Spinning

When I was 7 in our ballet class we learned something called “spotting.”

All the ballerinas did it, you pick a spot, any spot that will remain your constant. You can’t let go of your spot or else the spinning will catch up with you.

We’d start at one corner of the room, one foot turned out, the other pointed. One arm in second position, the other in first.

You pick your spot and as you turn your body, you keep looking until the very last moment, when you can’t possibly look any longer, and you whip your head around, re-orienting yourself on the same spot. 

We did it slowly at first, gaining in speed. We’d do pique turns or pirouettes across the room. We’d do them in the center, on pointe or demi-pointe. Singles, doubles, some of us even tried triples.

The teacher’s voice would ring in the air, “Spot, Sydney! Spot!”

Everyone else could seem to do it. They could keep focused, they could re-orient themselves, they could go turn after turn towards that same spot, never dizzying, never falling, never letting on that the entire world was whirling around us.

They could go faster and faster. Turns and more turns. 

I’d pick my spot and somehow I couldn’t get my head to turn at just the right moment. Was I doing it wrong? Was this something I would just learn better over time? Was this something I just couldn’t do?

All the other girls twirled and twirled.

 and I did nothing but hit the floor.

I couldn’t stop the world from catching up with me…