You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Dancing’ category.
The other day as Bryan and I sat in the new local frozen yogurt shop eating our toppings-heavy desserts, I observed that every one of the employees in the brightly colored building looked to be 18 or younger, which for some reason made me think back to my pre-career days and the ups and downs of working as a teenager/young adult in retail.
With a B.A. in Communications/Writing under my belt since 2002, I’m an editor at a medical publishing company now, and my primary job is transforming peer-reviewed manuscripts into copyedited/proofread/presentable articles worthy of publication. But long before I resided in a cubicle from 8:30 to 5, M to F, I wore several different hats, “uniforms,” and almost never had to sit for 8 hours straight.
First Paid Gig: Choreographer
The summer before my freshman year of high school, the local community children’s summer theater sent out a notice asking for citizens to volunteer with various duties, such as supervision, costume-making, set design, and choreography. I had been choreographing fake shows and recitals in my living room since I was 8, so I jumped on the opportunity to work with live human beings. The show was Annie the Orphan, and not only was I co-choreographer but I was asked to be in the show as an extra orphan. I loved wearing ratty clothes and keeping my hair messy!
I worked with those kids 5 days per week for about a month and a half during the summer, and it was so rewarding to see them memorize the steps and then execute the routines together as a group. I was flattered when the show’s director paid me something like $100 at the end, even when I thought I was solely volunteering. I continued working with the group for a few more years until it was time for the torch to be passed to another eager freshman longing to be a choreographer.
Hanging out with my favorite mice from "Cinderella."
The cutest trio of boys performing the Lollipop Guild routine in "Oz."
Still, I held the title of “choreographer” for several years after leaving the children’s theater. I was asked to choreograph my first high school musical my sophomore year (Pirates of Penzance) and continued until I graduated (How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying) and then came back a few years after to choreograph Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a different high school.
One of my favorite dances, "Coffee Break," from "How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying." That's me on the right.
Every choreography gig I took on had its challenges (people who just couldn’t memorize steps, the difference between recorded music and a live orchestra), but the end result always gave me the goosebumps. I just loved seeing everything come together; no longer were there individual “steps”…everything was a performance.
I got to wear The Best Costume Ever during "Pippin."
First Retail Job: Eckerd Pharmacy
During the latter half of my high school years, I began working after-school/weekend hours as a navy-blue-shirt/khaki-pants-wearing sales associate at the local pharmacy. My primary responsibilities were working the cash register, stocking shelves, and changing price tags. Despite the minimum wage pay and the occasional wacakdoo coming in and kind of scaring me, I actually enjoyed the job, especially when I had a constant stream of customers.
I loved organizing, and beautifying the cold medicine aisle was one of my favorite duties; those skinny little Sudafed and Advil Cold & Sinus and Tylenol boxes were always tipping over like dominoes. A nice night for me was pulling up a plastic tote, sitting in front of the shelf, and getting each and every one of those little boxes on its feet again, stacked straight like soldiers on duty.
Every now and then, I’d work at the back register in the pharmacy department. This became one of my favorite assignments; it was certainly hectic at times, but I enjoyed answering the phone, getting people their prescriptions, and, at times, counting pills. The pharmacists were funny, easy-going, and good people all around. For me, the pharmacy was the VIP club of the store, and it was always my secret desire to get assigned back there.
Retail Experience #2: Old Navy
By the time I started college, I was interested in expanding my retail horizons. I was getting tired of stocking pill bottles and cigarettes, and I sought to work somewhere “cool.” With its pulsing store-wide music, bright colors, and relatively young clientele, Old Navy became my home-for-the-summer employer.
I wore a navy blue company t-shirt and got to sport a headset, which we used mostly to crack jokes about other employees or customers. I was too new to work the register, so I rotated between greeting people at the door, assisting in the fitting room, and maintaining general organization.
The job was kind of like a big party, but gradually it grew a little too big for me. I often felt like the managers were so concerned about pushing sales that the general appearance of the store was being ignored. I liked things spic-and-span, but a few items out of place were nothing if the dollars were rolling in.
That said, my favorite part of the job became “truck night,” those Friday nights when the store closed at 9 and a giant tractor trailer with new inventory rolled up and deposited boxes and boxes of new clothes. We’d lock the front doors, blast the radio, and go to our assigned spots to open boxes, tear off the protective plastic, slide hangers under every shirt collar, and begin the art of organization, arranging by style, color, size.
