Standing Ovation

Standing ovations are heavy. The performance is over, applause has begun, and I often find myself assessing my cojones for the boldness to be first out of my seat. Some tight-fisted little thing in me says I am weighing the critical merits of the performance when what I actually am is chicken and facing a tragic glitch in my constitution.

I recently saw Stephen Petronio's work onstage at the Joyce Theater and absurdly faced this dilemma. At turns sexy and powerful, accessible yet deliciously opaque, Petronio's dancers and choreography answered the nagging "Why dance?" with more grace, pathos and sex appeal than I've ever seen before.

So why wasn't I first out of my seat when the applause began?

Because I find it difficult sometimes to be open and generous with my love. It's a small and rotten thing this feeling and requires an almost physical redirection of self to make the shift. The times I feel most beautiful are when that wrenching shift isn't necessary to let out the words "I love you", or "Thank you" or "Bravo!" and I am free enough inside to pour love out.

UPDATE Since writing this post, I've found myself markedly more open with my love. Lots of good things are coming together, and that's part of the change, but writing through this helped a great deal