Aerial.

So yesterday I went back to aerial for the first time in like two months. I had no idea what to expect and I was nervous. My usual coach goes pretty hard on me, which is nice, usually. But I had done next to no stretching these past two months and so I wasn't really looking forward to working until I felt my muscles shaking. 
I got there, still nervous. Found out that I had a sub that day, which gave me a little relief. Subs usually don't go as hard on me as my usual coach does. 
Warm-up was on the tumble-track (a long trampoline) instead of running around the air studio seven times, which I appreciated. 
The first thing we did in the air was climbing the silks, and I thought I would die, but as soon as my feet came off the ground, and I felt that familiar feeling of my hands and ankles against the silks, I realized how much I missed dance. I realized how much dance defines me. 
Aerial is something the body has to get used to. We spend our lives on the ground, walking, running, etc. So many people have high fears because it's not really something the body is used to. We generally want to know that we're safe, and most of the time, when we're on the ground, we have a sense of safety. (There are exceptions, like maybe you're on the ground but you're running for your life from a crazy dude with a gun, but I won't go into that.) 

The point is: 

Aerial takes getting used to because suddenly, there is no floor. Suddenly, your only safety is this fabric and your strength. Suddenly, this silk is wrapped around you, holding you fifteen feet in the air, wrapped in awkward places, forcing you to move in ways you didn't think were possible. Suddenly, you have to stretch muscles you didn't realize you had, get used to feeling those muscles shaking with exhaustion, and learn to love that feeling. We're not used to being in this situation at first. It can be uncomfortable, it can be weird, it can be painful. Sometimes, it can feel limiting, like there aren't a lot of ways you can move, there's only one way to untangle yourself and you've forgotten it. I don't know about you, but sometimes, when I'm up there, it doesn't feel good to be so limited, to have so few options. I'm used to moving around, clumsily, maybe, but moving. 

But at the same time, I've never felt so free, so alive, so beautiful. We were generally made for the ground, yes, but if you have the opportunity to defy that, to defeat gravity, take it. (Unless it's leaping off a high cliff, in which case, don't take it.) Aerial is something that hardly anyone knows about, and that's a shame, because it's really so amazing. It's painful--it's oh so painful-- and I've had people ask why. Because theres suddenly a fabric squeezing your thigh so tight you might black out, or because you're balancing on the lyra making every vertebrae in your back feel like they're being welded together. Aerial is painful. There are bruises to prove it. But it's beautiful. 

(The last few paragraphs might evolve into a poem at some point. Heads up.) 

So I'm sore. I woke up and couldn't touch my toes without groaning. Actually, I couldn't touch my toes at all. 
But it's worth it. It always is. 
--Me