Is this a permanent shift or just a passing phase?
Why am I growing out of things—choreographies, friendships—I once loved? Or at least, things I pursued with such sincerity and discipline?
Once you lose faith, it's incredibly hard to put up the "performance." At least for me, when it comes to friendships or situations, I’m quite clear—almost blunt—about stepping away when needed. Or I know it is a phase and I can always find my way back. I also don't force any relationship to stay (now); it takes its own course either to blossom or fade away. But with dance, it's different.
Items that once won me accolades… choreographies I invested time, money, and heart into—I now struggle to reuse them. The excitement is missing. And yet, I can't simply discard them. I’m trying to re-choreograph, retry, reimagine. But it’s mentally exhausting.
Is this confusion due to a lack of clarity? Or is it growth? Growth in awareness, in taste, in sensibility?
When I ChatGPT-ed the question (yes, that’s a verb now), it gave me a thoughtful—albeit borrowed—answer:
“As a dancer growing out of old choreography, the key is to embrace change and evolution. This means developing new skills, exploring different styles, and expanding your creative horizons. You should actively seek new challenges, refine your foundational techniques, and find inspiration in diverse sources to fuel your artistic growth.”
Maybe that’s what this is—growth, disguised as discomfort.
As a person, I’m constantly evolving—through pain, healing, and learning. What once resonated with me may no longer align with who I am today.
With dance, the shift feels even more personal. What I once loved might not excite me anymore, simply because my artistic language has changed. What I now appreciate in a choreography is deeper, more nuanced, more rooted.
I’m beginning to understand that letting go—or reshaping—isn’t a loss. It’s a quiet step toward becoming more authentic.That’s when I began thinking about the legends who created enduring choreographies—like Sri Kelucharan Mohapatra and Sri Vempati Chinna Satyam. How did they create works that remain relevant and powerful, that still stir something in me even today, after practicing and performing them hundreds of times? What was their thought process like? How did they stay so steady in their vision without wavering?
Is it pure genius—or is it cultivated through relentless practice?
I’m equally amazed and in awe of my guru, Sri Jaikishore Mosalikanti—his clarity, his vision, the precision he seeks. How is he so unwavering in what he wants? Maybe I should ask him this very question.
I’m sure they evolved as individuals, changed with time. But somehow, their choreographies still feel timeless. Or perhaps, their struggles are simply unseen. That also reminds me of Albert Einstein's quote "Creativity is intelligence having fun". I can only hope and strive to come close to such intelligence, convince myself (the biggest challenge) in creating something and remind myself that "change is the only constant" and to not to beat myself too much!
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