My OCD tendencies were pleased. Just like stacking those cold medicine boxes, I was happily engaged in the comforting repetition of organization.
Retail Experience #3: Store of Knowledge
Yet another summer between college years, and I did not want to return to the chaos that was Old Navy. My friend had been working at the Store of Knowledge at a different mall, so I applied to one at my local mall. The Store of Knowledge (now bankrupt) was the official retail store of public broadcasting stations across the country; I called it “the channel 12” store. It sold science and dinosaur toys, mind games and puzzles, and merchandise tied to all those PBS specials like The Three Tenors, Riverdance, and the Donny Osmond version of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Dressed in my khaki pants and store-assigned denim shirt (::shudder::) and black apron, I worked the register here and there but mostly helped customers as they browsed the store. My favorite assignment was working as the greeter; I’d stand at the front of the store and demonstrate some wacky new toy or gadget to passersby, being generally goofy and silly.
At one point, the store starting selling all of this “princess” merchandise, so I dolled myself up in a tiara, boa, and a magic wand and took on a whole new princess persona, complete with British accent and an air of royalty. I’d guide customers around the store as though they were visiting my kingdom; the kids (and parents!) loved it. It was the closest I’d ever get to being a Disney face character (one of my life-long dreams). (And no pictures from that gig, unfortunately.) đŸ˜¦
***
After the Store of Knowledge closed, I returned to Eckerd Pharmacy for another semester or two to fill in the gaps before real-life began. I tried never to work during the school season, mostly because I had a pseudo-job as an editor on the university newspaper (we got paid a stipend at the end of the year) and participated in theater and dance events, which took up a lot of my time. I also found a seasonal internship at a local newspaper, which was a great stepping stone to my career.
I got my first big-girl job the day after I graduated from college. Knowing what today’s college kids face, I feel especially lucky that I was hired for a full-time editing/writing position less than 24 hours after being handed my diploma.
What made the job even better was that the office was directly across the street from a birthday party center, and I was hired on an on-call basis to serve as the “Super Cool Dance Teacher” for children’s parties. Sometimes I’d leave the office during my lunch break, dart across the street, teach 8 to 12 kids a fun dance, put on a mock recital for the parents, and then return to the office by 1 to resume writing.
I worked at that office for 5 years before moving on to where I am now. I can’t skip across the street to be an on-call dance teacher anymore, but hey, at least I don’t have to wear a denim shirt.
What did you do before finding your first big-girl/big-boy job?
OK, for everyone out there not currently on spring break, my lord, was this week s-l-o-w or what?! Maybe it’s just because I have a super-fun weekend mapped out (drumming! dancing!) and am anticipating the excitement, but every day this week has felt like a ho-hum Tuesday.
But finally! Here we go. It’s Friday, it’s the 13th, and I have a hodge-podge list of five things that have peppered my (interminable!) week with some color and life.
(1) As if a nod to my I Am Woman post from a few weeks ago, my Old Lady Friendâ„¢ Carrol sent me the link to this video, 500 Years of Female Portraits in Western Art.
It’s a hypnotic 3-minute compilation of female art subjects through the centuries, edited artfully itself so that each image morphs into the next. To me, it’s visual art presented in a dance-like manner. It’s also just fun to see the painting styles and female figures transition as the years go by.
(2) Next isn’t a video but a blog that I am excited to add to my Google Reader: Dancemeditation.
The blog is maintained by Dunya Dianne McPherson, whose book, Skin of Glass: Finding Spirit in the Flesh, is currently on my nightstand. It’s been on my Amazon wishlist ever since I purchased Gabrielle Roth’s Sweat Your Prayers (which has essentially become my bible) and it popped up on my “You Might Like…” list.
Dunya is a former professional ballerina who turned to Sufism and now teaches her brainchild Dancemeditationâ„¢, “a unique, integrated movement meditation system for self-discovery, healing, and evolution.”
The way she writes about the human body is utterly fascinating and captivating, and it is hard not to roll my spine and rock my pelvis along to her words. They are the words of someone so at home with her body, so familiar with every tendon, vein, and cell within; some chapters have such a deep and sensual feel that they read more like erotic literature, a kind of “kinesthetic pornography,” perhaps.
This post on simple side-to-side rolling will get you moving.
(3) Switching gears, we now move to Main Street, U.S.A. for some Disney dancing!
