Sleeping Beauty

In the midst of the drama of my own

blogged about life,

a few weeks ago,

I saw my first ballet

to celebrate my friend's wedding

that

I attended last weekend.

*

When the curtain began to rise

and

the dancers appeared,

I found myself thinking of Ngaio Marsh

and the novel about her detective

seeing a play where the murder in the play

actually happens.

Marsh's description of the players in the back of my mind,

I began to watch the ballet...

It was very beautiful,

perfect in timing, in the use of props, the costumes.

The sense of a former time created through

this art

was wonderful to behold.

I was surprised at how you can hear the feet tapping when the

ballerinas are dancing en pointe.

I could not help wondering about the lives of the dancers

when they are off stage.

My sense is that their world must be very pressurized,

with very long practice periods

and working with each other to create beautiful art

on stage.

The need for perfection on stage

I imagine is very intense.

Any misstep on stage must be gut-wrenching

to the dancer.

I was also struck by how traditional

this ballet was,

and the juxtaposition of living in downtown Ottawa

where gender and politics go hand in hand.

*

Needless to say,

it was very beautiful and I wished the world of

Sleeping Beauty

was more with us.