When I was about 10, I auditioned for New York City Ballet, to be in their Harlequinade. I got to the final round and then wasn't selected. Of course I was disappointed, but my mother just said, “Julie, your time will come." And I think understanding that is a part of growing up.
As a young dancer, you're wondering what your life is going to be. Especially as you become a teenager, people are asking you “What are you going to do?" and you're asking yourself the same thing. The reality is, it's a beautiful unknown. It's an exquisite mystery. You have to embrace that and understand that you don't know—nobody knows—and as soon as a decision's made, whether it's an audition or an acceptance letter from a university or a job that you land, the work begins in a whole different way.
When I talked to young people at American Ballet Theatre's summer program when I was teaching, I liked to start conversations about the artist's pursuit. What I love so much about being a dancer is that every day, all of us start in first position, and we build on what we've accomplished the hour before, the week before, the year before, the performance before. We're in a constant pursuit of beauty, musicality, clarity, specificity, power, delicacy—you can fill in the blanks endlessly. And if you embrace the notion that it is an endless pursuit, you eliminate a lot of frustration. It's not that what you did the day before wasn't good enough. It's that you're building on it and you're always moving forward.