Posted on Disney Parks’ official blog, this video features Barbara, a Walt Disney World cast member who has taken her role as Main Street hostess to a new level by just doin’ her thang during the daily parades. If I knew there was an opportunity out there for me to both (a) work in Disney World, and (b) dance my heart out every afternoon, then Barbara would be out of a job. … OK, so I’m a bit jealous, but I love Barbara for bringing dance and Disney together in the upbeat way she does. đŸ™‚
(4) The last two items go hand in hand. First is the 2011 Emmy-winning choreography “This Bitter Earth” from Mia Michaels, which appeared on Season 7 of So You Think You Can Dance.
I’m going through a bit of a SYTYCD drought here (still more than a month to go before Season 9 starts!), so I’ve been filling the holes by watching clips of past seasons on YouTube. This particular dance about aging is just so powerful, poignant, and kind of sad. It’s a hit-you-in-the-gut piece, no doubt why it was nominated for and won the Emmy. The three variations of a simple rocking motion at 1:14 are just beautiful.
(5) Staying on that theme of aging is the video that’s been going viral all over Facebook, “Man In Nursing Home Reacts To Hearing Music From His Era.”
As a dancer, music has such a profound role in my life, and it is so comforting to know that the brain has the ability to store the passionate, joy-filled memories associated with a particular tune. This man, described as “inert and unresponsive,” comes ALIVE when exposed to music from his younger years. His reactions at 4:00 and 5:15 are a bit Awakenings…but so hopeful and smile-inducing. And I love that there’s a whole movement behind this kind of therapy: http://www.musicandmemory.org!
Now this has me wondering…what music from “my era” would make me come alive 50+ years from now? Hmm…
Comment with an online video/website/photo that’s been stirring your soul lately!
Oprah always made “aha!” moments sound so inspiring and colorful and uplifting, but sometimes an “aha!” moment makes you feel like crap.
My depressing “aha!” moment happened the other day, as I was expressing to a friend my great interest in airplanes:
“The funny thing is, I am obsessed with big planes but I’m actually afraid of flying.”
The enormity of this sentence hit me as soon as the words escaped my mouth. Was I actually talking about Lufthansa and FedEx jets, or was I just exposing a deep, shameful layer of my inner being, that I am obsessed with grand ideas but too much of a scaredy cat to get them off the ground?
After all, “planes” is “plans” with just one extra letter.
The parallels are almost frightening. Take the airplane thing. I love the structure of planes, their sleek design, the technology that allows them to take off and land, to straighten themselves out on a windy day. The choreography of flight patterns, the ballet of metal birds in the clouds, a giant football play sheet in which the Xs and Os are instead 737s and DC-10s.
I learn the lingo, expand my vocabulary, noting that the call sign for U.S. Air is “Cactus” and how the final three steps of an airplane’s arrival are termed “downwind,” “base,” and “final.” My Netflix history shows that I’ve watched documentaries about American Airlines and Air Force One, and I’ve confessed to hiding in a corner in Barnes & Noble, a magazine about commercial airliners between my legs.
But when it comes time for me to fly, I clutch Bryan’s hand as we barrel down the runway and dare not breathe when the plane’s wheels leave the ground. I don’t get sick over flying, but I don’t necessarily enjoy it, either.
I wish I could say I plaster myself against the window and spend every moment in the sky being utterly amazed that, well, I’m in the mother f****n’ sky, but the truth is that I peek out the window with trepidation, afraid that me shifting a few inches to the right will somehow cause the whole aircraft to lurch, and soon we’ll be spiraling out of control through the clouds, all because of my natural desire to fully enjoy the moment of being in flight.
My real-life planes plans are not much different. I think of yoga, how when I was first introduced to it in 2005, I fully immersed myself in all things asana. I subscribed to Yoga Journal, reading each article several times in an effort to memorize the lingo, the Sanskrit that holds the practice together. I attended workshops and master classes, admiring the instructors and their effortless poses, taking notes, itching to become an expert.
I was in love with the details, the schematics. I went to flight school (yoga teacher training). How I loved being around all these seasoned pilots! My fellow students and I talked the talk, stayed up late into the night to share notes and fantasies of flight. We doodled our own flight plans, imaging how one day we’d soar to new heights.
But then when it came time for my test flights, I always felt like I was sputtering and swinging aimlessly between clouds. The feeling of ascending was not as gratifying as I had envisioned. The moment I got my pilot’s license, I already knew deep inside that I didn’t want to fly.
