Forgiveness and Letting Go of Our Past: The Only Way to Truly Live in the Present

I want to tell you a story. When I was 18, I moved out of my family’s home in Jerusalem to a kibbutz called Ga’aton in the north of Israel. The kibbutz was, among many other things, the base of the “Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company.” This young, naive and enthusiastic Amit Abend was one of twelve other apprentices (and six contracted dancers) in the KCDC 2 ensemble. It wasn’t easy; eighteen of us, fighting over only a few spots in the first cast (the only cast that would dance in the main shows and travel to perform all around the country) At the end of my very first week, during a particularly intense section we were rehearsing, I wound up spraining my ankle. You can guess what that meant for me.

Anyone who has experienced being an apprentice knows that it's a difficult position to be in. Always relegated to the back, learning everyone's parts in case someone gets injured, having to show constant attention with active effort and enthusiasm while getting little or no feedback. I didn't mind working hard; I was ready to work hard. What I wasn't ready for was to not be able to work at all. Two weeks into the season, 2 apprentices were chosen for the first cast and the rest of us were sent to work on a kids show. We worked in a separate studio from the chosen apprentices, and the main cast started working on a new piece we didn't even get a chance to learn. In the few opportunities we got to share a studio and work together we were completely overlooked. We didn't even have a chance to be seen and promoted from "second cast", and that was frustrating beyond belief. Whenever we tried to speak up, we were told that we should be grateful for the opportunity to be here, and that there were many dancers who would take our position in a heartbeat if we didn't want it.

Being ignored can create even deeper scars than any criticism or harsh words are capable of inflicting. Feeling so insignificant that you are not even worth a second glance can penetrate the heart and leave you feeling worthless.

I was nearing the end of my first season when the most unexpected thing happened: in the middle of a rehearsal, I was pulled (literally) out of the room to speak with one of the rehearsal directors. She revealed to me that in the beginning of the season, they had wanted me to be one of the two apprentices in the first cast. They had even invited the director of the main company specifically to watch me dance! But as luck would have it, the day he came was the day after I had sprained my ankle, and without knowing it, I missed my chance to be "discovered."

She told me they had tried. They tried to include me in the new works, but every time there was a performance or a crucial rehearsal in the way. Eventually, the gap between the main company and myself had gotten too big; I had missed too much material. They were finally able to include me in a key role of one of the productions, "Aide Mémoire," but they couldn't do much more than that. I know she was trying to make me feel better, to let me know that I wasn't invisible. But finding out how close I had come to being in the first cast, and that it was simply bad luck that had relegated me to my current position, it just made me feel worse. I felt like someone had pulled a rug from under my feet; suddenly I had become the victim of fate, and my success and my future were entirely out of my hands.

I don't know how I was able to stay for another season when most apprentices are let go after one year. I do know that she fought for it to happen. Miraculously, the second year was completely different for me. I rose to the coveted first cast, was able to dance in all of the company's performances, and even got the opportunity to teach in the company's summer intensive - as well as many workshops for visiting groups over the course of the season. What a success, right? The problem was, I didn't feel successful at all. The scars of the previous season ran so deep that no matter how many "important" parts or solos I got, I never felt like I deserved them. I still felt stuck in the second cast: unseen, unappreciated, and unwanted.

The two years I spent in the young company were like a full-on rollercoaster. When I left the company, although I had become a much more experienced dancer physically, and even ticked off a few boxes in my imaginary “successful artist” checklist, I was in a total state of confusion, discouragement, and self-doubt. Plagued by these feelings, still young, though less naive and no longer enthusiastic, I reluctantly began going on auditions, in which I tried to hide and just wanted to get cut so I could go home… And of course, my wish always came true.

I had to leave Israel to search for, and to rediscover my passion for dancing. There were moments when I felt on the brink of finding myself again… And then my old demons would creep back in, and my self-sabotaging patterns would take over. In those moments I could hear the choreographer and directors’ voices in my head, bringing me back to the feelings of helplessness and inadequacy. Needless to say, I was not able to bring self-confidence, self-worth, self-love and self-belief to myself in moments like this.

