MORNINGSIDE HEIGHTS, MANHATTAN—
I want to be clear, I don’t know how to dance. Or at least I didn’t before. I have no rhythm. I have no flexibility—only a yearning to spread the joyous history of 5,000 years of civilization and the teachings of the great scholars and artists who resided in China before Communism (learn more here: https://en.falundafa.org/).
Anyway, it was a Tuesday. My phone was dead, my watch unwound, and my glasses missing. I had no idea what time it was. So when I passed the Falun Gong table on 116th and Broadway, I stopped, thinking I could practice my Mandarin a bit, and so asked them the time:
“2:15,” they said. By 2:45, I was in a van to New Jersey.
That was six months ago. I am now a Shen Yun principal dancer.
They are teaching me what it means to truly be a good human being, and enabling me to connect with the rich historical traditions that have been lost to Communist rule.
Once, I was a lost Columbia student. Now, I’ve found my true purpose in life. I found meaning in relentless rehearsal, often for twelve hours a day. I have performed in 47 cities. I have not spoken to friends and family since that fateful day. I speak only to the divine, and the divine tells me that the backflip I perform in Act II is improving.
Sometimes the other dancers ask me why I joined. I simply tell them that I wanted to know what time it was. They nod with a wise, knowing look in their eyes. It seems most have similar stories.
If you see the table on 116th and Broadway, do not be afraid. Approach. Ask them anything. The time. Directions. They are kind. They are patient.
They are waiting for you.
If I’m good—they tell me—I will be able to visit Columbia soon. I cannot wait for you all to see the man I’ve become.