It’s not much different today. I think, I could organize a lunch-hour dance party at my office, I could learn to teach dance to older adults, I could do this training and make movement my second career.
I have surrounded myself with books and blogs and images of dancing, scurrying off to class after class, fascinated with the details, colors, and nuances of movement, painting pictures in my mind of my body as an airplane, a bird, an angel far above this earth. Sometimes during a class I rush across the studio floor and take off, but the flight is never more than an out-and-back.
I feel like somewhere in my notes and doodles and vocabulary there is a flight plan for a trans-Atlantic journey, but the question is whether I’ll ever work up the courage to sit down in the cabin with courage and allow myself to look out that window without fear of falling out of the sky.
Descending into Lhasa, 2006
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes
And leap…It’s time to try defying gravity
I think I’ll try defying gravity
And you can’t pull me down.~ “Defying Gravity,” Wicked
(Note. This post is dedicated to Meg from Spirit Moves Dance, who is already on her way to 35,000 feet and has no intention of lowering her landing gear anytime soon. :-))
I’ve been dancing the 5Rhythms for two years now, but this past Saturday’s class felt like I entered a new realm of movement and expression, as though the past 24 months have been Level 1 of a video game, and only now have I been given the key to the secret portal.
I’m really struggling to put into words the pure awesomeness of my dance this weekend. And I’m a writer, so this means I’m dealing with some intense sh*t. I just keep imagining that scene from Contact when Jodie Foster stares out the spaceship window at the golden galaxy of stars, moons, and planets swirling around her, and all she can stammer is, “They should have sent a poet.”
Yoga people, you probably understand this. You know that moment after you’ve been practicing for a few years, and then you have a yoga “experience?” And you’re like Woah. And then something even more Woah happens in your body and breath, and you’re like, “WOAH, I get this now!”
Kinda like that.
Here are the tangibles: The class was held in an amazing restored warehouse with the brightest of bright sunshine streaming through the windows, warming up the expansive studio and causing our sweat to glisten like diamonds.
The guest teacher was Daniella Peltekova, a 5Rhythms teacher from NYC whose Bulgarian heritage blessed her with an exotic accent that, for me, sounded like a saucy hybrid between Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz. Every word she spoke was a verbal expression of Flowing. Her instructions filled the studio like water filling a tub for a warm bubble bath, and I just wanted to soak it all up.
The experience was surreal. When I first entered the studio, I felt like Alice walking into Wonderland. The room was warm, radiating with sunshine, the music was already pulsing, bodies were spinning and flowing around me.
Daniella played bass-filled, earthy, sensual music, punctuated here and there by loudness and softness, just the right combination of melodies and sounds and lyrics that I exhausted myself by the end of class because I wanted so badly to dance to every song.
Halfway during class, as we all sat sweating and glistening and drunk on dance, Daniella poised herself next to a shaft of sunlight and spoke of the beautiful space, the wicked sunlight around us, the full moon, Easter and Passover and things rising and coming to life. She noted that we were out of winter’s cold and darkness, the light is here (oh my it was), and that we didn’t have to do anything but be receptive. “The light is already here; just receive it,” she encouraged us in her Flowing voice.
I felt like a born-again Christian, but not quite sure of my religion. The words comforted me so deeply, I felt them rattle my soul, I wanted to believe but didn’t know what to believe in. Everything within me screamed Hallelujah! but instead of praying we danced, danced, and danced.
(cue the non-tangibles)
Daniella began a new round of Flowing from the floor, on our backs, instructing us to move just the hands, feel our flesh, explore our body’s largest organ. We roll onto our bellies, and from there I observe my loose strands of hair illuminated in the sunshine, doing their own wispy dance to the whir of the overhead fan.
The adventure into Wonderland continued, my body gliding by others, my arms intertwining with those of strangers, our audible, sharp Staccato breaths engaged in a dual of inhalations and exhalations. Palm to palm we gently push and guide and use our single hand to initiate a twisted tango.
Over and over again in my mind, I ask, “Where am I?” The light coming in the giant windows is blinding; I squint long enough to watch a woman across the street on her front porch paint a shelf, and my arms unconsciously imitate her strokes inside the studio. Up and down. Up and down.
Every song that plays is like one of Alice’s “Drink Me” bottles, and I gulp and gulp and struggle for a breath and gulp some more. Down the rabbit hole I dance; where the hell am I going? Is this a portal to reality? Or is it my imagination?
