This post was originally sent through my author newsletter on January 20th, 2023. To subscribe to my newsletter and receive up-to-date news, musings, and more, click HERE.
After my Wednesday dance class this week, a newer student approached me to ask how long I'd been training with this particular teacher. I thought back: "Since 2010, maybe?" "Wow, so like 13 years?!" the 20-something said, eyes wide. And yes, my mind was a little blown to realize that that much time had passed since I first set foot in this specific class.
So much about my life has changed since then. I was freshly out of graduate school and had decided to continue freelancing for the time being, so I could polish my first novel. Publishing books for a living was still a dream. I wasn't yet married. I was five years away from even being ready to have a conversation about having kids, and seven years away from actually becoming a mom. (Let's not even talk about the complete lack of global pandemic...)
To be honest, 2010 Kathryn feels like an entirely different person than 2023 Kathryn. And yet...I was dancing.
And I'm still dancing.
"You just look like it brings you so much joy," the 20-something said on Wednesday, hitting the nail on the absolute head.
Taking that class each week does bring me joy—and not only because, with 13 years of this same teacher's training under my belt, my body knows what to do. I can let go a little. But the joy is also in the showing up. The still showing up. After all of the life changes. When work is hectic and I should probably spend the two hours (almost three, with the round-trip commute...) at my computer instead. When the writing isn't flowing. When my 40-year-old, birthed-a-child body doesn't feel like it once did. When something hurts. When I'm tired. (I'm always tired.)
I go to dance class, and I cultivate joy.
So far this year, I've been thinking—and writing—a lot about cultivating my career, and about cultivating an environment of creativity in my life. But what about simply cultivating joy?
For me, that means making time to stretch and strengthen my body. It means challenging my brain to pick up long phrases of choreography. It means chasing that feeling of flying across the dance floor, completely immersed in the music and the moment. It means leaving whatever else is going on outside the studio door, even if only for two hours a week.
What do you do that you don't get paid for—that you don't even always have time for—but you keep at it because it brings you joy? Is there a way to make even more space for that in your life? Can you cultivate more joy in 2023?
~Kathryn
What I'm:
Reading: Anatomy: A Love Story, by Dana Schwartz. This is a historical YA novel with a decidedly gothic feel, set in 1817 Edinburgh, about a young lady who dreams of becoming a surgeon and a boy who works as a Resurrection Man, digging up bodies for medical students to dissect. This book won't be for everyone, but if you like historical stories about young women trying to enter traditionally male realms—and you aren't squeamish about, well, anatomy—you might like it! I'm maybe a third of the way in, and enjoying it so far.
Watching: My husband was away last weekend, and whenever he's out of town, I watch things that I know he won't be interested in. Enter Netflix's "Dance Monsters," a reality series in which dancers compete...as CGI monsters. I didn't expect much from this show, and it has completely won me over. It's refreshingly drama-free, the dancing ranges from decent to great, and the special effects are impressive. Do you want to watch a sweet, fuzzy yellow monster named Peaches (in real life, an engineer on an oil rig!) do an energetic Broadway-style number to "One Night Only" from the musical Dreamgirls? "Dance Monsters" might be up your alley.
Baking: I may have mentioned before that my kiddo is an aspiring baker/chef. A few days ago, she had a vision: pink-and-blue swirled mermaid cupcakes with blue buttercream to represent the ocean, topped with a fondant mermaid. I was able to make all of that happen for her...aside from the fondant. We painted sliced strawberries with edible silver, instead. They were a triumph, if I do say so myself!
Loving: There really is nothing like seeing your child feel proud of something they dreamed up and created. Here's to many more baking adventures together in the years to come!
