The time that Sharon Kihara made me cry.

I may have recovered from Tribal Revolution by now (it was in June, if that puts it in scale). I'm not sure I want to "get back to normal", though, because some of these things are important lessons, that I don't want to waste.

As usual, I did not take enough pictures. Or, any pictures. I did get a souvenir mug, of which I am exceedingly fond. It was the 10th Tribal Rev, and you know what? I've only been going since 2012, and have found it to be a consistently well-planned, friendly, and awesome experience every time. So, kudos to you, Blue Lotus Tribe! I'll be back. And hopefully next year, there won't be a wedding in the middle of the weekend forcing me to depart.

I almost didn't go, because of this wedding. But Kat convinced me I should, and I certainly didn't regret it. I hopped in my car and motored down to Illinois (Wheeling is NOT Chicago, by the way) for a Thursday afternoon session with Rachel Brice.

It was called White Cat, Black Cat. By the end, I was a dead cat. She is so excellent at breaking down combinations that you can feel some mastery... until she puts the music back on the correct tempo. Suddenly, you remember, you are a baby dancer, and you have some work to do. I did thoroughly enjoy the Rob Halford warm-up squats, however.

We then hustled back to the room to see if we could be helpful in any way because Kat was performing in the Thursday night show! Thursday night is usually when the troupes and up and coming individual performers dance. It was in staged in the round, with the lights dimmed but the audience was pretty much IN YOUR FACE! I would have been super intimidated, but Kat performed beautifully. Seriously, someone yelled, "Beautiful!" at the end.

There was wine and Jimmy Johns. Since I was only there for 2 days, I signed up for 3 classes (7 hours of instruction) on Friday. Rest was required.

My Friday morning class was with Asharah. I signed up for these classes in March, and had kind of forgotten what I picked or what I was thinking at the time. We were stretching, chatting, checking phones before class, and I thought, this instructor looks familiar. Then we started a vigorous warm up and she started commanding, "Right! Left!" and it all came back to me. Shimmies, Asharah Style, 2012. I love her brainy, technical and precise way of looking at dance. But that was some hard work.

Next up was Tempest and Nathaniel Johnstone. This is actually my 3rd workshop from Tempest. She is a great teacher of creativity and interpreting music, and she had her new husband and collaborator with her to help. Nathaniel had brought his instruments and played each one to that we could do interpretation. So useful! And it really does make snake arms so much more graceful if you imagine you are petting the kitties on the wall.

I had an hour, so I actually went to the hotel restaurant to eat some real food, instead of the Luna bars and bananas I had been fueled with earlier. And it's a good thing I did, because I shudder to consider how hunger would have enhanced the next experience.

Sharon Kihara was the only instructor I had never taken before, as it turns out. And what a beautiful, calming force she is. I had taken dance workshops in emotional expression before, and was kind of puzzled at how certain emotions were unavailable to me, or perhaps just too scary. Sharon somehow made it safe to mess with these ideas. It was based on the Japanese dance forms of Ankoko Butoh, and I wouldn't say we did anything particularly Middle Eastern in those 3 hours. We strolled and ran and jumped up and down in unison with another dancer's limbic system on an imaginary balancing platform. We used a 7 minute song to grow from a seed into the strongest form we could represent. We pounded the excess energy back into the ground.

It got really intense when we split into 2 groups and performed for each other. My group was first assigned to imagine we were in a box, buried in the earth, for 6 minutes. I laid on my back, closed my eyes, and felt the dimensions of my box. I eventually came to terms with it. It was my cozy constriction. And the song ended, and I realized that we do this in real life, contain ourselves in boxes that are too small, and imaginary as well, and find ourselves comfortable and resigned.

My group's next exercise was to walk across the room with our heaviest emotional burden in a backpack, regard the audience directly, and lay the imaginary luggage at their feet. Sharon encouraged us to use a real, meaningful burden. I chose my mother's death when I was 21, dragged it across the floor like a stubborn toddler, put my hands on hips and cried. I was not the only one in tears at the end. We discussed it, hugged, wiped our tears, took a break. A woman in the audience group told me during the break she was intrigued by my "performance" because it looked so different than the others, because I had my hands clenched and on my hips and the anger. I think she wanted me to tell her what I was acting out, but I couldn't really talk about it then. I was later haunted on the drive home that I didn't put the burden down clearly. I had kept it, like a broken toy, but I eventually decided it was part of me, and it makes me stronger in the long run.

It was not quite all over. There was a Friday show, but it's like Sharon's last workshop wiped my brain clean. I barely remember any of the performances (well, except when Tempest busted into the knee spins. That was pretty awesome.) I think I was still busy processing.

This was back in June. Since then, I have stumbled through a few choreography classes, drove to Grand Rapids to take a couple classes with my first tribal teacher, Carrie Susemihl, and taken a workshop with Aida al-Adawi, But I still think the most powerful dance workshop I have ever experienced was that one.

