have a more internalized view of being a burden to others, or an accumulation of rejection sensitivity.  The idea that we need to play the "proper" role in any social, dance, or romantic connection, because that is the way to become accepted and loved.

It's not a new insight to me that my reserved nature is an accumulation of past circumstances, but the more life experiences I have the more I am able to put things into context.  What are you supposed to do when you learn that somebody loves you not for who you are, but for who they expect you to be?  And what do you do when the obvious answer to that question is not an option for you?  We learn so quickly that it is only our positive traits, "correct" thoughts, "acceptable" desires that are to be shown to others, because everything else is a liability.  We sometimes hide who we are, sure, but even more than that, we take this -- our politeness, our discerning nature, the way we *care* for others by putting our best foot forwards -- as our strength and identity.

And who can fault us?  In a photoshopped world where we are told on all fronts what is desirable, what is "right", what are the red flags to avoid, what is "cringe", we are hypervigilant of how we can be negatively perceived -- of how others around us ARE negatively perceived.  "There is a monster inside", we conclude, because we have seen that "monster" in others.  And in a self-righteous twist of morality we "protect" others from our whole selves in the way we secretly wish they would keep their whole selves from us.  "What is the difference between a child and an adult?" we ask ourselves, and we conclude that maturity can only be wrought from pushing down all that is unsightly.

We keep safe our true feelings and thoughts, but once in a blue moon, someone comes along that we feel might accept them for what they are.  They ask for the key to that locked box, and with shaking hands we unlock it for them.  What, then, when they revulse in disgust, telling us there must be some sort of mistake?  We should never have tried to show our true selves at all.

Even in this day and age where I keep claiming I blog less often "than I used to", blogging about my crappy days, my depressive episodes, my rambling thoughts and feelings, remains a vital practice for me to expose a part of myself that is less refined.  To be "authentic", as they say.  It is not something that comes naturally, but maybe it ought not to be in the first place.  We are multifaceted beings, full of conflicts and contradictions.  Perhaps it is simply the nature of some situations, that we end up putting ourselves in the line of crossfire, between what is true, and what is "right".

Some things stay the same, some other things change.  I think what made this Big Dance slightly more enjoyable than some others was simply that I felt more connections to individual people.  I was able to have some rare dances where I really viscerally felt the enjoyment of it (a rarity these days, but not something that has gone extinct), I had one or two friends to keep me company through the night and simply share experiences and recountings with, and I had a couple of folks that I got to know a little bit better over the course of the evening.  Some of these bonds will be short-lived, I'm sure, but there is always that small chance that one of them could be meaningful.  And that is really the only way to go about it, right?

There's a lot of interesting thoughts and feelings, having been through the ages and the years, still in this same place somehow.  Things which changed, things which didn't change.  I think about my role in it all, too -- a curious one, in some regards, yet in other senses, completely unremarkable.  I talked to a friend of mine about how it seemed like the dancers nowadays seem to be interested in pursuing a different set of things than what I value in dance.  But also, who am I to say what anybody else should or shouldn't be interested in?  I am just one person.  If I want to explore, portray, and share what I think is beautiful in dance, then the way to do that is by sharing it through my dance itself -- and I do (or at least, try).  And if I want to see a space that embodies what I believe is important, then the way to do that is to simply host an event that speaks to my own values.  And I do.  There is nothing more that I have to do.

I got back home probably around 8 or 8:30 in the morning, and slept until around 5:30 in the evening.  I'm feeling a little off of sorts, which is to be expected from all that.  I feel a little icky not having gotten any good productivity days in quite some time, but I also understand that that's just the way it is sometimes.  Sometimes we don't have to force ourselves to be anything other than what is simply our natural state.

It's been really scarring, to have people that need me to be somebody else other than who I actually am.  To feel that my worth is simply a matter of how closely I can conform to their expectations.  I think it instilled this idea into my spirit that there is no place in the world for who I am.

Don't let anybody tell you who you need to be.  There is only one other person who I could trust with that, and She does not exist.

