Rising

Lately I've been doing daily stretch and strengthen exercises, mostly cobbled from dance classes over the years... my favourite and most influential teacher was always on the cutting edge of strength and conditioning programs to keep her dancers safe. She regularly set aside 15-30 minutes either at the beginning or the end of each class for strengthening exercises.

I had made many of these stretches part of my daily routine for several years in college, however, when I moved back to Alberta, depressed and thoroughly burnt out, everything went out the window except laying in bed until the afternoon sun covered me as well as the blankets. Then came the major life change called marriage (nobody tells you how STRESSFUL that is) and my first full-time job since before college, both of which sapped my energy and motivation to do literally anything. It was all I could do to go to work, make it through the day, and stagger back home and stare blankly at the television screen or my phone until bedtime.

Lately I've had some motivation returning, and I decided to bring back my daily stretches. This was also partly out of necessity, as my ankle is very angry at being made to stand on a concrete floor for 32 hours a week, no matter HOW good my shoes are, and is requiring either physio or total bedrest. Obviously physio is the option that keeps the bills paid, and many of the exercises that the doctor gave me are exactly the same ones that my dance teacher made us do years ago in class. This, then, leads quite naturally into the re-instation of a daily stretching program.

The most basic and most effective ankle strengthening exercise (as far as I know) is what we in ballet class call the rise. Rises on two feet and rises on one foot could take up as much as 45 minutes of class time -- different amounts, different combinations, different speeds. Students from our school were known locally for their incredible strength and confidence en pointe simply because we had so much ankle training in class. Once I fell off pointe (at a different school, after this one), and while I nearly broke my wrist, my ankles were completely unscathed (well, maybe not completely, otherwise I wouldn't need the physio now).

Rises, then, are the core of my strengthening exercises. I have sort of accidentally claimed a specific spot by the big picture window in the living room as the spot to do my exercises. On my days off, I typically do my exercises in the morning, so then the late morning winter light lies pale along the snow-lined road, reminding me of more carefree days gone by... the days when I would go to morning dance classes and do rises in classes with M, my sister, and other friends with whom I've more or less lost touch, with the calm, caring spirit of my teacher filling the room.

I would give almost anything in the world to have those days back. Of course I savoured them as much as I could while I was there -- knowing even at that young age how fleeting life is -- but I still somehow thought that it would never end, at least not completely. I thought that M would live a good long life and that my friends would stay in touch and that that school would continue turning out well-trained and deeply nurtured students for generations and that no matter how far away I traveled or for how long, I would always have a place at the barre in the sunlight.

Doing rises in front of that picture window takes me back to those days in the tiniest of ways -- strongly enough to bring tears to my eyes, but never strongly enough to be real. It breaks my heart every morning when I do rises, but I would rather remember those days than forget them. All I can do now is carry M and the spirit of my teacher and the school she gave to us for that short time in my heart and keep doing the rises that keep us connected.

Hopeless

I spent $100 on groceries today.

You know what I got?

Apples, onions, liver (the cheapest protein available), milk, yogurt, granola, bread, and cheese. The only reason it will feed us until next paycheque is because we already have some hamburger, noodles, and potatoes at home. And even then, my husband and I have both been going hungry. If I didn't work in a fast food establishment where we receive meal coupons, I wouldn't have had lunch at all last week.

I do not yet have gas in my van, and it's been at empty for a week. I walk to work, but I still need the van for going across town for errands.

I had been hoping to set aside $100 in savings this paycheque. Just a hundred dollars. Most of that went into the groceries just now.

We want to move to a town that's less in the middle of nowhere. I have absolutely zero support system here outside of my husband, and he's not well enough to support me alone. I'm trying so hard to be strong for him, but I look at the bank account and I look at our cupboards and I look for support and I'm burning out at work and I can't see any hope anywhere.

We're both pulling in pretty close to full-time income each, in a province with a $15/hr minimum wage -- which, we're told, is scandalously high. And that is not enough to keep two adult humans adequately fed and put even a quarter tank of gas in their vehicle. If my husband's benefits didn't cover 90% of our meds, we would be dead now.

Maybe it would be better for us if we were.

Music Day - Reality

Like any good Christian '90s kid, I grew up on a steady diet of Newsboys, Audio Adrenaline, and dc Talk on the radio (you know, back when 'Christian radio' was at least palatable). The thing is, when you grow up surrounded by something, you trade freshness for nostalgia.

This song was ubiquitous in my early childhood circles (so, church and home), to the point it was just part of the landscape, part of the air I breathed as a six-year-old. I was barely aware that I even knew of this song until over ten years later when I bought a Newsboys greatest hits album after attending one of their concerts on a whim. Even then, this song remained background noise -- just part of the culture that I still had one foot in.

