On: Suppressing Ego + Controlling Karma

I was reprimanded in rehearsal last week. For being scatter brained. My explanation, if I weren't too chicken to talk back:

I'm working on my first residency. In a week's time, I've done everything wrong and for a moment I felt like I'd set myself up as the big fat joke of the bunch; the "late one", the "slow one", the "one to roll your eyes at". There have been so many challenges for me to work out since I began this project and the one that's been the hardest for me is suppressing my own ego. It was instinctual for me to believe that the choreographer had it out for me and that I wasn't good enough for the work or that I'm marked for suffering and I have a right to be bitter all the time.

In reality, in the grand scheme of things, I'm just a speck of sand in a maestro's sandbox. We are a orchestra, cast and crew of nearly 100over 175 for two separate operas that both need to be choreographed, staged, and well rehearsed in just two weeks. Where I am placed in a sequence or on the stage is more a matter of the director's whim and my sheer luck than one of my talent. My sister said it best: I have no reason to prove myself; I'm already here. I just need to do my best work and be grateful for the opportunity to do so. While spending so much energy analyzing the other dancers' body language or the choreographer's offbeat comments, wondering how everyone remembered the choreography so well or why she got cast as such and such instead of me, I was doing myself a disservice. I could have put all that concentration into learning my roles and perfecting my craft.

This week is better. I'm happier this week. Now that I've more or less gotten over myself, I want to work on my good-sportsmanship. I'm good at fighting the urge to hate on people... sometimes... most of the time, what I'm terrible at is expressing sympathy when my hateration translates into someone else's bad karma (ie: self-entitled diva loses leading role to snarky mini diva; huge chunk of choreography gets cut by director while choreographer helplessly looks on; borderline dits just getting by on her dewy-eyed looks removed from dance for lack of talent). I should feel compassion. I'm trying to put myself in their shoes. Karma (or my nascent telepathic sense) is a bitch.

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