The Pi Dance

Private class with J. today. She brought an unusual piece of music from the soundtrack of the movie, "Pi." Interesting choice. This is to be her first solo. At first, I didn't know what to do with the intro, which was very irregular. I started further in, when the steady rhythm comes in.

I saw the whole middle slow section with her beginning from a backbend then dropping to the floor, then slinking across the floor with a Turkish crawl. All this takes incredible core strength. I had plan B in case she was unable to do these highly challenging movements.

When the music goes into a wild, cacophonous rhythm, she will rise and choo choo shimmy wildly with body locks and unusual arm movements, as if she is a robot that is frantically trying to communicate but has gone berserk. Then she'll slowly retreat as if running out of steam.

As soon as I finished it, I listened to the opening again and saw it. It is different, unusual, provocative, and fresh. She begins back to audience, settled into an angular, exotic pose, made even more interesting by her incredibly tiny waist and curvy hips. She is holding her right arm straight up, hand closed into fist. Her left hand grips her right wrist. The music begins with a mechanical voice saying, "2:50am." Then there are four little dings like a clock. She will pop open each finger, pinky first, then run her left hand down her right arm, across the back of her neck, then down her left side to rest at her hip. As a slight regular pulsing begins in the music, her right hand undulates down her side. When the heavy rhythm begins, she does quick, sharp hip snaps, arms rising slowly out to overhead while she pivots to face forward. And the dance goes on.

When J. gets to the studio, I ask her how she envisions the piece. She will be spending a lot of time rehearsing this dance, so I want her to feel that it expresses something that she wants to say. I don't want to impose my vision on her. She has the same sense of a dancer who is not quite human, the movements angular and somewhat erratic. So, we begin.

Dolphin Dance

Stuck our feet in the ocean. Freeeeezing, thought we would never make it in. Then we saw the dolphins less than 75 feet from us, leaping, frolicking, dancing. The seagulls above soaring, sweeping, dancing. We were being invited to the dance. How could we refuse. Only way to go was total commitment. All together now, run, run, run, run, jump.  Literally breathtaking! The dolphins leapt higher; the gulls swooped lower, embracing us in their dance

Dance, The Universal Language

Dance is everwhere! The all-incluive in Nuevo Vallarta, Mexico includes day and evening entertainment, and that means lots of dancing. In two days, I’ve seen aerobic dance classes in the pool, line dancing class on the beach, a dance game looking something like musical chairs(but you sit down on your partner’s lap instead of on a chair), a lip synced Broadway review on the La Boheme stage. The eight house dancers made quick costume changes then re-entered the stage along with a blast from a fog machine. An Aztec troupe of eight dancers with authentic costumes and fabulous 3 feet high feathered headdresses performed the dance of the hunter and the deer. I always cry when the beautiful deer dancer in his antler headdress takes his final leap and drops to the ground, clutching the spear wound in his chest.
Next night, we have the house dancers, women in tight capris, and men in muscle shirts, in an energetic rendition of the dance numbers from the 50’s era Grease. Sweet, sexy, innocent, and brash, all qualities expressed through posture and movement. Later, the dancers lip sync and do impersonations of famous pop stars. The Tina Turner girl was a hoot.
Every night there’s a kids disco from 6-7, teen disco from 8-10 and adult disco until 2am. People wiggle, slither, hop, skip, plotz, etc, and call it dancing. I’m not sure what I call it, but it’s still a most popular form of entertainment, especially in this international tourist venue where I’ve heard at least 8 different languages spoken.

Escape to Mexico

This is the way a day should begin—at least a day in Mexico. Four violins, two trumpets, two guitars and eight mustached mariachi musicians in black silver studded suits, crisp white shirts, and shiny white patent leather shoes, play and sing for the puffed up patrons stuffing their faces from the obscenely sumptuous breakfast buffet at the luxurious ostentatious all-inclusive resort hotel. It’s the week before Christmas. Richard, my husband, and I arrived late yesterday afternoon and stumbled through the evening—exhausted. We had taught up until the last moment (Richard teaches Tai Chi and Chi Kung). We both leave it all on the floor each time—like we may never see these students again and must impart one last bit of wisdom.
Even now, I just passed Richard on my way through the lobby. He was writing—no doubt a teaching story that will tell the reader something that will help her through the day and bring a little light into the world.
“Ei yi yi yi,” the musicians sing. Boy do we need a rest.