The other day, though, I suddenly remembered the Newsboys existed and played this album off the cuff. This song stood out to me.

It's little secret that I've lived my life so far in a way very similar to the runaway in the song -- constantly out of money, constantly traveling/moving around and involved in odd-sounding activities that concern the people who feel some obligation to show concern for my well-being. Even in this song, the protagonist has performing arts-based aspirations and admits to being malnourished -- these could be subplots taken directly from my own story.

Runaway

Where's your head

Dreamers' dreams

Are grounded

In reality that comes from above

In this simple lead-in to the chorus that takes all of ten seconds, Steve Taylor deftly sneaks in a very powerful truth that we often forget -- the same God who created our dreams also created reality. Christians especially tend to think that dreams and reality are two separate (and mutually exclusive) things, and rarely (if ever) stop to realise that God is in charge of both. The same God who created the runaway dreamer created the reality around them, and therefore the dream will only make sense in God's timing.

This is something I've been pondering a lot for myself lately. I started exploring that in my Desert Rose post from a few weeks ago, and I feel this song continues the thought. For my entire life I've been pushing for more experience, more practice, more education, more opportunities for my art. And those aren't necessarily bad things -- in fact, personal development in the area of one's calling is the best way to make the most of the gift you've been entrusted with when it's really time to shine. But I was starting to get frustrated with how little was happening -- why I was still languishing in the back of the ensemble despite 97% of the directors I've worked with noting both my skill and my ability to learn things accurately and quickly (which is almost more important than pre-existing skill) -- why I'm living in a tiny dying town in the literal middle of nowhere with very few opportunities to practice, let alone learn more. I had worked so hard and invested so much, and none of it seemed to amount to anything. It was like my gift was being wasted. And my increasing age was only fueling the fire of frustration.

At the time I wrote the Desert Rose post, I prayed that if God really wanted me to be an artist; if He had truly called me to be a dancer, that He would provide opportunities, because I sure as heck wasn't finding any. For perhaps the first time in my life, I stopped trying to make stuff happen. I was just too worn out to do it anymore.

Last week a prominent figure in the tap dancing world who I auditioned for exactly once two and a half years ago messaged me completely out of nowhere saying she was just starting up a Zoom class that would be right around my level (based on what she was seeing on my Instagram) and would I be interested? She even readily negotiated a payment plan that worked for us. My husband agreed immediately. I don't even have to pay gas money to drive two hours to the nearest class -- all I'm paying is the tuition. This is exactly the kind of opportunity I've always dreamed of but either was too far away or didn't have a consistent enough income to support it.

Perhaps the reality is that I am called to dance after all... but I had to live in the reality that comes from above.

Now for the song itself.

The Newsboys' glory years were marked by a brightness in the drums and a freshness in the bass paired with melodies just catchy enough to be fun and not annoying. The Australian accents and Steve Taylor's unique (and brilliant) approach to song lyrics didn't hurt anything either.

For this song, Taylor and Furler peek into the letters of a runaway sending letters home to their parents, attempting to soothe their fears (read: keep them off their back) while subtly asking for money to fund their sketchy-sounding exploits (they may or may not have quite literally joined the circus). The thing with Steve Taylor's writing is it's almost funnier to read the lyrics in the liner notes than it is to hear them in the song. I'm very willing to bet that nobody else could write a serious song about God's timing and guidance and include lines like lent the money you sent me to the clown with the knife or could you find a better photo for the milk carton backs? and make it work. The pair also prominently features a line ripped directly old of a Baptist hymnal -- trust and obey; there is no other way (the hymn continues 'to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey'), mostly because it supports their point, but no doubt the chance to annoy all the anti-rhythm-section Baptists was a clincher. And I am very certain that no other band could have managed to pull off this song with the right mix of light humour and serious exhortation -- too much seriousness and the brilliant writing would have fallen flat. Too much lightness and the point would be gone (which would also have been a disservice to the writers).

The song is almost surprisingly fast. One doesn't notice it really until they near the ending, when the chorus repeats. It's a testament to the band's skill that the listener doesn't feel 'rushed.'

Musically, this is Newsboys in their prime. This is the sound and styling that made them CCM superstars and cemented their legacy. This song was a mega-hit in CCM in the mid/late-'90s, and it was still second to Breakfast, which appeared on the same album and may very well be the most well-known Newsboys song of all time (also probably holds the world record for 'most breakfast puns in one song'). It also features Taylor/Newsboys' trademark clapping section (this time a nearly a cappella repeat of the chorus accompanied only by clapping the rhythm).

Title: Reality

Artist: Newsboys

Album: Take Me To Your Leader

Year: 1996

iTunes here; YouTube here.

In the reality that comes from above

God is calling -- there's no greater love

It's His reality that welcomes us back...