The World Health Organization recently analyzed research from over 900 global publications and concluded that engaging with the arts and culture can significantly benefit both mental and physical health.
I’m
reminded of an essay by Robert Fulghum, author of the book Everything I Really
Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, observing that if you ask a
classroom full of kindergarteners how many are singers, artists, and dancers – all hands shoot up!
Visit upper
grades and fewer and fewer hands go up until by high school very few students
will claim any artistic abilities. What if, as a gift to ourselves, we reclaimed
our love for and belief in our inner artist?
What if we
channeled our 5-year-old selves and sang, danced, drew, painted, and sculpted
without self-criticism. To do that we’d have to drown out not just criticism of
abilities but also ageist expectations. I’m sharing my story to illustrate what
I mean.
I Used to Be a Dancer
In my 20s
and 30s, I taught dance and co-directed and performed with a university dance
company. In my 30s, I became a mom and a published author and started a career
as a senior wellness consultant.
My life allowed
so little time for dancing that, when I eventually uttered, “I used to be a
dancer,” when chatting with a colleague, I felt actual pain as my kinship with
strength and grace and joyful movement fractured.
So, at age
48, with a “now-or-never” urgency, I leaped into a local dance performance. The
problem was, my mind lagged behind.
The Aging Myth
As a
heathy aging specialist, I fully understood the power of ageism to undermine
well-being, but professional knowledge failed to stop my subconscious “aging
scripts” from running the show.
Long story
short, my return to the stage failed. I learned the dances and went through the
motions; injured myself on dress rehearsal night and couldn’t perform. The
flood of disappointment was immediate, and then resignation swept in as strong and dangerous as an undertow – “I
used to be a dancer.”
Much
later, it hit me. I’d fallen prey to ageism. Even though I know that
inactivity – not age – causes the majority of functional loss, at the first signs of my
own physical decline I’d let the constant accusations linking age with decline sideline
me.
So, at age
52, a busy professional, wife, and mother of two, I found myself standing on
stage in a skimpy leotard, fishnet stockings and heels, seconds from performing
a Fosse dance piece (think the movie Chicago) with eight other dancers
ranging in age from 18-28.
But it
wasn’t an easy path. The physical retraining paled in comparison to what it
took to overcome both external aging stereotypes and internal beliefs.
Floor to Ceiling Mirrors and Indifference
Walking
into the dance studio was my first trial. Approaching dance like a work project,
I identified the resources I needed to be successful: strength, flexibility,
balance, and a good friend to confide my mission.
I was
stretching, doing cardio and strength training, and attending dance classes twice
per week. But surrounded by a roomful of dancers, none of them over 25, and not
one of them meeting my eye, I encountered an unexpected wall of indifference.
I had taught
dance 5 days a week for over 10 years, right in this studio, but none of these
dancers knew that! I was going to have to start at the bottom to earn my place.
Overcoming Challenges
My resolve
was tested continually: when I had to choose between attending a professional
conference and dancing; when I doubted my ability to choreograph a dance; when
my knee started to hurt; and when I started to feel anxious about performing.
I had been
one of the best dancers – could I stand average, or just being good “for my
age”? I had to make a conscious effort almost every day to override aging
stereotypes and self-doubt.
My knee hurts. Maybe I should stop. “Well, my knee hurt when I was a young dancer and off-and-on
through the years when I wasn’t dancing,” I would remind myself. Advil, ice,
stretch, strengthen, better warm-up.
I probably shouldn’t use that move; I could
hurt myself. Then, I’d counter, “Do I have the necessary strength,
flexibility, and balance? If so, get with it, if not, what can I do to gain
them?”
Reclaiming Joy
My inner
dialogue danced with class interactions. Gradually, some eye contact and
smiles, and more confidence and joy in movement, graced my hours at the studio.
When a dancer asked, “Can you show me that move?” I knew I’d graduated from being
a mere curiosity.
When I
regressed to the attitude of doing well enough “not to embarrass myself,” my
friend Toby challenged my thinking then drove seven hours to be with me the
week of the show.
Curtain
up, lights on cue, music – friends,
husband, and kids in the audience – what a rush! The piece was good. I was
good. And the experience was life affirming.
Fast Forward 8 Years
I’ve since
danced in every yearly show, and, as a 60th birthday present to
myself, choreographed and performed a physically challenging piece to Aretha
Franklin’s classic song, “Rock Steady.” And here’s the deal – I was stronger,
leaner, and more flexible at age 60 than I was at age 52.
I’m
sharing the video to Rock Steady (I’m center stage – long hair); not as
a “Yay me, look at what I can do,” but as a YAY, YOU – what can you do?
What artistic
activity have you given up that you used to love to do? What steps could you
take to reclaim it? Is there a form of art you have always wanted to embrace? If
not now, when? Please share with our community!
