Every now and then, a confluence of things presents itself so undeniably that ignoring it becomes more difficult than simply accepting the new reality that is being proposed.

That’s a verbose sentence simply to say: Life has a way of guiding itself for the better, unless you and your ego decide to rail against it.

Anyone who knows the current version of me knows I love dance. It’s become “my thing,” in quotes, a means of aligning self-identity with the world around me. And I’ve put it out there, into the world, sometimes confidently, sometimes not. But always with the intention and hope that something, at some point, made someone out there feel one emotion or another.

Recently, though, a series of seemingly unrelated events has led to me decide that my dance days are over. At least publicly. I have other things, fitness related, that I want to do in the 24 hours I’m allotted each day. Things that don’t incite a spiral of curiosity surrounding other people’s opinions, which dance unfortunately and certainly did. A curiosity that, while harmless in a vacuum, indicated to myself that other people’s (occasionally shitty, occasionally vocalized) opinions mattered. And they didn’t. Or they shouldn’t have.

In any case, onward. A subtle shift. Faith in the work. And not bothering with all the other noise.