And I apologize for the sporadic nature of this blog this summer. NEW POST EVERY WEDNESDAY. There. I did it. I promised it, I shall deliver. Take that, Panic Monster.

Opa!

Why do I do this? Why do I endanger my reputation and propriety and expose my belly literally to scrutiny? Well, mostly for the amusement of locals but it runs a little deeper than that. Check out these pictures from the Greek Festival this weekend.

Makeup is fun, maybe. Nicolina tried to help me and showed me what a nice cat eye could do. I even consulted my hair team for a plan (they came up with rollers and setting gel). So, it should have been a piece of cake, right?

Nicolina's job, in the car.

My job, with curlers. Hmm.

Tools: happiness candle, falsies, glue.

The 2nd try went better, the following night. 

Sparkles! So, the make up is on. Gotta get the costume bits together. The most exciting costume this year was for our Tribal Corps group. Lace pants, faux leather vest. Feathers. Tons of jewelry. It was also the only costume that exposed my poor scarred belly, so I wore the belly cover this year, which I have not always done. I know it's kind of cheating, and it doesn't make you look any thinner. But it made me more comfortable, which meant I was more expressive in my dancing. 

And that's really why I do this, to express myself. I love that there's a group of women that want to express themselves this way with me. It's really about sisterhood, and learning more about different cultures, and appreciating independence. 

Full sparkle, pin-up mode. 

Culture: We were performing at a Greek festival, put on by a local Greek restaurant chain. Usually the intent is to do more Greek music numbers (although I have also performed a Bollywood inspired routine and a flamenco skirt dance in previous years). This town has a relatively prominent Greek community, which is pretty cool. So I do consider it an honor to perform there. And I learned something new - it is good luck to begin a dance with your right foot. I also had a fantastic vegetarian platter with olives and hummus and grape leaves and spanakopita. Maybe twice.

Sisterhood: The other culture I'm always trying to figure out is femininity. My brother did not teach me how to do cute things with my hair, or which underwear to wear with thin tight pants, or what is too much or too little to share. That's what I am trying to learn from everyone, really. I've rationalized the dancing in these semi-ridiculous costumes as important because women in other cultures can't dress or dance this way without losing everything. It's my backwards feminist stance - I shall present myself as an object and then dare you to treat me as such. I know that a lot of people don't get it. I don't fully fall for that one myself.

But I'm going to keep doing it, and pretty much because I can. I'm going to dance so that more women can dance. 

New Year's Eve Eve, Eve

Sometimes I think people get bummed out by "resolutions" because they think too big. I struggle with it myself. It doesn't sound very exciting to resolve to be a more reasonable drinker who saves her change and tries to plan one fun (for her! not just the existing social obligations) weekend each month. But, because I'm a simpleton, I really think this will make a better life for me!

Resolutions are by necessity boring. They are the framework. We might as well call them habits, and maybe that would remove the bitterness. Semantics. You don't have to make new habits at the new year, but it's such a nice division point. You'll have lots of support from other positive thinkers who are trying to make their lives better. There doesn't have to be a million resolutions. I like three.

See, in my little fantasy land, I've set up resolutions as the tiny, constant attempts to change. Each month I will set up a new mind, body, and / or soul experiment, just for fun. Whatever sticks, sticks. The hope is that these little changes will allow the big goals to happen, kind of like a rain barrel.

And the big goals are the garden. Things like travel and  love and dance performances grow there, nourished by the rain barrel.

This is a pretty flaky analogy, I know. Magical hippy talk. But I've tried the outlined, measurable goal with multiple steps and intense straining and that hasn't really worked for me. Sometimes you just have to let it come to you, in my experience. And then recognize it. For example, last year I participated in a belly dance trio that choreographed and performed (beautifully, I might proudly add) at the Greek Festival. I poo poo it because, well, it rained that night and the only people there were the other dancers and their families. But we still did it. It really happened. It was on my list of goals.

It's a lot like the Lissa Rankin Eggy / Spermy thing. I'm using this elaborate garden explanation, because I like that a lot of the "magic" of gardening is science but there's definitely some woo woo in there, too. I'm still struggling to explain it, but it's also like the garden of Eden. We are already in the "paradise" and then we exile ourselves. It's easy to get all blame-y (the snake did it! It's Eve's fault!) but it's also UNAVOIDABLE. You must leave the garden. And then try to get back in.

So here's to a 2013 with more dancing, and some good trips and all the love we can find. I'm going to try going to bed on time and eating fiber. It will all work together. And/Or you'll hear about it again next December.

Revolution revelations

I've just returned from Tribal Revolution with a new idol and attitude. I learned a lot. I loved a lot! I now mangle sentences and cliches just trying to relay how much I freaking loved it.

Lesson 1. I drove to Chicago (well, past Chicago) by myself for the first time since the early 00s. Now, we have the benefit of GPS, but I was proud of myself nonetheless. I do not want to get stuck in one place.

