If your health doesn’t humble you, then your children will – or a curve ball you don’t expect. That’s why I never get too cocky about anything. When the director of the dance company uses a photo of me for the poster, my daughter stands in the midst of the dancers studying the mock up. She stares aghast. “Oh my God! You can see straight up your nostrils!” So, all we see, of course, are nostrils. I tell my friends and family about the show never expecting so many to buy tickets. This would be wonderful except that, well, in one of the pieces I end up in my underwear. The same daughter consoles me, “At least you don’t have to be nude.” Naturally, it is integral to the idea of the modern piece, which is about death, and when I do this most beautiful piece, it does not feel uncomfortable or unnatural. After all, at the end of life, we all stand naked and withered on the threshold. Still, when I take it out of context and think that I will be in my underwear in front of my my family and neighbors, I sigh a breath of humility. It resembles some of those dreams where the bathroom has no walls or I don't know my steps before I go on stage or I'm in my underwear in front of... oh wait, that's not a dream. Okay, so I want to be vulnerable and open, and if that means being half dressed on stage then I’ll do it – happily, or at least willingly.