The Importance of Problems
I was a dancer. One of the best. Freedom of movement harmonized and tempered with rhythm; this was my ecstasy. There was a teacher in my novice years, Miss Margot. She was very unorthodox in her approach and at the start of my time with her I can say that i had some difficulty.. "cultivating" the proper tastes that would allow me to not only fully grasp her teachings, but to find bliss in them. She was beautiful, but harsh. Now, usually harsh women are terribly ugly, no matter how beautiful they may be but Miss Margot's verocity, her punishing eyes.. they seemed to only add to her physical pleasantness. Deep amber skin with honey eyes topped with hawkish brows crooked into high, judgemental archs. Her head crowned with dark satin waves, large and defined legs only those that could be made for and by a dancer. She was both pleasurable and punishing to behold. My third day in her class was the first day she looked at me. I was turned to stone, even to recieve the grace of her observance was enough to make my heart race with exaltation.
"The Importance of Problems. Problem are the heart of all existence. For without problems there would be no solutions. For without problems there would be no purpose. For without problems there would be no life. For life itself is based in and on problems. It is based on problems and finding solutions to those problems. This is the core theme of all dance and of all art. Dancing is nothing more than solving complex problems in real time. Problems procured by the music. To dance is to solve music with the body. Learning how to understand the problems a piece produces is the first step in the long and tedious career of a dancer. Tempering the body to allow for unhibited, continuous expression is the second ideal of the dancer.." Margot would lecture on like this for some time. I sat erect and rapt. Consuming and living on every word she spoke. I loved her. But at the time, only ten or eleven years of age, I could not fully comprehend the extent and vitality of my love for her. But I knew when she looked at me that very first time that she loved me to, even in my young, unlearned heart, I knew in some intuitive sense that she loved me as I loved her. Something soft came over her face when she lay her eyes on me, it was as if her whole life had been a problem and when she finally saw me, she had found her solution.