I am sharing this with you all, not so that you will feel sorry for me, but because I believe that most of us have already experienced, or will experience, toxic environments with teachers, rehearsal directors, choreographers or colleagues that we do not have the emotional capacity to protect ourselves from. Especially as young dance students, or at the beginning of our professional careers. I tell this story to share with you what I discovered: I realized that even after I moved on from high school and dance school, and after I left the Kibbutz, I never truly left those places behind. The thought patterns and negative experiences continued to accompany me like ghosts wherever I went. The more I dwelled on my memories, the sharper they would become, until they were so vivid it felt as if they were still a part of my reality. It took me a long time to realize that - until I truly learn to let go, to bring compassion, love and forgiveness to my past self, and to the experiences that hurt me, I will never truly be happy.

It's hard to let go of our past. In a weird, twisted way it gives us a sense of identity: “This is my story about being mistreated. I'm the one who got hurt. I was the victim. I didn’t get that part, that contract.” It gives us someone to blame whenever we "fail" - and I say that in quotes, because even the concept of “failure” is much more a story that we tell ourselves, and that others impose on us, rather than actual reality. So when we “fail” we can tell ourselves "This happened because they made me feel worthless!" or “I will never believe in myself because that teacher always pushed me down.” Even though these stories have truth in them, we also have to ask ourselves: Are they helping us?

Making the choice to take control over the circumstances of our life, and to stop looking outwards for someone to blame, is fundamental to our ability to leave the ghosts of our past behind. I know it can feel like we will carry the scars of our past and the people who pushed us down for the rest of our lives, but listen to me now: we don’t have to.

The only place where the past can still have a hold on us is in our own mind; if we decide to treat it as a sacred space, one where we get to decide what goes in it and what stays out, do we really want to accommodate all those people and experiences in there? Think of what little we gain by letting them stay, and how much it really costs us.

Letting go and forgiving the circumstances of our past can be scary, because it means taking full responsibility over our present and future, but it is possible.To rephrase the words of Yaara Dolev: “They were there to teach you what you needed to learn, and now you can move on.” You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to let go. This is the gift that only we can give ourselves. And honestly, I think we have to. If we keep all these people and experiences that brought us down in the sacred space of our mind, eventually it will get too crowded. They will take over. By letting go, you are freeing yourself from the weight of the past that is anchoring you down. By letting go, you can begin to finally see things as they are now, and not through the lens of the stories of your past. The only thing that is important is what is now, and your willingness to commit to the present. Without judgment or grudge, without past or future. Give yourself the Present (see what I did there?) of letting these things go. You got to this moment, and you are strong, and you are alive. Let's celebrate that.

“To release the past, we must be willing to forgive.
We have to choose to release the past and forgive everyone, ourselves included. We may not know how to forgive, and we may not want to forgive, but the very fact that we are willing to forgive begins the healing process. It is imperative for our own healing that “we” release the past and forgive everyone.
‘I forgive you for not being the way I wanted you to be. I forgive you and I set you free.’
This affirmation sets us free.”

You Can Heal Your Life, Louise L. Hay

And… it’s out!

Last Summer, I had an idea to record some conversations with inspiring dance artists, and to share them with our dance community. Today, a little over a year later, that idea has finally come to fruition! It feels so surreal that these dialogues I’ve been working on, editing, and listening to back and forth for the past year are going to be out there for other people to listen to. For YOU to listen to. I had almost started believing that they would forever play to my ears, and my ears alone. But like any creation, it is time to let go of the “studio” process and put it out on stage for the public to experience.

I won’t lie, I’m nervous. Speaking was never my strong suit (hmmm... is this why I’m a dancer?) and creating this podcast has been as terrifying as it has been exciting for me. But when I get scared and face the “Impostor syndrome” I remind myself why I do this. I’m just a dancer like you - I mean, we are all movers in one way or another, aren’t we? - And I’m here to share my story, and most importantly, the stories of other dance artists in our dance community.

The ongoing presence of Covid-19 has had and continues to have, a huge effect on our personal and professional lives in every way possible. I feel that now, more than ever, we need to support one another and take care of our mental health, as well as our physical health. For the past year, podcasts, organizations, live streams, and other formats have grown drastically, giving a voice to dance artists all over the world. I feel so grateful for that. Sharing our challenges and the lessons we have learned is our biggest mission and responsibility at this moment of isolation. Let’s remind each other that we are not alone.

So... I guess that’s it. Episode #0 “Introducing Inside Contemporary Dance” is already available, and Episode #1, featuring the wonderful Pau Aran Gimeno will be released on Tuesday! There are many more exciting episodes lined up to be released, just wait for it. We are already one step closer to one another.

Peace and love!
Amit

P.S. I’ll be back here with thoughts and ideas every once in a while, so stay tuned!