On Tuesday night, I took a ballet class. My first in a very, very long time.

Awhile ago, I stopped dancing regularly because let’s face it, I was never going to be dancing in the ballet at the MET and so I told myself I should fill my time with something more important. Something that was going to get me something, you know? A job to give me money! A class that gives me a useful skill! Whatever!

See, I often like to do things that have a purpose. My time is very precious to me and I like being as! efficient! as! humanly! possible!

Over the years, particularly after making my Mondo Beyondo list, I started working on changing that mentality. I tried to modify the idea that you don’t have to fill every day with very important things, things that are designed to get you somewhere else. You don’t have to work quite so hard to GO GO GO because often, you forget why you are going and you stop enjoying pretty much everything in an effort to reach your final destination.

And the thing is, I love to dance.

No, I am not the greatest dancer. And no, I am not going to be hired by a professional ballet company anytime soon or ever in my life. But who exactly cares? Isn’t it fulfilling to choose to do things in life simply for the joy we get out of doing them? Rather then because we have some ulterior motive? Or feel obligated to do them?

I’d been meaning to test out the strength of my knee/ankle injury anyway and my physical therapist has been telling me that she thinks I’m ready to try a dance class so…finally, I found a super slow beginner class, threw my ballet shoes in my bag and went.

I went to a new studio and took a class with a teacher I didn’t know and I felt nervous.

And then the first barre exercise started and the piano began to play and I felt tears well up in my eyes as my body quite easily clicked itself into place.

An hour and a half of pure joy.

And when it was over, it was over.

And it was worth every single precious second.

(c) nymag.com