Peculiar Snapshots

I danced as Coppelia when I was sixteen. Like a superpower caught in a snapshot for Peculiar Children, this was mine. It’s not that I danced better than anyone else—it was that I was a wallflower, pulled from the dry wall, painted in bright color and set on the stage to tell a story. 11143277_10208165340716673_1456411550739629151_nPeculiarly, ballet made me bold like nothing else did. I even pressed a curve into my flat feet when I rose to my satin pointes.
Maybe landing the role despite my oddities was God saying, “all you need is to be willing. I’ll bring the magic.”
What makes you bold?
Feel free to share any peculiar snapshots of yourself in the comments.

How to Make Art

I adore So You Think You Can Dance. It’s what’s on my TV when I need a night off, spilling out art and joy and pain like we all need to live it.

My own background in ballet and squishing my toes into blood-stained pointe shoes is nothing compared to the level of awesomeness I see as each dancer takes their turn pouring their hearts onto the stage. I didn’t have the level of training, or the right kind of feet to take it to a professional level, but I can understand their journey as another kind of artist–pain and rejection included–and whatever you do can be found in the dancer’s process. I urge you to watch at least one show (One of my favorites).

A dancer’s body is incredibly strong—bending and lifting for hours on end to make art out of movement– working every muscle, demanding the depth of every emotion, and peeling away deposits of ordinary.100_2831
When a dancer gets cut, I sympathize with them, but I also know that a necessary layer has just been peeled away. They are given the opportunity to be better, and the most dedicated dancers return the next year, renewed and full of fire—all due to a good dose of constructive criticism.

This is the Refiner’s fire uncovering the pearl inside the oyster, the hot fudge waiting at the bottom of the sundae.

Rejection hurts, it can be embarrassing, especially when you’ve done your best, but it opens your eyes—you can be better than your best. You can be awesome, and as long as you stay humble enough to recognize the potential to improve, awesomeness has no limits.


Do you have your own story to tell about rising from rejection? Tell us in the comments.