Carmina Burana was one of the most magical experiences I had ever encountered in my life. The performance by the Sacramento Ballet was not only stunning - it was disarming, provocative and transformative. The drama, the sexuality, the full chorus, the blending of art … it was … like nothing else I had ever seen before.

And … it was performed last year. And won’t be performed for another three, four years.

What to do between then?

Founded in 1954, the Sacramento Ballet claims to be “the only Sacramento arts organization with a company of resident artists.” And yet their world remains such a mystery. With the popularity of The Black Swan, audiences around the world are groping for tidbits of information on the struggles these artists go through as they perfect the dramatization of the most beloved stories ever told.

Who are they? They teach yoga and pilates, they hang out at Hamburger Pattie’s, they are the things they allow us to know from their brief bios.

From the stage, they appear unearthly. No deep breathing to behold, no apparent sweat dripping from their bodies. In performing, they do not giggle, they do not make inappropriate faces, they do not break character. They are living in another world, and we are just thrilled to be allowed in, as dark spectators.

Stefan Calka, one of the Romeos in the upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, reiterates the dancer's profound creative professionalism in the Sacramento Ballet’s blog, “Prokofiev’s score is wound with such lushness and textural sensations with whips of dissonance that remind you of the tragic story line. Dancing to it is completely rewarding. It is like breathing within water. It’s like being surrounded in a new denser atmosphere. The bass runs resound in the pit of your stomach. The Balcony Pas de Deux sounds how new love feels.”

I recently caught my first “Inside the Director’s Studio” at the Sacramento Ballet company’s headquarters on the corner of K and 17th. It was my first time in the studio, having only peered inside the front doors passing by or watching young dancers pour out of class.

I’m not die-hard, I am just a retired little girl who still wishes to be prima.

The studio smelled of long hours of hard work when I walked in. Not the kind that comes from hard labor or a dingy gym locker room, but just the faintest whiff of focused energy. The dance floor was a shiny black, criss-crossed with scuffs. Menacing.

Once the audience – primarily of middle-aged arts patrons (you know the type) -- had finished shuffling, stomping in and taking their seats in the pliable folding chairs lining the floor, the ensemble drifted in. They did not clunk and clamor, the wooden knocking of their shoes and the force of their drive melted into the back of the room.

A couple of male dancers – the majority of the crew on this “Men of the Sacramento Ballet” themed evening were men, an unusual sight for an art dominated by femininity –quickly sailed through what appeared to be a fight scene. Others doubled their bodies over the east-wall bar, some chatted while stretching and all moved fluidly across the room.

I suppose I expected black leotards and pink tights. What I got was a 2011-version of the cast of RENT. They wore overalls, polo shirts, bandanas, bright colors, shorts, tattoos and tied-dye. They were tall, willowy, short, muscular, curvy and straight.

They looked happy.

They looked thrilled to be here, in this space, performing not just for a mirror, but for an audience of enthusiastic supporters. That’s who waits in lines around the corner for a small studio performance – the supporters. We were the fans and these were the celebrities waiting to shine.

The performance began. It was interactive, with the dancers flying inches from our toes and the artistic directors counting the rhythm in our ears. A technical glitch answered by a joke to fill the air.

The sidelined dancers cooed in admiration during difficult routines.

We were reminded of choreographer George Balanchine’s oft-remarked quote, “Ballet is woman.” Tonight was about the man. The man who takes all of us, not just the swan-woman in the pointe shoes, up to glorious heights, twisting us softly to the floor and bringing us the stars. Our eyes are always on the ballerina, but tonight, it was different.

They floated, they flittered, they threw down and pulled out their swords. (Real. Swords.) They were men being men – competitive and predominate. They were artists displaying a spectrum of emotion and creative sensitivity.

To give an idea on what the male dancers experience every day, Chloe, one of the three Juliets wrote in her Dancers’ Perspectives blog entry, “I can’t believe how strong these Romeos are. They are literally lifting women over their heads the entire day. They get kicked, scratched, torn and bruised by us (all accidental) with no complaints. Ladies hardly ever get hurt because the men are gentleman and experts at what they do.”

The blog, another device in bridging the divide of intrigue, not only includes entries by the dancers explaining their long days of work, but also includes videos from the viewpoint of Romeo. (I watch this video and think somewhere there is a Flip Cam with duct tape and hair follicles strapped to it.) Check out the sequel, taken from tall guy Richard Porter.

But is it enough? Is there something sexy about meeting a ballet dancer in a bar and seeing them act like normal every day people? Not particularly.

On the street, they appear normal, if not amazingly in shape. They work from 9 to 6, just like the rest of us.

But their mystique is what allures us.

When the Queen climbed to the top of the silver disk in Carmina Burana, she was no longer human. When Herr Drosselmeyer delights the children in The Nutcracker, he transports us all. And in Romeo and Juliet, we are swept away as passionate teenagers.

Ballet is not just – I say this as a casual participant – is not just another form of creative art. It is, to be cliché, poetry in motion, the soul finding its voice, its feet, its air to breathe.

Alexandra Cunningham, one of the Juliets wrote this of her partner, “My eyes are closed so I can't predict when Rick will hold my hand or squeeze me - yet despite lacking that particular sense, I can feel Rick's intensity in every other way. While it is weird to not be able to react to his embraces and tugs, the emotional tension in his body fuels and helps me to mentally prepare and ‘awaken’ as Juliet.”

To know the dancers, no matter how long they have been with the Sacramento Ballet corps for years, is to enjoy watching them.