Prisoner Of Her Passion

I saw an interview in a magazine today, with a ballet dancer from New York. Beyond doubt, a a) dancer who lives in b) New York must be the coolest person in the world! Yet she said:
   "I wouldn't want for my children to become dancers. It's too hard. Every day, you have to face yourself  in  the mirror; you can't concentrate on what is good, only on what's bad, the mistakes. And perfection won't ever be achieved.
I love dancing, and I hate it. I suppose I love it more than I hate it, or else I would have stopped dancing until now."

Hello sister! (even if being a ballet dancer is in my opinion much harder than being a jazz  student!) The piano is my passion, yet there is sometimes such a thin line between, let's just say, happiness and anger. People often tell me how great it is that I can pursue my passion, and I wholeheartedly agree! But (as it is with any other occupation) there are very mixed emotions involved.

I love and hate it basically for the same reason. I love that a part of my life will never be over or finished, there will always be music to listen to, people to find out about, and technique to be learnt. And with a constant anger underneath I also hate it: there will always be this striving, always people who play better, write better, and I hate that it won't ever be over, ever. And I hate that I dedicate myself to a "nothingness", and I love that I chose a discipline to dig deep into. And I hate the very practical aspect about it: if you don't practise, you lose your abilities very quickly, you snooze you lose, and I love the feeling of achievement after practising, and I hate to do something useless, and I love the freedom it gives me.

I don't mean to lament. It comes with the deal. But it's great to know that other people have thoughts like that. This is how Inna, the ballet dancer from New York, concluded the interview:

  "I don't know what comes after death, but there has to be something. I just hope I won't have to dance any more!"