So one of the big things that I have had a hang up over is the P-word.  At what point have I earned the right to use it?  Will people judge me for using it too soon, or too late?  Will someone call me a liar?  Will I get stones thrown at me and chased out of town?

Yes, the P-word has a lot of emotion attached to it.

The P-word is <shudder> ‘Professional’.

Well, I figured that one reasonable marker was that once I’d been paid to work in dance then I could use it.  Except I’ve been paid to teach a number of times before now and I still didn’t feel I could use it.

I got as far as semi-professional, or even part-time-professional (I know, I’m totally making these up – that’s what crazy does to you), but mostly not out loud to other people, just as a label for myself in my head.

Note to self: labels are not that useful unless being used to provide simplified ways for people to understand something quickly.  In your head they just mess you up!

The good news

Cause I like to try and end my posts on an uplifting note, if only for my own sanity.

I recently had the privilege to work with a group of students of varied ages and dance experience.  For two sessions of 3 hours.  I don’t remember being happier, and there was a big part of the final ‘click’ that started to break open the mess around the P-word.  Note I said “started”, I’m still calling the P-word after all.

At the end of the first session I realised I had hit what I termed the ‘holy triumvirate’ of career path hunting:

• I liked it
• I was good at it
• Someone was willing to pay me to do it

The first one was easy to spot – I was bouncing around the place, chattering my head off or simply dancing around in the space enjoying moving.

The second one came later when I realised that I had real ideas and experiences to share when asked questions or facing problems.  I’m rarely lost for something to say, but to actually feel I had something meaningful and valuable to offer – now that felt good!

The final one was the simplest one.  I was there as an invited guest artist, they were offering me money to be there.  I’d have totally done it for free too, but I ended up walking away with a cheque in my hand and big ass grin on my face.

Frankly, when I had this realisation (right about the time I read this awesome Ittybiz post) I was actually a little disappointed not to hear angels singing and blinding lights – but that’s what a childhood spent in places like Sunday school will do to your expectations.

And next?

Ah yes, my brain’s immediate and wholly annoying questioning of where this is going to lead.

Well, I don’t know.  That’s been one of my big lessons this year.  And I’m still working on being ok with that.  In the meantime, I try and taper the heart-exploding panic of not having my life mapped out for the next 20 years with the reminder that 1) having it mapped out would cause me to die of boredom, and 2) I’m actually making progress here.

Want to see more? Try one of these posts:

• Having a good time
• Bodies in Urban Spaces – Brighton Festival
• Webcomics