My mum being not a long time out of the hospital, my dad arranged with family friends to be at the house whenever he wasn't, so that someone could help her in case of an emergency. 24/7. A friend who used to work with my mum arrived at my house minutes before we left. Once we were a minute or so from the studio, my dad received a call from this friend saying that my mother had just passed out. She came to, and was alright. I took my class, was picked up and taken to the hospital. If memory serves me, which it admittedly might not as I'm not as studious of the technical side of my mother's condition as my father, than this passing out was an episode of ventricular tachachardia. This led to discussions and consultations and decisions and the end result was my mother being driven in an ambulance to Westchester Medical Center, where my father would go in the morning. Christmas break was spent in the Intensive Care Unit. My mother was in good hands, and so at the end of the break, I flew back down to Florida to resume my schooling and ballet.
Preparation for 'Nutcracker' gave way to preparation for 'Gaspar; a Pirate Fantasy', a show that some Patel students performed in with dancers from a local company called 'Ballet Fleming', run by Christopher Fleming. I was to play the part of a militiaman. There was some character dancing, but the real highlight was of course the scene in which the militiamen and pirates engaged in an epic duel with our swords. I'd taken three years of fencing in middle school, so I was familiar with foils, but none the less excited to be doing some stage combat; something completely new. I learned the positions and sequences and choreography, and the novelty of it was fantastic.
A huge part of this time was also dedicated to preparation for the Youth American Grand Prix. I had been practicing the classical variation from "La Fille Mal Garde", learning the technique and character of it and rehearsing it constantly to perfect both. It was coming along, and I naturally thought that it wasn't enough. But Peter Stark said something that really impacted me;
"Michael, it's not perfect. There are some things you need to work on. But it's improved a lot. I don't care if you make it to New York. Because two months ago, you couldn't do this variation. And now you can. And that's what matters. That's why we do this. So, to me, you've already won."
I didn't have any expectations, but I was none the less excited to perform.
Some time, probably two weeks after I arrived home in Tampa, and Jackson (18 year old Patel student, whose house it is I stay at and whose family I am forever grateful to) and I were driving home from ballet with another ballet boy who was staying with us for the week. I got a call from my dad saying that my mum had suffered a stroke and it wasn't looking very good. You can never prepare for how you're going to react to things like that, there are very few times that my reactions aren't.....underwhelming. I listen to what's been said. I think about it. And yet it seems to take time for the impact to sink in. So I went home. I ate dinner. Did my homework. Went to bed. I was awakened by the sound of my phone's vibrating scratching on the wooden windowsill by my bed. My father told me that the situation with my mother had worsened and she had a 40% chance of surviving the weekend (this was Thursday evening, or I suppose technically Friday morning). I woke my host father and he drove me to the airport. I flew up. And the next week is among the worst of my life.
My mum did survive the weekend. And despite a seemingly nonstop list of inhibitions creeping into any hope of stress release for the following week, she survived that too. She came out of the 8 day period in which the risk for serious brain damage from the stroke was finally ceased. Her immediate heart problems were under control for the moment. So on Wednesday night, the details for my return to Tampa were arranged. I flew in Thursday morning, going literally from the airport to the Patel Conservatory, immediately starting on my first ballet class in a week. My muscles were cold and I felt like it had taken no time for my muscle memory to be slighted. After several intensives, classes, and a slightly absurd mix of calm and stress, Thursday and Friday passed. I never did get to perform in Gaspar, but this obviously was not a concern at the time. But Saturday was the day of the Youth American Grand Prix Regionals in Tampa. I wasn't as ready as I would've been without the break, but I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I performed my solo with my best effort and enjoyed the experience. The time surrounding it required adjustment. It's always strange when everyone around you assumes that air of courtesy, when people's sympathy comes out in unusual niceness. It's not something I minded, and I appreciate it, but it was strange to be aware of the deliberate thought process that was undertaken in people's behavior towards me.
But my performing, social, and academic life had all had the volume taken down. I had spent a week expecting the imminent death of a loved one, and after that I felt like not doing the absolute best I could've in a competition was something not to be taken heavily. I was pleased to simply be there and that was enough.
Sunday was the gala, and is beyond description. Jeffrey and Lia Cirio returned to the stage here in Tampa, joined this time by some of the best dancers in the country, coming from a variety of companies; Boston Ballet, New York City Ballet, American Ballet Theatre, Miami City Ballet. They were also accompanied by outstanding teen dancers who had previously won the YAGP, and came from all over the world. I'm not ashamed to say that some of the dances brought tears to my eyes, and all of them left me gasping for air and my hands sore from applause. And oddly enough, seeing everyone from a 13 year old boy to a principal artist dance spectacularly didn't have the effect that I might have predicted. Rather than feeling insecure, and discouraged, I felt inspired. The "one day I could do that" feeling spread as the dream was dangled in front of me. It takes work. No one on that stage was born with that ability. Genetics help. "Being a natural" is a commonly misapplied dismissal, but there are exceptions. Some people are born with the bodies that make it easier than for other people. But that only goes so far. Beyond that, dedication is key. I'm skinny as a rail. My body is tight and inflexible. But I'm unusually tall (I've grown in the past few months, and I've reached a solid 6'2'', near enough 6'3''), and my long legs in comparison to my body are ideal. I have a chance. But that's up to me.
