The Things We Left Behind...

I just assembled my new digital camera, so I will post pictures of my room and Duke very soon. Don't worry, friends! To give you a sneak peek, this is a photograph that is hung in my room, which has a story (well, actually two) behind it.

The studio where I danced through middle school and highschool had this photograph hanging in the bathroom/changing room. Thus, my first memories of this Harvey Edwards print were intertwined with the rush of changing into black leotards, pink tights, and a colored waistband (which indicated your Level). But it's also reminiscent of the countless hours I spent in the small square-footage of that studio, learning, rehearsing and practicing for the cherished Christmastime classic, the Nutcracker. So when a framed enlargement of this picture materialized in the dance studio at the program where I worked this summer, I was no less than ecstatic. Yes, my enthusiasm may have elicited a confused look from my co-teacher - his brow quizzical for only moments before attributing it to my inherent idiosyncratic ways. Nonetheless, my excitement lasted for hours.

When I found this print at the poster sale outside the Bryant Center (the student center), it reminded me that things are not lost forever, or really ever lost at all. And no, I am not talking about the literal object of the photograph anymore. There are so many things in my life that I have considered "lost" during the past 3 years or so. Now that I am here, I see that there really is a chance to find them again. And I am trying to fearlessly take those chances, those opportunities and run with them before somebody tries to stop me...or more importantly, before I get in my own way.

I have told so many of you how incredibly happy I am here and this pure joy has been hard for me to accurately describe. It stems not from a grandeur of deluxe services here at Duke (though those do exist) or from a posse of sorority sisters (haha...not really!), but being in a place where people love life, hate the Tar Heels, and are really amazing (but still NICE) people. I know it's still unsatisfactory, but that's the best I got. Why don't you just come see for yourselves? I've got a cozy spot on my rug for you...

I'm discovering that I actually can be the person I want to be and I can do the things that I kept telling myself I couldn't. Made it this far, didn't I?

Like last night, for example. I showed up to the audition for a Ballet Repertory class 30 minutes early and while I was busy taping up blisters that had violently ripped open during an African dance class, I overheard the girls next to me: "I think this is on pointe, right?"

Uhhhhhhh, WHAT?? Let's review: Lindsay stopped doing pointe after sophomore year in highschool. She took a weekly beginning pointe class for fun at Jose Mateo's during freshman year in college. But really it's been about FOUR years since she has considered herself "on pointe." Ok, end of review. I briefly considered fleeing the scene, but after that gut response was expressed I decided to stay. I did the audition...and pretty freaking well, all things (including my blisters) considered.

And I got in. Which I am (to reuse a word from earlier in this post) ecstatic about. All this to say, most things are never truly lost. Who I was as at 3, 12, 16 and even 19 can still be a part of me - if I choose that.

Isn't it invaluable to be able to hold onto the best (and sometimes worst) parts of our 3-year-old selves?

(The title of this post if a chapter heading from Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible. I highly recommend reading it.)