At A Ballet
The theatre is completely dark, save for the faint red glow of the exit signs. The atmosphere of expectation and excitement makes all distractions easy to ignore. I've just marveled at three enchanting ballet routines, and now one remains. It's the pause before the final dance.
With a squeak, the curtain rises, and we all unconsciously hold our breath. The big, round spotlight that has illuminated the ballerinas' movements in the previous dances is gone. Now just two soft lights shine on the stage, casting snowflake-like patterns on the wood floor.
The music starts. Melancholy and moving, the strings rise and swell. Then, with simple beauty, a piano melody begins. In seconds, the song touches some place deep inside my heart and draws out a deep sense of longing, for what, I'm not sure. But it seems no one in the theatre can look away from the stage.
And at last, the dancers. A man and woman, young and graceful. Spinning and tiptoeing across the stage, mirroring each other perfectly, they begin to tell a story of love, pure and stunning. They are joined by another couple, who soon takes center stage, dancing perhaps even more beautifully. Then two more emerge from offstage, all dancing in and out of shadows and light.
Soon there are four pairs of lovely, captivating dancers, each depicting incredibly emotional stories of romance, devotion, and tenderness. The song builds and the stage is alive with movement. One man spins his partner around and around, her toes barely touching the ground. The second couple pirouettes, legs and arms and bodies in perfect reflection. Another couple embraces in the center. Another dancer lifts and lowers his partner gently, over and over, as if she weighs no more than a tiny ballerina in a music box. Now they are all in a line, each man spinning the woman out in perfect time with the piano notes that climb up a scale.
There is so much, my eyes can't find a landing spot. And they don't want to. They flit back and forth between the dancers, fixated, completely awed by the dancers' grace, strength and passion. The music swells throughout the room, from the tall rounded ceiling to the carpeted floor. Through my chest, through my heart. Chills crawl over my skin, and as the music and the dance goes on and on, I blink away tears.
The song keeps going, for minute after minute, and I never want it to end. The ballet dancers jump and twirl and slide and turn across the stage. I marvel at how anything can be so absolutely beautiful. How a ballet dance can so convincingly make me feel as if I'm not in this chair or this balcony at all, but rather am swept up in a captivating romance.
The music grows softer. The ballet dancers slow. The violins fade till nothing but the dying notes of the piano echo out and the dancers fall into their final pose. The lights dim. It's over.
The theatre erupts into cheers and applause. A standing ovation goes without saying. We are all in complete awe. The breath that I feel like I've held in my lungs for the last seventeen minutes leaves in a whoosh. My dad and I look at each other, both exclaiming, "That was so beautiful!" In fact, everyone around us seems to be saying the same thing to each other.
As we walk out of the theatre, to the car and begin to drive home, my dad and I are both past the point of words. Except for the constant repetition of "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful!" Finally, we both just sit there, willing the song to stay in our ears and the dance to stay in our minds.
And I can't help but think, how can this be so beautiful? How can bodies moving across a stage and instruments made out of wood and strings create feelings in people's souls? How can light and sound waves, so scientific and straightforward, affect our hearts so poignantly?
And there is only one answer. God. God is that beautiful. That creative. That breath-taking. And as I replay the tear evoking moment again and again, I am just stunned. Wide-eyed and speechless and in complete worship of a God who is the source of such divine power and beauty. And I thank him again and again for making us in His image, with the ability to compose, choreograph, play and dance. He allows us to do that. He wants us to do that. He longs for us to experience the joy and pride He felt when He created us. When He created life. That is just incredible to me.
Don't ever forget how beautiful God is. Don't ever think that He can only be worshiped inside a building with a steeple. Don't ever take for granted that He shares His infinite creativity with us. And don't ever forget that even the most perfect songs, dances and art created on earth are just a fraction of the heart of this God that created us.
Worship Him. Glorify Him. It doesn't matter where or how. Just adore Him.
With a squeak, the curtain rises, and we all unconsciously hold our breath. The big, round spotlight that has illuminated the ballerinas' movements in the previous dances is gone. Now just two soft lights shine on the stage, casting snowflake-like patterns on the wood floor.
The music starts. Melancholy and moving, the strings rise and swell. Then, with simple beauty, a piano melody begins. In seconds, the song touches some place deep inside my heart and draws out a deep sense of longing, for what, I'm not sure. But it seems no one in the theatre can look away from the stage.
And at last, the dancers. A man and woman, young and graceful. Spinning and tiptoeing across the stage, mirroring each other perfectly, they begin to tell a story of love, pure and stunning. They are joined by another couple, who soon takes center stage, dancing perhaps even more beautifully. Then two more emerge from offstage, all dancing in and out of shadows and light.
Soon there are four pairs of lovely, captivating dancers, each depicting incredibly emotional stories of romance, devotion, and tenderness. The song builds and the stage is alive with movement. One man spins his partner around and around, her toes barely touching the ground. The second couple pirouettes, legs and arms and bodies in perfect reflection. Another couple embraces in the center. Another dancer lifts and lowers his partner gently, over and over, as if she weighs no more than a tiny ballerina in a music box. Now they are all in a line, each man spinning the woman out in perfect time with the piano notes that climb up a scale.
There is so much, my eyes can't find a landing spot. And they don't want to. They flit back and forth between the dancers, fixated, completely awed by the dancers' grace, strength and passion. The music swells throughout the room, from the tall rounded ceiling to the carpeted floor. Through my chest, through my heart. Chills crawl over my skin, and as the music and the dance goes on and on, I blink away tears.
The song keeps going, for minute after minute, and I never want it to end. The ballet dancers jump and twirl and slide and turn across the stage. I marvel at how anything can be so absolutely beautiful. How a ballet dance can so convincingly make me feel as if I'm not in this chair or this balcony at all, but rather am swept up in a captivating romance.
The music grows softer. The ballet dancers slow. The violins fade till nothing but the dying notes of the piano echo out and the dancers fall into their final pose. The lights dim. It's over.
The theatre erupts into cheers and applause. A standing ovation goes without saying. We are all in complete awe. The breath that I feel like I've held in my lungs for the last seventeen minutes leaves in a whoosh. My dad and I look at each other, both exclaiming, "That was so beautiful!" In fact, everyone around us seems to be saying the same thing to each other.
As we walk out of the theatre, to the car and begin to drive home, my dad and I are both past the point of words. Except for the constant repetition of "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful!" Finally, we both just sit there, willing the song to stay in our ears and the dance to stay in our minds.
And I can't help but think, how can this be so beautiful? How can bodies moving across a stage and instruments made out of wood and strings create feelings in people's souls? How can light and sound waves, so scientific and straightforward, affect our hearts so poignantly?
And there is only one answer. God. God is that beautiful. That creative. That breath-taking. And as I replay the tear evoking moment again and again, I am just stunned. Wide-eyed and speechless and in complete worship of a God who is the source of such divine power and beauty. And I thank him again and again for making us in His image, with the ability to compose, choreograph, play and dance. He allows us to do that. He wants us to do that. He longs for us to experience the joy and pride He felt when He created us. When He created life. That is just incredible to me.
Don't ever forget how beautiful God is. Don't ever think that He can only be worshiped inside a building with a steeple. Don't ever take for granted that He shares His infinite creativity with us. And don't ever forget that even the most perfect songs, dances and art created on earth are just a fraction of the heart of this God that created us.
Worship Him. Glorify Him. It doesn't matter where or how. Just adore Him.
Comments
Post a Comment