(See this video for an idea of how I felt for much of the class.)
When Florence + the Machine’s live version of “You’ve Got the Love” with Dizzee Rascal blasts through the room, I am thrust into reality because I am dancing so hard that I realize I am gasping for air, my face flushed. OK, yes, lungs. Lungs need oxygen, and this is real.
Reality stuns me again as I briefly partner with an older woman whose overarched feet, willow-like arms, and elongated neck are a dead giveaway of her former life as a classically trained ballerina, and I suddenly feel like I am dancing in front of a mirror of time, an image of me in 30+ years projected right in front of my eyes. I see her age, wisdom, the muscle memory in her calves and shoulders and torso, and I am her and she is me. For the briefest of moments I want to cry, an innocent, profound urge coming deep from my heart, one of pure lightness.
It is a wonderful encounter, and an invitation to see all of my other fellow dancers in the same light. Although my brain had trouble processing much of the class and labeled the whole experience as some kind of wacky adventure into Wonderland, in my heart, the afternoon felt like poetry, something more along the lines of this:
My favorite dance blogger Meg used to do a series called “Inspiration Tuesday,” and each week she’d post a collection of interesting/beautiful/inspiring stuff from the internet.
Her blogging focus has since changed and the series is no longer, but there is still inspiring stuff out there! I have links and I want to share!
(1) The video “Gestures,” featured on the Colors in Motion® “Experiences” website. It’s dance, watercolor, and music all meshed into one beautiful experience.
I found the site through (2) Kripalu’s blog, Thrive, also a link worth bookmarking. A note to whomever moderates this blog dedicated solely to Kripalu-related endeavors: You have my dream job. If you ever hit the jackpot, retire, or move on to a new career, please shoot me an e-mail, PLZOKTHX.
For more videos like Gestures, see Colors in Motion’s Touchstone page. (I’m particularly fond of August’s “Light Dances.”)
(3) Another video that has pleased my neurons is “Moments,” featured on Everynone.com, which I gave a shout-out to previously for their “Laughs!” video.
“Moments” is slightly longer and a bit more emotional. It reminds me of a miniature version of Life in a Day, a full-length movie compiled from YouTube clips from around the world. They are both reminders that ordinary moments are extraordinary when you look at them with mindfulness and awe.
(4) The next video I found via the Let Your Yoga Dance Facebook page. Never, ever say you can’t dance because you have two left feet.
(5) Finally, I am tipping my proverbial hat to Lucia Rose Horan, a 5Rhythms master teacher who I am ecstatic to be taking class with next weekend. Watch her let loose here.
Comment with an online video/website/photo that’s been stirring your soul lately!
Not many people like being photographed from behind, but living with a photographer, I am used to hearing the shutter flutter whenever my backside is facing him.
Sorry, Sir Mixalot, not like that. More like this:
The photos above are all from our 2006 trip to China, when every step I took was the beginning of an adventure into the unknown, whether it be onto an airplane leaving the Tibetan plateau, a wooden pathway through the luscious greenery of Jiuzhaigou Valley, or aboard the dingiest water vessel I have ever set foot on.
Caught in time is one foot in front of the other, a poetic symbol of a journey about to begin. I am not posed, but I am poised.
I wish images like this could be captured each time I walk into a 5Rhythms practice, but then there’d be photo after photo after photo—millions of photos—because sometimes I feel like it’s not just stepping inside the studio that’s the beginning of a journey but each individual step within the 2- or 3-hour class that has me embarking on a new adventure, exploring unfamiliar terrain.
One minute I’m throwing my body across the room in a frenzy of Chaos, and then—just like that—I find my center and twirl around myself like a whirling dervish.
I lean against the wall, roll on the floor.
Slide up next to a woman with a bum knee sitting in a folding chair and engage in a seated version of dancing.
My hands and feet are claws, then feathers.
My face dances as we pair up for a dueling Staccato, one person exclaiming “Yes!” and the other “No!”…
…The sensation of hearing my voice during a dance class is both foreign and exhilarating.
I glissade with a partner as though she and I are ballerinas; when partnered with a male to the same music, we are friendly warriors, all angles with a touch of lightness.
Stillness comes, and I think I don’t want to go on the floor, but without thought I am soon on the floor, curled up like a fetus, expanding like a stretching cat.
I am breathing audibly, entranced by the soft music my lungs have created for me.
