Introducing a new series: Small Town Blues
I'm working on a new series. It's about what I have experienced personally, the "Small Town Blues." I came out of this special kind of depression about a year ago. I no longer feel pain from the isolation. I no longer cry every time I traveled home from festivals and haflas. My daily practice no longer feels like a waste of time. And, not purposefully being dramatic here, a part of me doesn't feel like it's dying anymore. I'm writing this series because I know there are others who are going through this right now. I'm not a licensed psychologist, and majority of my evidence is anecdotal. Even still, maybe sharing what I know will make a difference for those who have not become clinically depressed. Therefore, seek help if you need it. This series is not a suitable replacement for professional guidance from a healthcare professional.
What I call the "Small Town Blues" is the unique experience some belly dancers encounter when dwelling in towns or cities where dance in general barely exists. Very discouraging, and sometimes, passion isn't enough to fight against it. I firmly believe that those who have transplanted into small towns are the most susceptible. When living in Southeast Arkansas, I almost quit. I loved my belly dancer life in my previous hometown, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't repeat it in Monticello. The only thing that kept me from quitting was the news that we were moving to Hot Springs, Arkansas. I hoped that things would be better once we got out of Monticello. That hope was enough to keep me from selling all of my costuming and be done, forever. The fact that I didn't quit felt like a victory at the time. Now in the present, I know I have failed. As an outside observer, I see strategies I should have used instead, and I have learned some things that I wish I knew back then. Maybe things would have been different. I almost want to move to another dance-deprived community and try again.
UPDATE: After writing "Gratitude," I know now that there was so much more that kept me from quitting. In a way, I'm still getting over the depression, but I'm at a point where I'm not focusing on it. Writing about it helps me move on completely.
Even though I'm writing from a transplanted dancer point-of-view, there are plenty of people who experience the small town blues in their own hometowns. I must say, though, not all small towns are filled with people who have no appreciation for dance. As I have said in previous posts, every community is different. It's very possible that there are small American communities where dance is an active form of entertainment. I got the impression that Crestone, Colorado and Eureka Springs, Arkansas were small towns where dance can thrive. Locals, feel free to weigh in. I imagine that the small town blues is similar to other forms of dancer burnout that lead people to quit, even if they live in a community where dance, especially belly dancing, thrives. If so, I hope this series will be useful to these dancers as well.
My goal is to provide some insight and strategies that everyone can experiment with to see what works, what doesn't, and why. A lot of the posts in this series will relate to other challenges belly dancers face. So instead of writing a sequential series like "Transplanted...," the posts will be labeled and listed under the topic: "Small Town Blues"
What I call the "Small Town Blues" is the unique experience some belly dancers encounter when dwelling in towns or cities where dance in general barely exists. Very discouraging, and sometimes, passion isn't enough to fight against it. I firmly believe that those who have transplanted into small towns are the most susceptible. When living in Southeast Arkansas, I almost quit. I loved my belly dancer life in my previous hometown, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't repeat it in Monticello. The only thing that kept me from quitting was the news that we were moving to Hot Springs, Arkansas. I hoped that things would be better once we got out of Monticello. That hope was enough to keep me from selling all of my costuming and be done, forever. The fact that I didn't quit felt like a victory at the time. Now in the present, I know I have failed. As an outside observer, I see strategies I should have used instead, and I have learned some things that I wish I knew back then. Maybe things would have been different. I almost want to move to another dance-deprived community and try again.
UPDATE: After writing "Gratitude," I know now that there was so much more that kept me from quitting. In a way, I'm still getting over the depression, but I'm at a point where I'm not focusing on it. Writing about it helps me move on completely.
Even though I'm writing from a transplanted dancer point-of-view, there are plenty of people who experience the small town blues in their own hometowns. I must say, though, not all small towns are filled with people who have no appreciation for dance. As I have said in previous posts, every community is different. It's very possible that there are small American communities where dance is an active form of entertainment. I got the impression that Crestone, Colorado and Eureka Springs, Arkansas were small towns where dance can thrive. Locals, feel free to weigh in. I imagine that the small town blues is similar to other forms of dancer burnout that lead people to quit, even if they live in a community where dance, especially belly dancing, thrives. If so, I hope this series will be useful to these dancers as well.
My goal is to provide some insight and strategies that everyone can experiment with to see what works, what doesn't, and why. A lot of the posts in this series will relate to other challenges belly dancers face. So instead of writing a sequential series like "Transplanted...," the posts will be labeled and listed under the topic: "Small Town Blues"
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| The stretch towards University of Arkansas, Monticello. One of the prettier locations in the small town. Lots of agricultural development and a well hidden creative community. Here, the arts are not revered as in other towns such as Hot Springs, Arkansas. Or Bentonville... hello Crystal Bridges! Maybe it's changing now, but that's how it was when I was living there. |
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