Angel on My Shoulder

Last November, I signed up for some dance workshops.  At the time, I was practicing regularly, working on specific goals and plans.  I had my choice of Level 1 or Level 2 workshops, and, feeling confident, I chose Level 2.

Time passed, stuff happened, and my dance life fluctuated.  There were always classes or something going on, but my regular practice got jumbled.  I started to lose confidence, fueled by the return of my long habit of body hatred.  In my non-dance life, I was feeling more and more crushed by the essential loneliness of my life.  (That's how I saw it, at least.)  I recognized the gentle settling in of mild depression, so I greeted it and pushed on, feeling more fatigued every day.

In the midst of all this, as I prepared to travel to the workshops, I started to freak out a little bit.  Who did I think I was, signing up for the Level 2 workshops?  I saw some of the names of other participants, and I recognized a few of them as dancers who performed internationally.  How in the hell did I belong in the same room as them? My plan became to go, push through, stand in the back and try not to get in anyone's way.

A couple of days ago, the workshop organizer posted a notice saying that if anyone wanted to level down, there were people in Level 1 who wanted to switch to Level 2.  I sent her a message immediately.  And I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

About a half day later, I got her reply, which started with three simple words: "Are you sure?"

Yes.  Wait -- Was I?

I looked again at the expectations for Level 2 participants and realized that, yes, I met those expectations. I sat for a minute thinking about what I was hoping to get from this whole experience.  I knew that either level would be an excellent opportunity to study with 2 of my favorite teachers, and that I would get a ton of benefit from both.  But I remembered a quote someone posted on their Facebook wall:

If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?

― T.S. Eliot

So I sent a message back saying, basically, never mind.  I will stick with what I chose in the first place.  It's not that the self-doubt went away, it's just that I convinced it to come dancing with me.

Thank you again, Hilde, for being the Good Angel on my shoulder, and helping me see the way to jump in feet first.

To Whom It May Concern

I'm nearing the end of another improv dance challenge, and this song has been in my rotation for the past 90 days or so.  I dread it.  Not because it's a bad song -- I did like it well enough to purchase it, after all.  But because for me this has been a wallowing song.

A wallowing song is a song I put on when I am feeling depressed or overwhelmed and I would like to wallow in it a little bit before I go out into the world as if nothing has happened.  This particular song featured heavily in the Year of Wallowing, right after the divorce.  Because music is a powerful emotional trigger, every time I hear it I am taken back to that year.

The rules of the challenge dictated that once a song was selected for me, I was stuck with it for the entire challenge.  So every time this song came up on my rotation,  I tried to dance but ended up doing more wallowing.  I think I described the quality of my dance as "trying not to cry" every time.

This week, though, I think I finally shed the last edges of wallowing.  The day I danced this song, I was rushed, not thinking much, and I put it on and just started moving.  About halfway through I realized that I felt different.  I finally got to that other quality of the song -- the hopefulness and the optimism.   I relaxed with it because that is really my nature -- hopeful and optimistic.  It has been a weird, ridiculous, bad time in dating world lately, but that is only one part of life.  And eventually, I am sure, it will come around to the rest of my life, which is pretty good right now.

Meanwhile, why not sing about it ---

Bellydance Changes Lives

I love this picture.  This is me just about to do my first solo performance, clowning around with my travel mates who were all ready to go and support me.  The dance technique in this photo is questionable, but the joy is real.

Before bellydance, this picture would not have been possible.  To appear in front of camera-wielding people with nothing covering my abdomen or my upper arms?  And to spin around in front of them while laughing my face off? Unfathomable.

This is just one of the many ways bellydance has changed my life.  I've written about it before in this blog -- how it launched me into a freer exploration of the world around me, how it showed me the way to letting go, how it reopened the door to my other creative loves.

Later this week, troupe and I will be dancing at a festival in fabulous Las Vegas.  Dancing.  In public. For an audience.  In frickin' Vegas.  The me of 5 years ago would not recognize this woman, but she would want to know her.  Thanks to bellydance, I not only know this woman, I am her.