We are always losing something or another, or at the very least, feeling like we are.  Sometimes more quickly, at other times more gradually.  It used to be that I'd feel the loss of people, connections, experiences, activities, memories.  Somehow, I find that the flavor of loss has changed.  It's not to say that I don't lose those types of things anymore.  I still lose people, I still find that things have changed.  If I open up the little box, I still see the crystal unicorn, not only that, but I see its mate.  I have both of them, you see.

But somehow none of those things are at the forefront.  From what I've been writing in here, it's already apparent that I don't find myself wishing to travel back in time to the past.  That has never been a surprising thing; I've always been aware enough of the changes, of the "milestones" along my descent from the dreams of "forever" and "someday".  Like dominoes falling one by one, it was a natural progression -- one experience scarring me, triggering a changed perspective on another.  It was scary at first, but that fright had given way to grief, weariness, and perhaps now, even a sort of somber acceptance.

I don't feel the loss of people in my life anymore; it's the loss of parts of myself that I seem to feel and write about.  That too, is not necessarily a new thing, either.  I wrote many times about not being able to be who I used to be, not being able to dance the way I used to be.  It was not always negative either; I knew for example, that I could probably not write music the way I used to, but there was not a reason I felt like I really needed to.  Of course, there was -- for a time -- a lingering sentiment of, "if I could be who I used to be then I could have what I used to have".  But that, too, faded, along with the rest, it seems.

I don't feel destabilized, like I don't have any value, or that I'm not myself anymore, or that I'm not special, or anything drastic like that.  I still hold strong ideals, precise standards, virtues that I espouse even in private.  But there is a sense of spiritual loss.  Perhaps it is akin to a sort of nihilism of the soul.

We all know where this kind of thing came from.  Is it really surprising that the more I handed out, the more I lost?  Draco gave away half of his heart, but ends being afraid that the choice has cost him his "soul".  In the end he is able to return to the "stars", but at what cost?

What is the most tragic end for the Girl of the Stars?  Is it that she would join the stars by taking the leap, or is it that she would simply give up entirely?  If she were to turn her back on the sky, to "return to the city", let's say, it would be the end of her, in so far as it would be the end of her story.  She could not be the Girl of the Stars if the story is no longer about the Star.

The situation is, perhaps, different for me.  I do not need to be reborn with a new name, as I find myself in this new world without the familiar signposts, without the north star to guide me.  I do not need a new direction, I can simply go the same way that I always have.  What is missing is the "raison d'être".  I always had a goal before; even an impossible goal was a thing that brought definition and clarity.  It contextualized all of the struggles, the hopelessness.  That goal, though, has faded.  I am waiting, perhaps, for a door to open.  For something to show me the way, after I stopped walking forward in the darkness.  That sounds wrong though.  I'm not really waiting so much as I am simply stopped. 

2026.04

https://ddrkirbyisq.bandcamp.com/album/monthlies-202604

We keep on improving ourselves and our work, believing that someday it will lead us to happiness, but no amount of talent, skill, or discipline truly gets us there. Society may value certain traits and disciplines -- confidence, diligence, charisma, performance -- but it is only those more abstract things that can serve as nourishment for the spirit and soul. Peace, faith, compassion, and the like.

I find it harder these days to press onwards. Not that I have a problem going on with life, or the day to day, but it feels difficult to want to proceed forward. Even those things that I took for granted like putting thoughts and emotions into writing in my blog entries and letters, feel sometimes like a dream where I try to run as fast as I can yet the ground keeps slipping under me.

In the past I would always resist forward motion because my goal was to reconnect with my past. But over the years, after licking my wounds and stitching my broken-ness back together, it's no longer a guiding north star for me to reach out to, unreachable as it may have been. I'm good enough at continuing my ever-steady navigation in the same direction as I always have, but perhaps there is a sort of lack of purpose I'm feeling, a sense of "so what?"

I clasp my hands together to pray, but the derelict shrines provide no solace. What remains is nothing more than the stillness of the lake.

A wordless prayer, then.