(Jeffrey Cirio in a photo often used as a promotional picture for the YAGP)
Once again, I refer to Peter Stark's inspirational words; "What you put in is what you take out."
It's simple. But it's the truth. If I don't work on my splits everyday, then I will never get them. If I don't work my muscles everyday, I will never improve them. Procrastination is self pity and work is self empowerment. And that's what I took from the gala.
A week after YAGP, I got a call from my dad again, this time right before a ballet class. This was the best news I'd received on the subject; they had found a heart for my mother. I flew up again. She had a heart transplant. They monitored her progress. I don't know exactly how long I was there. A few days. My mother continued to get better and the assurances were that everything was going to be fine. My mind was put at rest for the first time since the Tuesday before Christmas. By now, it's early February.
During this jumble of medical issues and ballet performances, the height of the summer program audition season was happening. The months of January and February contained weekends spent solely at the Orlando Ballet; the site of many auditions. My results were as follows:
Not accepted into the School of American Ballet.
Accepted into the American Ballet Theater School, but without scholarship.
Accepted into the Pacific Northwest Ballet School with a half tuition scholarship.
Accepted into the Miami City Ballet School with a full tuition scholarship.
Accepted into the Pittsburgh Ballet Theater School with a full tuition and housing scholarship.
The fact is that year round and summer training depend entirely on scholarship opportunities. With that said, I have chosen to attend the Pittsburgh Ballet Theater School Summer Intensive this year, and will be returning to the Patel Conservatory Next Generation Ballet here in Tampa for the year next fall.
February 9th comes around, and I turn 16. And for the first time in awhile, I have an extended period of time in which normalcy reigns. I get caught up in school. I have the time to work on ballet for real. We begin rehearsing for "Aida", an opera being performed locally that requested we dance in. It is an Egyptian theme, and I will be one of several gold statues. The portraying of this is simply the men spray painted gold, clothed only in a dance belt. I'm not really uncomfortable with this, except that I want to work on my abs more before performing.
Days become weeks. Spring break comes and goes. My mother's recovering fantastically, and will be able to go home this week. Now that her health is no longer the same kind of issue as it was, the normal turmoil of family life returns. My reactions are once again underwhelming.
I begin to notice changes in myself. I've gotten taller. And despite the fact that I am still extremely dissatisfied and insecure about my muscularity, I've gotten stronger. I can press the center bar, something that when first attempted in a men's class several months ago, I couldn't do. I work with two 20 lbs weights everyday. I work as hard as I can in dance and delight in every little improvement. It's gradual progression, but it's progression. The other day in partnering class, I was able to lift a girl into what's called a "bluebird". Again, this is no great feat. But it's something that I couldn't do before and I guess that's something. A change which is perhaps more important is my approach to ballet mentally. I watch more. Someone in class today got appraisal from Peter about how they held their torso during pirouhette. So I watched how he turned, and I held my torso in a similar way. And when I turned that way, the turn was a little easier. I've come to practice what I already understood in theory; that watching what other dancers mistakes and talents can be hugely helpful to correcting my own technique.
During my spring break, I took a class at Ithaca Ballet. It was a good class. I became aware of differences in training, and the largest is intensity. Doing it six hours a day is meaningless without applying one's self. And I was sweating buckets after the first combination. I also found the floor incredibly difficult to work on. It wasn't sprung and it was slippery. Turning was difficult, and all of your weight sunk into the ground when you landed from a jump. Which might not have helped me when I did so, and rolled onto my foot. It's been four or five days and several packs of ice, and the pain in my foot is only now beginning to ease.
Yesterday, I had my first men's class with Peter in possibly over a month (what with my absences in family crisis and his own trip to another dance competition in South Africa with another Patel student; Hannah Bettes, who is famous for her talent in the ballet world, despite being only 15. By the end of the unusually short half hour session, all of the boys, even the strongest, were unable to do a single pushup. Complaints about sore arms were not uncommon by the boys today. Yet I'm already feeling the benefit from working that hard on things like that.
Another event was the arrival of a new boy in our trainee program. He's a 14 year old. Very good and very strong. All of the boys challenge each other to turn more, leap higher, be more flexible, be stronger. Another addition to that is only a positive thing.
And with that, I conclude the first of what I intend to be a much more frequently updated blog. The last four months have been a roller coaster ride. But that's over now. Today is the twentieth of March. Now, I'm free to work and improve. Now I'm free to dance.
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