Idol 1: Rachel Brice Serpentine Scales was my first workshop. First of all, she's adorable and an amazing dancer. Is it fair that she's also hilarious and smart? No, but that's how the world works, sisters, so get up offa that wall. There were a lot of amazing concepts to absorb, from the 90 / 90 principle (practice something 90x a day for 90 days and it's yours forever) and the whole idea of playing your dancing "scales" on a regular basis, to her cool and unusual footwork and drills. Plus, yoga. I miss good yoga instruction. We even took a picture with her afterward! That's my sometimes dance collaborator and hotel roommate Michelle on the right. I am wearing my new beloved Girl Walk // All Day inspired scarf.

Next: Elizabeth Strong. She was teaching Upper Egyptian Fusion, which included geography, history, culture, and duh, dancing. I knew a lot of the dance moves from studying with Joette, but I am ashamed to say I did not know as much of the culture / history / geography as I should. Revelation 1:  it would be good to be a well-informed and articulate speaker, as well as dancer.

New Idol: Donna Mejia. Her class was called Le Funk Araby, which I was attracted to for the promise of new playlists. But there was so much more! It was kind of a hip hop / pop and lock dance style, which means I am quite thankful there were no mirrors in the conference center to reflect my clueless-ness. For example, see this:

There's a long intro, skip to 2:15. I wore my wow face during her entire performance. She stopped time and held it at 5:40. And then sped it up at 7:15. How can a human do this? She can't. She's a goddess.

So, 3 classes in one day was a lot of dancing.... The next day I only had 2 classes.

Idolatress Extraordinaire: Tempest. I've taken a workshop with her before. Heck, I may have already heard some of this before. But it's an excellent reminder. Revelation 2: We are dancing to tell a story. It's not about looking sexy. (Also, Revelation 3: very sage belly advice - that avoiding performance until your belly looks the way you think it should is really just avoiding performance.) We did an exercise where we improvised to music and then told the group what we were imagining. I was kind of annoyed that my brain went into Hollywood pitch mode, "Goddess surveys the destruction of war in Sarajevo, meets cute boy. Scene!" whereas others had more details, or at least said them out loud. But I realized that I had used a similar approach (at least in my own head) when I was choreographing with Julee and Michelle for our trio at the Greek Fest, and that made me feel better.

Then, the athletic workout of Asharah! Seriously, two hours of shimmying on releve'. Ouch. But awesome ouch. I thought I had lost my shimmy, thanks to running and the IT band. But no, you can use your glutes. Thank goodness, as I reputedly have lots of glutes.

There were two shows. Friday night we saw our local tribal school dance (Boheme), which  was cool, and Saturday was the big gala craziness where Donna Mejia removed my brains and scrambled them, Tempest charmed them, and then Rachel Brice messed with the time-space continuum again and everyone was really awesome actually until Unmata killed me with this (again, from Tribal Fest, so different stage and audience, same performance). It's long and loud.

I know there's a lot of links here. But I want to share! It's an awesome world out there.

Lesson 2: Keep in touch. I had meals with some new friends, and some old friends, and it felt natural. No need to stress. Give love, get love, platitudes can be right.

I am sure the next 51 weekends will not compare, so I want to remember these things. I want to practice them. Happy half-year and summer.



I

Ta-daaaaa!

Well, the costuming frenzy is over for now. Here is one of the performances from our hafla last week. I made the tassel belt and harem pants that I wear. The sewing machine has been out since early October in almost constant use.

I learned a lot from this performance. In this video, I can spot plenty of screw-ups on my performance of the choreography. But good part is, I did not grimace. I did not stop. I looked the audience in the eye and said "Oh yeah?" I'm not really grimacing now that I see it after the fact, either. This is progress! I have "found whiz"!

For a minute, anyway. Always moving forward. I'd be interested in getting a serger, or just knitting for a while. What about making my own costume with beading? I would like to do a solo performance this year. Moving forward and BUILDING, not just another blank page.

I wish I had a video of the other group performance, with the other costume.

Okay, can I stop thinking about this now?

So, the "radiation" is done. The full body scan discovered that maybe I shouldn't have held that pill after all (4 additional views of my hand and hip, only to determine it was my hand that was "hot"). My throat feels kind of funny sometimes, but a glass of water or lemon drop usually fixes it right up. I declare it "cancer for creampuffs".

I know that it sounded scary, but nothing "really" happened to me. I mean, it was mostly the fear, and on that level, I guess I have experienced cancer. But the treatments and surgery were really easy for me. I am certain that other regimens are not that easy, and I know that I'm a baby. I learned a lot about my patients at work and even a few of my friends. Fear is not your pet or motivator. It's just crap.

So on to the crafts, I say! I'm working on a hat (for me, selfishly!!) and a belly dance bra. I will get pictures of the other 3 hats I've finished and the 10-10-10 scarf. But some of them are birthday presents, so it might be a little late breaking news. I hope to get pictures of the recipients wearing their gifts. I've also got plans for a some jewelry for another birthday girl.