It's not been all flickery sunshine and dancing on rainbows, to be sure.  I've been clawing my way out of a pretty difficult dance rut lately, trying to find more moments of fun than frustration.  Even in the rut, though, I look at this picture and know that my life has changed.

And I have a short number of days and hours to drill some choreography and pack my bag.  Viva Las Vegas.

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Should you be so inclined to support your local blogger and her dance sisters, here's a message from the troupe:

Help Send Zahara Fusion to VEGAS, Baby!

Zahara Fusion, the student troupe out of Hip Circle Studio, is headed out on their first out-of-state performance adventure to the Las Vegas Bellydance Intensive - a festival that pulls dancers in from all over the country! Taking advantage of this great opportunity requires airfare, lodging, costuming, and more. Get in on the action by participating in our fundraiser! Here's the deal...

Donate $10 or more and receive a limited-edition "Bellydance Changes Lives" magnetic bumper "sticker" designed by our very own Desiree!

Donate $50 or more and receive, in addition to the bumper "sticker", an invite to our After-Vegas Bash, scheduled for Sunday, 9/20 from 7:30-9:30 pm featuring nibbles, sips, and a display of our set from Vegas (live or via video, TBD).

Donations can be made in cash in-studio, or via credit card here. (you'll specify the amount)

Thanks so much for helping this Vegas magic happen!

100 Days

Today is a day of celebration.  I am choosing to celebrate as I choose to do most things -- quietly.  Because I am celebrating not only accomplishments, but also clarity.  The accomplishments bring me great satisfaction, and the clarity comes tinged with sadness.

But first, the celebration:  thanks to my ever-supportive powerhouse of a friend, I just finished 100 days of dancing.  Every day for 100 days I danced, videoed the dance and took the time to reflect on the good, the bad and the growth.  I got to share those reflections on our Facebook group, on what quickly became known as the "Wall of Positivity."  Even through travel, exhaustion and difficult career decisions, I danced, videoed and wrote about it every day.  This is what happens when resolve, love, and community support come together.

And because things come together like that -- today I also found out that I passed the testing for the Initiation Phase of Rachel Brice's 8 Elements training.  Resolve, love, community, studying, and delicious Portland coffee.  I am growing into this new community of beautiful artists -- and though I am not yet comfortable calling myself an "artist," I am comfortable calling these wonderful women my dance sisters.

So now, as I am succeeding at these challenges, and accepting new ones, comes the clarity.  There is much in my world that is unnecessary and unfulfilling -- habits, objects, obligations, and, most difficult of all, people.  I have shed my interior skin, and now the exterior is shedding.  Piles of stuff are all around me, ready to be carted to thrift stores tomorrow.  Obligations I kept around for fear of their absence are being collapsed and soon gently let go.  And the people.  One by one, I am removing myself from the people.  People I hid behind, or used like some people use video games -- to distract myself.  People whose support was really a way of draining time energy and attention I should have used on something else.

Like dancing.  Because look what happens when you accept a challenge.  Time to face my fear of the next one, shed more layers, and do it.

Trampoline Life

I am at an airport again, phone off, headphones on, thinking of sweet things to pick up for dear friends.  It feels good -- this feeling of being zippered out of my life for a while, but keeping the zipper attached so I can fit myself back in.  Maybe.

It is more accurate, I think, to say I am starting to feel like a trampoline gymnast.  I do touch down, land, and land, and land again -- because gravity needs me to.  But the real work, the real beauty and flight happens between the landings.  The sins and flips, the turns, the mesmerizing views of a body spinning in space.  This arc up and then down -- that is where the real life is happening.  the landings are points to regroup, gather strength and pull on what I learned in my last flight before I launch myself again.

This.  This is the life I want.  A trampoline life.  And if someday I can do it all while holding the hand of someone who loves to fly almost as much as he loves me -- all the better.

But right now, this moment-- I am breathing into this moment and the freedom of being so much on my own.  No plans but those I make.  No need to answer to anyone unless I choose to.  It is the up side of loneliness -- this freedom.  I am arcing down from my latest flight, having changed and expanded while I was in the in air, glancing down I see my base gently moving towards me. I will sink into it with gratitude and collect all my energy until I am ready for the next jump.