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Hello you!
When I heard the music I knew I was in the right place. I was home. The noises of the city that filled my head melted away and the familiarity of the soft piano penetrated my body. My breathing that had been so fast from rushing to arrive on time slowed and I felt safe.
What feeds our soul can act as a red thread throughout our lives. These things can ground us when we need them to and take us on new adventures when we least expect it. Our love for what feeds our soul is always there, beating away in the back of our hearts. What we truly love once I believe we love forever.
Ballet came into my life through my grandparents. My nan used to tell me stories about the days when she’d stretch her leg vertically against the wall. Every year both she and my grandad would take me to the ballet at our local theatre. I loved these nights because it was something they only did with me. It made me feel special and it was a love we shared.
When I was very little I went to ballet once but I had so much separation anxiety from my mum I cried the whole time and she felt too guilty to take me back again. When I dance ballet now I like to think I’m doing it for little Jess, giving her something she missed out on. It feels important to point out I’m not a naturally graceful person, I’ve been told more than one that I’m actually heavy on my feet - but I don’t let that stop me from enjoying what I love. I’m not there to dance perfectly, I’m there to enjoy it.
When I got divorced I wanted to start doing things for myself, things I’d always wanted to do but maybe felt had passed me by in terms of time. I found an adult beginners ballet class and signed up to a full term of lessons. Every Tuesday evening I’d drive to the dance studio and love every single minute. It was at this ballet class when the idea to go to Paris came to me. It was so clear, so simple and felt so right. When I followed through on this idea and came to Paris for a month I went to the ballet and cried the whole way through. I thought about how my nan who now has dementia would love it, how impressed my Grandad would be with the masterpiece that is the Palais Garnier and how he’d want to touch everything he saw. This summer, when I was building my life here in Paris the first thing I looked for was a ballet class and now it’s a highlight of my week.
We’re encouraged to have hobbies as children, try everything and find something we enjoy. This is all acceptable behaviour, admirable even, until it’s time for us to get a proper job and enter the adult world. At this point we’re encouraged to work as hard as possible, earn as much as we can and find a partner to settle down with before we have children. Our soulful passions are expected to fall away, because we no longer have time for them.
I don’t believe in this way of living. I think what we love and what feeds us should be woven into our lives until the very end. These are the things that make us who we are, act as a channel to our true selves and always help us find our way home. I don’t think it’s possible to outgrow what we love and any attempt to make us feel that way comes from a lack of self-love, whether that’s our own lack or someone else’s being projected onto us. What feeds our soul keeps us alive but it’s up to us to nurture our relationship with it, to feed it with the time and space it requires so it can continue to thrive.
Ballet class is taken much more seriously in Paris than back home in the north of England. Of course it is. The women dress up, the teachers look like they’ve just come off stage at Opera Garnier and I love them for it. I’ve never felt intimidated by this, only excited. I’m excited to be surrounded by others who love what I love and allow themselves to love it so freely. It makes me want to allow myself to love it even more. As a result I work harder in class, wear outfits I was always a little too embarrassed to wear back home and my legs are not only getting straighter but higher. When I can’t keep up I laugh, when I don’t understand what the teachers are saying I laugh. We all laugh together.
When I leave ballet class I feel more myself. The same kind of self I feel when I used to finish a really good horse riding lesson. I’ve spent an hour in flow doing what I love, I’ve worked towards improvement no matter how small, I’ve taken myself seriously and I’ve been surrounded by what’s familiar to me. If that isn’t worth making time for I don’t know what is. I had a moment of synchronicity this week during a barre exercise. I remembered so clearly the moment when the idea to come to Paris wormed its way inside my head, and now here I was dancing in exactly the same way exactly where I had been inspired to go. This is what following what feeds your soul can do for you. And how exhilarating it feels to have trusted, felt the fear and done it anyway. We are the captains of our own ship, we get to choose, we get to steer and while we can go off course or run into a few storms we must never let the pirates take us over.
What feeds your soul? I’m wondering what you fell in love with as a child and why, what it means to you. Do you still make room for it in your life now you’re in charge of your own schedule? I’m wondering if there’s something you’ve always wanted to try but never have. I’m giving you a nudge to do it, to keep it close and keep it safe. I promise you won’t regret it.
Lots of love
Jessica xxx
Today is also the last day my step by step simple living ebooks are half price. You can find out more about them, read the reviews and download your copies here. Happy simplifying!
Your letter has blessed my heart. Thank you, at 72 I’m taking up oil painting, something I’ve longed to do since my youth. You have greatly encouraged me. God bless you Jessica Ballerina ♥️
Well those are great questions Jessica, I feel quite emotional about it. I had to think about it for quite some time, and that alone made me realise I have completely lost my sense of doing things “that feed my soul”. But finally I remembered. It was reading and writing (in Dutch though, my mother tongue ;)). But I stopped doing it because it made me feel so sad. I don’t even know exactly why! Nevertheless I bought the prettiest notebook I could find, I dusted off my really old and treasured fountain pain and I am determined to find out why I lost the pleasure in doing those things and if I can write “through” it.
I’ve been thinking about my word for 2024 and nothing felt quite right. “Feeding my soul” however feels like the phrase I need for the next year. Thank you ❤️🩹