Photo by Sharon Quinn
“Soy lo que bailo*” — I am what I dance.
I have danced in studios from coast to coast and country to country. I danced Saidi in Japan, I spun canes in Spain, I choreographed with girls in Canada. My body and mind broke down together in a studio in San Jose, I slept cheek to cheek with the studio floor in the heart of San Francisco, I became divinely inebriated in Sacramento.
Through the red, pulsating, intolerable haze of frustration, the true meaning of “patience” dawned on me in a New York studio; I saw the living embodiment of the word “dedication” as it related to training and persistence while watching my teacher in Vancouver.
I realized the inadequacy of the word “depression” in some and felt a sense of elation that defies description in many.
I have danced on stages. I have performed for audiences in the hundreds and sometimes for no one at all. One stage saw me become an alcoholic writer, another saw me wear masks — both literal and figurative — to play the Hindu goddess Kali. I have been a snake, a man, a flapper, a monster, a whore.
I have dragged my anger and my frustration onstage and subjugated it into my dance. I have let my energy, love, and excitement ooze out of my pores, feeling it multiply ten-fold the more of it I give in sacrifice to my audience. On other stages it took every wile and ounce of self-manipulation I possessed to convince myself that yes, Megan, you deserved this opportunity to dance, no, you didn’t have a choice in the matter, and now would you please take your damn place on the floor and wait for your music to start?
I have met someone’s eyes when I danced and realized that I was about to take my place in wonderful and terrible difficult love story, and that my part was already written. I have choreographed pieces about falling out of love before I realized my unconscious cast me in the lead role for a reason.
I took risks on some stages; some I played it safe. I have left everything I had on same stages and have taken regret with me off of others. I have sacrificed my blood, sweat, and tears; I’ve broken up with boyfriends and mentors before ending my love affair with dance. I’m a failure and a success story rolled into one slightly crazy, often too imaginative main character. Hi, I’m Megan, and I’m an addict… the problem is just that my addiction is also my salvation.
I have felt the music pull me onto me feet, my toes in the grass under a patchwork tent; I have danced lit only by the dim glow of the stars. I have felt tears run down my face and bump into my smile, I danced with the divine. I have danced in hallways, on rooftops, in kitchens, in hotel rooms, on beds. I have danced in on a bus, in a car, standing up and sitting down. I dance in my seat, I dance in my head…
My life is continuous movement, perpetual growth, and pursuing expansion.
“Soy lo que bailo*” — I am what I dance.
*Quote from Maria Pages
Starving Artistry 