Where Does Choreography Come From

Today I taught a private class for M. Last week, she’d brought this saucy song in and asked me to choreograph a dance for her to do at a party on New Year’s Eve. I’d been listening to it in the car, mostly thinking I didn’t know what to do with it, and that it had to be easy since she had so little time to make it performance ready. As I pulled up to the studio, I asked Spirit*, “Okay Spirit, what can I do with this?” Upon which, the whole dance unfolded in my mind, except for some connecting links that I knew would come as we moved.
One of my big contemplations is whether it’s all written (our life) and we just have to be open to it. Whether the appropriate response is dropped into our lap if we just know how to receive. The choreography process often makes me feel that this is true. I listen to the music and feel like I am taking dictation. Is that because I’m receiving it from a plane where it already exists, or because after all these years I know the language so well—I know what the sounds look like? The places where I get stuck and don’t know what to do, is it because I’m not clear enough to receive or because I just have never translated that particular sound into movement.
When I’m stuck and I remember to ask Spirit, the movement comes through, and it’s always a new movement or gesture that I’ve never made before. It’s always perfect and becomes the signature of the dance.
Readers—write and tell me about your choreographic process. Can’t wait to hear from you. This subject fascinates me.
*When I say Spirit, I am asking That which is larger than I, That which is all-creative and has no limits to possibility. It could be my higher self, the collective unconscious, the muse, the goddess, whatever it is that awakens and responds to the creative urge.

Move, Dance, Pray

If every day is an opportunity to meet the spirit, and our movements through the day are our prayer, are we beckoning, hiding, pushing away or inviting? How do we meet the day?
Bonjour day! Good day! Aloha! Or: “Oh crap! I gotta do this, or I gotta do that. Can’t wait until that’s over.”
Reshad Feild, one of my amazing life teachers, greets every day as he puts his feet on the floor by asking, “May I be allowed to be of service?” And that is his work for the day. Makes life simple, but it’s the hardest work in the world. Stay alert, be present, open to receive Life’s calling. Whatever needs to be done is our next move. The world is waiting for someone to help. When I am conscious and humble enough to ask that question sincerely, my day is filled with a different quality than when I awaken with my list. I’m waiting, questioning, observing. How can I help, what is right in front of me that needs attention. Not what can I do to cross off my endless list. I am listless but in a good way.

The Book's Journey Begins

Well, this is a daunting task. I sit here with my book beside me and realize that not a thing will happen with it unless I make it happen. I decided to self publish for three reasons:
1) I did not have the patience to wait to find an agent, who would then try to find a publisher, who would then put it on their list to print at least a year after that.
2) I do my research. Publishing companies do not put money into publicising their authors anymore unless they are already big time and can promise to bring in the big bucks. Thousands of new books are published each year and new authors are warned that they will have to drive their own sales and still expect to sell very few books.
3) This book is my life’s work and I wanted to be
able to do with is what I wanted. I’m a gal with a
plan. I don’t want to just be able to say I am an
author. I want to continue to teach these ideas to a
larger audience. I want to travel and share. I am
already writing a companion volume and also working
on a new book.
This blog will follow the journey of this book out to the world.

My Mission

So now I have a new life to introduce to the world–a story to share–precious information that was imparted to me that changed my life. My mission in life is to usher others into the world of Beauty and Love. To set up a light in the darkness, that we all may walk through the doorway to Ecstasy and share our radiance with the world. I’ve been teaching dance for 23 years with this intention. Now through the book and this blog, I venture forth to a larger audience. I hope you will help me by buying and reading my book, sharing it with your friends, visiting me on my website, responding to this blog. There are so many things I am interested in exploring: our experiences in dance, performance, teaching, the creative process, mystical and spiritual encounters inspired through dance. I will write about my experiences, ask you questions, and wait eagerly for your response. I am looking for my larger tribe, the messengers of Beauty. Let’s talk!

My Book is Born

This blog is born on the same day as my book DOORWAY TO ECSTASY: A Dancer’s Initiation. It begins a new path on my way through this fantasmagorical journey called Life. The priority mail package, with my book fresh from the printer, lay propped up against my door on this Friday afternoon when I got home. I almost couldn’t catch my breath, I carried it in carefully as if it would break if I dropped it. After all the work that was basically under my control, I had let it go to the printer, hopeful that it would look the way I’d imagined for so long. Now, hoping I wouldn’t be disappointed, I pulled the tab to open the package and peaked in. The baby lay still in the dark. I coaxed it gently out into the light of day. I was looking at a jewel. The colors literally glowed on their sleek black background. I checked the spine, beautiful with it’s stacked rainbow letters. I turned it over to see that the baby had all it’s fingers and toes. I rubbed it’s back, a cry of life escaped, was it the book or me?