Dance of A Memory🦋

Dance of A Memory🦋

I’ve always loved watching ballet—it’s breathtaking, ethereal, and so full of emotion that I often imagine myself as the ballerina, lifted and carried by the music. That’s why I’ve been captivated by the new Netflix series Étoile. It combines two of my favorite loves: ballet and France. Every scene feels like a dream, bringing forward the elegance and artistry I’ve cherished since childhood.

Classical music has always been a part of my story. I grew up watching films about ballet, listening to the soaring melodies, and feeling a deep connection to that world of grace and discipline. One piece in particular stands out for me: Camille Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre.

I was first introduced to it through the movie Tombstone. Kyle and I watched it together, and it became one of those rare shared moments where love and art intersected. We both adored that haunting scene—the Faust sequence—where the music swells with mystery and drama. It was unforgettable to sit beside someone who also felt the depth of a piece that borders on operatic in its intensity.

Danse Macabre itself is a symphonic poem, written in 1874. It tells the story of Death summoning skeletons from their graves to dance at midnight. You can hear the clock strike twelve in the harp, followed by the devil’s tritone on solo violin. It’s eerie, beautiful, and filled with imagery that stirs the imagination—like watching shadows come alive in rhythm with the night.

For me, this piece has become bittersweet. It holds memories of a love that has passed, yet the music itself still belongs to me. I once read that true healing is when you can tell your story—the good and the painful—without crying. That’s when you know you’ve begun to move forward.

I’ve come to realize that love may leave, but art never does. What was introduced to me is now mine to carry. And so I anchor myself in this affirmation:

I carry the beauty of the music, not the shadow of the memory.

What was introduced to me is now mine to keep.

Love may leave, but art stays—and so does my strength.

I am free to remember with peace instead of pain.

This is the dance of a memory: transforming the weight of the past into something graceful, like a ballerina lifted into the light. Every time I hear Danse Macabre, I choose to let it be not a shadow, but a reminder of the beauty that art gifts us

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