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    • #16584
      Bailey Vincent
      Keymaster

      Yesterday was my longest work day of the week (and also the day when I can look forward to our forum-friend Paul writing his Sunday reflections), and I… Am… Dead.

      I woke up at about 8-something to get ready- make sure snacks and meds and dance clothes were packed. I rushed my angsty children out the door a couple hours later, sat in traffic for awhile, and eventually dropped them at their theater program about an hour in travel-time away (the first out-of-the-house thing they’ve done since the start of the pandemic, and one that luckily requires masks and decent behavior). Then, running late, I rushed to the dance studio where my dance company has its residency, opened up (but didn’t turn on the electricity yet because = pandemic hits), and met my Rehearsal Director to work with her for an hour, ensuring she knows the choreography for the day.

      After, I met with our sister dance company (one of the branches of the creative tree, if you will) called ComeBacks, which is a [newly digital] dance company for the chronically ill. My co-director is an Occupational Therapist out of Boston, and we Zoom in for some therapy time and a lot of dance (1 hour and 1/2) with the group. One of our dancers announced that she’s newly engaged and asked her “dance family” to be part of a digital wedding dance creation in the near future, and I nearly started crying. It’s amazing to me that we could all live so far apart and be so newly-back-from-the-plague, and still be bonding to this level. This is exactly the goal of ComeBacks, and whenever it’s achieved… it feels utterly surreal.

      After the nearly 3 hours of prep time and ComeBacks completed, the differing pods of my dance company, Company 360, arrive, and in-person work begins. By the end of yesterday, I “danced” (albeit minimally since I’m only 5 weeks post back surgery) and was on my feet for over 7 hours, with (no exaggeration) zero breaks. I mean really… absolutely zero. Because of masks, I keep forgetting to eat anything (although I’m stuck having soft foods right now anyways). It’s so manic and I’m constantly talking and running logistics and making sure each pod gets in and out smoothly, that there is no time alone to pull down my mask and eat. Or run to the bathroom. Or really anything but be utterly present (which is honestly sort of freeing).

      All of which is to say: I. Am. Dead.

      I know that telling you – in possibly too much detail?- about my day wasn’t really what you signed up for here, but I have a few questions to ask inspired by this overshare in the days to come, as well as the following question for today:

      What is something difficult you faced down last week but achieved?

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