A certain ambivalence...

[oursin]

This poem by William Empson has been much on my mind... Missing Dates Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.
It is not the effort nor the failure tires.
The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.
....
It is the poems you have lost, the ills
From missing dates, at which the heart expires.
Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.

***
But. to counteract that gloomy mood: Ginger doesn't suggest picking yourself up and dusting yourself off, or even offer sage counsel on what to do when there may be troubles ahead; but just, for a moment, Let Yourself Go:

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And here is her solo tap sequence:

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