The Joy of Being Bad at Something

Returning to ballet has provided me with more than better posture

Monday morning. I’m sitting barefoot in a sun-soaked ballet studio at Sadler’s Wells East with a few dozen other adults on the first day of The Ballet Project, a weeklong ballet intensive designed for adults returning to ballet.

We start each day with a mindset session of journal prompts, and in those moments of what would become a transformative week for me, I felt my throat tighten with tears I refused to shed in a room full of strangers as I jotted down my response to the question “why did you come here?”.

Later that week, I texted my husband: “It’s so silly but there’s a part of me that kind of does wish I had pursued dancing professionally. I have no idea what that would look like now, but it’s just so joyful for me.” And he, loving me but also being a clear voice of reason, responded: “If you pursued it professionally, it’d be work and drama and pressure and stress. What you’re doing now is the best way to re-engage with dance for your mental well being. I remember how much you hated auditioning for acting after you graduated.”

And he’s right. I also remember what it was like when I was 19, 20 years old in New York City, submitting myself for auditions, failing again and again because (spoiler!) I wasn’t that great. Or maybe my heart wasn’t that into it. Likely both.

Ballet has come roaring back into my life this year in a way I never could have predicted.

I had no idea the sheer impact it would have on so many aspects: my hobbies, my time, my focus, my body, my mind, and even my career. I never thought of pursuing ballet professionally as a kid because I was so focused on being an actress, but now, pushing 40, dance has suddenly become a huge “if only” for me. If only I had trained harder. If only I hadn’t given up. If only I had focused more.

And yet.

The amount of work I would have to put in to genuinely become good and then great and then extraordinary enough to be a professional at this stage in my life would ultimately destroy the joy I feel now whenever I step into a studio. It’s the same reason I could never be a professional chef. The low-pressure, low-stakes aspect of cooking for myself is part of why I love it so much.

The Ballet Project was my first adult ballet intensive, and I think it’s absolutely remarkable that this is the one I stumbled upon first. I saw an Instagram ad for it a few months ago, and when I read more about it, I was desperate to attend. It’s not just ballet classes every day for five days. We did Pilates, floor barre (not what I thought it was, barre exercises lying down, but a completely transformative way to move my body), contemporary ballet (so freeing to dance steps I know but moving my body in new ways, and my favorite!), learned an entire dance as a group, and had a few brilliantly-led physio seminars about our feet, shoulder joints, and the mechanics of jumps. It was a week that blended all the best aspects of summer camp (making new friends!), a ballet intensive (hours of dance each day), and tailored to us adults with a science-backed focus to help us more deeply understand how our bodies are even able to do ballet.

I wrote down my corrections each day (shorten my fourth position for pirouette prep, ensure my standing foot is turned out during a promenade) like a diligent student, loathed any turn yet tried them anyway. My heart leapt with every allegro jump (grande, petite, I love it all), and the ecstatic flying motion of every tour jeté even if I didn’t always balance on the landing. I texted a friend about how much fun I was having dancing every day, despite the exhaustion, and how I couldn’t remember the last time I spent an entire week not to progress my career or improve a special skill, but purely because it makes my soul happy.

Because that’s what ballet has become for me: this thing (to call it a hobby feels too trite) that I do that, even though I’m not great at and do it imperfectly, brings me immense joy, play, happiness, escape.

When I’m dancing, I don’t think about anything else. It’s a rare thing to find an activity I can pursue imperfectly and still gain the mental and physical benefits from it. Ballet especially is viewed and presented as something that must be done “perfectly.” It’s traditional, hierarchical, body-punishing, and yet it’s where I’ve found permission to be bad at it, and feel ok at not being perfect. My feet are terrible, my turnout is barely scraping by, my arms constantly do their own thing without me, but the magic I feel is still there, always.

I’ve already written a little on how significant it was as well to connect with others during the week, but it’s worth repeating. All of us adults were there purely because we love to dance. I met only one girl who dreams of actively pursuing a professional ballet career (and she clearly was the best in class!), but the rest of us? Just there for a week for ourselves. No other agenda, no longterm plans to make ballet our vocation.

We were all there for the joy of it. And it’s something as adults that I think is sadly so rare. It’s an immense privilege to do, not only taking time off work but of course the financial commitment as well as the physical demands a week of dancing can take. But it really did remind me of what life should be about. What life is for.

I spend so much of my time alive pushing and pursuing and churning through each day without much thought.

Up at 5am, gym, work emails, grocery shopping, scrolling social media, TV. If I created a pie chart of my life, how much of it would be full of nonsense and bullshit, things I have to do just to stay alive in this capitalistic society? How much of that pie chart would consist of things and people that truly bring me joy? How many hours or even minutes of my day do I spend on things that make me happy?

A year ago, if someone had asked me what my ultimate dream life would look like, with no limitations, I probably would have said something like being a professional novelist and getting paid to write every day. Now? The writing passion is still there (clearly, or I would have abandoned this Substack ages ago), but I think I’d be more likely to say I’d want to be a professional ballet dancer. Even with all the hard work, the bloody toes, the injuries, the exhaustion. (To be fair, writing is no walk in the park either!) And that’s surprising to me. I never would have thought I’d have that fantasy.

Why did I come to The Ballet Project?

I came for all of the above reasons, for the joy and the escape and to do something for myself, but I know I also did it for my younger self who never believed she was good enough to pursue dancing professionally. I stopped dancing when I was younger only because I figured I wouldn’t miss it or need it. I was going to be an actor. The dancing was supplementary. And for most of the past 20 years without dancing, I didn’t notice it missing. It was like a color I didn’t think I needed, and when I discovered it again, lit up every color around it and opened my eyes to the full spectrum of my emotions. I came to The Ballet Project because the freedom of being bad at something while also experiencing joy is rare.

I still feel so precious about ballet. I’m determined to protect it in my life. To keep dancing, keep taking classes, find more intensives to go to, get better and stronger for myself, but maintaining this as playful and joyful as I can. It’s too important to risk ruining it with the reality of a profession. Let everything else be my career.

Ballet is purely for me.

Many thanks to Lisa, Chloe, the brilliant instructors, and my fellow attendees at The Ballet Project. I hope to see you all in January.

Listen to this: OK Go: And the Adjacent Possible This was my “listen on repeat in London so I always associate London with this album” track. “A Good, Good Day at Last” made me well up on more than one occasion.

Taste this: Lemon Shortbread Cookies by Cookie Dough Diaries. Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean we can’t have cookies.

Watch this: Principal Ballerina This is a short but powerful documentary on Melissa Hamilton, the first (Northern) Irish dancer to become a Principal at the Royal Ballet.

Make this: Painted Mason Jars I may or may not have a jar addiction (anyone else?) and this is a perfect way to use up some of those cluttering the cabinet.

Style this: Short kimono I have a newfound obsession: short floral kimonos used as a cardigan in summer months. It does still get a touch chilly here in Ireland, and this is an ideal solution for brisk mornings.

Read this: A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway Talk about finding and celebrating joy! If you haven’t read this gem on being an artist in Paris, please do.

Try this: What did you enjoy doing as a kid that you could pursue now? Even something like drawing, building a fort, making a sandcastle… We so rarely play as adults, and it’s such a shame. Be bad at something you used to be good at. Be bad at something you were never good at! No stakes, no pressure, just for the fun of it.