The Mind and its Prejudices

‘This is not my cup of tea,’ the voice murmured.Alicia dashed the cup onto the table. 

The program was about to begin in three hours. She had slipped out of the backstage room for a quick puff of smoke and coffee. Tonight, she would perform the prima ballerina in Black Swan for the first time.

She was only five when her mother had dropped her at ballet school. Now she was eighteen.

On stage, ballet appears effortless,a theatrical dance adorned with delicate costumes and magical lighting. But beneath that illusion lay years of relentless practice; weight-bearing exercises, balance, coordination, and unwavering concentration;Bruised toes, calluses, blisters and none of it shows under the soft glow of stage lights. 

Her body, after years of discipline has learned to move like a feather in the breeze and yet today, something felt off.

Her face burned, her turquoise eyes grew moist. The thought of quitting hovered dangerously close. She took a long drag, letting the smoke settle her nerves. This was her final break; they were to report backstage in less than an hour.

Unlike other dance forms, ballet demanded not only grace but seamless connection between dancers.

Alicia, however, had always danced alone,even among many. She was precise, controlled, and quietly critical. A slightly bent arm, a mistimed landing,she noticed everything. A faint smile, sometimes a careless remark which was never cruel, but neither kind.

It had pushed her this far.Her cabriole was flawless where her second leg returned to the floor while the other leg would be held for a second in the air at 90 degrees before returning to the floor. 

She had earned her place with discipline others rarely matched. Long after the studio emptied, she stayed back, chasing an idea of perfection that refused to settle.

And slowly, almost unnoticed, that same sharp gaze she cast on others had turned inward.

Mistakes that hadn’t happened yet began to feel real. Her reflection became an examiner. She would stand for hours before the mirror, not correcting,but searching.

Ballet, like any other creative work, is about finding a flow in which we lose ourselves and become one with the art form which fulfills us. It is that moment of flow that makes our performance extraordinary.

At the backstage, she sat still as her makeup was done, unconsciously tracing movements in her mind. The room glowed dimly with a pale green hue. The musicians were tuning to their final notes and other last-minute adjustments, the dancers were dressing and grooming to look their best on stage. The newbies giggled a little more to shed their anxiety while the veterans tried to look for a quiet place to focus.

She slipped on her pink satin ballet shoes, adjusting them with care, adding a touch of sparkle to her cheeks to mask the dullness beneath.

But her mind wouldn’t quiet.

Every flaw she had ever noticed in others now echoed back at her,louder, sharper, and unforgiving. It no longer mattered whether anyone else would see them. She already had.

Somewhere along the way, judgment had stopped being a tool. It had become a habit. And habits, once formed, do not choose their direction,they simply deepen their path.

Alicia had spent years perfecting her eye.Now she could not escape it.

The final announcement echoed through the hall. The dancers lined up, their energy rising, faces lit with anticipation. A quiet hum of excitement passed through the group.

Alicia stepped into position.She smiled,but it felt distant Her feet trembled. Her body felt weightless, almost absent. This was new as this was not fear, but something quieter and heavier.For the first time, the stage did not call to her.

All the hours, the pain, the discipline,it stood behind her like a life she wasn’t sure belonged to her anymore.

The music began.Alicia closed her eyes for a brief second.She stepped forward.The first few movements flowed as they always had,controlled and precise.And then, almost invisible to anyone else,there was a slight delay.Her foot met the floor a fraction too late. 

No one noticed.

But she did.The next movement tightened. Then the next. What had once been fluid grew careful and measured. Her mind moved faster than her body now, catching flaws before they formed, correcting what did not yet exist. There was no space left between thought and movement and no room to breathe.

By the time the piece ended, the applause rose like a distant echo.

Alicia stood still, her smile perfectly placed.

Inside, she was elsewhere,replaying and revising.The mistake had already grown larger than the performance itself.

Later, when the room emptied and the mirrors stood waiting, she lingered at the door.For the first time, she hesitated to step in.

She started to fear her own company.

Not because she doubted what she would see,but because she knew she would not stop looking.