So many snapshots, so many destinations in one class. With each step, I have boarded a plane, skipped through a grassy field, balanced myself on railroad tracks, jumped into the ocean, fallen off a cliff. Where will my next step take me?
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
~Lao-tzu
At the conclusion of a recent 5Rhythms class, one of my fellow dancers shared with the group that she loves class because “I feel safe to be a child again.”
I understood what she was saying—5Rhythms is a space to be playful, uninhibited, curious, and spontaneous—but I was feeling something much different that night.
5Rhythms doesn’t make me feel like a child. It makes me feel like a woman.
The week leading up to class, I had been privately mulling over at what point in her life a female comfortably begins referring to herself as a “woman” (particularly a female who has not yet carried a child or given birth, which I imagine would be the tipping point for being comfortable calling oneself a woman). For instance, if I am writing up a blog bio, I struggle over what noun to use after “Jennifer is a 31-year-old ____.” Girl? Gal? Chica? Saying “woman” feels so…adult. So mature.
Most of the time, I do not feel like a “woman.” I am obsessing over big airplanes, spilling cereal and yogurt all over my cubicle, laughing about butt jokes, and dreaming about Disney World.
But during 5Rhythms…that is when I feel like a woman. Certain music, certain movers will extract that essence out of me, and I feel wise, vibrant, strong, feminine, proud, daring. There is a head-to-toe, bone-to-muscle-to-blood connection with myself, and I feel so whole, so womanly, so pure.
So Pure, just like Alanis Morissette in her music video of the same name. I have fun, I let loose, I sweat and open up and become the dancer that has always lived inside of me.
I am still replaying in my mind the moment during Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” when I was dancing on my own, my arms rising above my head to the lyrics “In the arms of an angel….,” and suddenly from behind me, another’s arms linked through mine, now intertwined like angel’s wings. My feet were solidly planted on the floor, but I felt miles above the earth. We remained paired together in the final stretch of Stillness, a wordless song that was eloquent, fierce, passionate, sad, and intense all wrapped into one. I gave myself fully into the movement in a way that no “girl” could do; this was the dance of a woman.
During the sharing circle after class, I began to blush as others in the group commented about being fascinated with our movement, how they loved watching the two of us dance together. Some even thought we were part of a modern dance troupe! One woman had very nice words to say about how watching us was like watching two spirits completely connected with each other.
It was all so overwhelming to take in (I have always had a hard time being complimented on my natural talents) but also so so so so very much appreciated. I had not felt this way since 2006, when during my Kripalu yoga teacher training Megha and I danced our separate solos together at the back of Shadowbrook Hall as Linda Worster performed at the front. That night, a few of my classmates kept showering me with compliments about how beautiful I was to watch.
Despite the words making me smile and squirm at the same time, the compliments from both my YTT and 5Rhythms classmates were a touching reminder that I am still a dancer, despite not practicing in a studio or wearing pointe shoes.
Likewise, even though I don’t necessarily feel “grown up,” dancing has certainly given me comfort in my femininity and allowed me to move beyond the boundaries of girlhood.
Thank you 5Rhythms, for making me feel like a woman.
I want to be naked, running through the streets
I want to invite this so-called chaos, that you’d think I dare not be
I want to be weightless, flying through the air
I want to drop all these limitations and return to what I was born to be.
~ Alanis Morissette, “So-Called Chaos”
Just as Alanis Morissette’s album So-Called Chaos is not one of her strongest, when it comes to 5Rhythms, the third rhythm of Chaos is also not one of my favorites. Still, the workshop I attended last weekend revolved around that theme, so I had to take Alanis’ advice and “drop all [my] limitations.”
Chaos intimidates me for two reasons: (a) Sometimes I get way too swept up in the commotion and lose track of all the body parts I am supposed to be mindful of (e.g., my hip) and end up hurting myself; and (b) Sometimes I just cannot sink into the chaos and feel like an outsider slinking around the room as everyone around me is lost in trance.
These fears are easily translated to life outside of a formal 5Rhythms class. Sometimes I take on too much at once–pin too many responsibilities to myself–and before I know it, I am forgetting to pee, forgetting to eat, forgetting to breathe—ultimately hurting myself. That’s a real-life example of the first fear above. A real-life example of the second fear is walking the streets of Manhattan and being unable to meld with the chaos of NYC, being scared of the loudness, the bright lights, the throngs of people, the smells, speeding taxis, and towering skyscrapers, seeing everyone around me mysteriously immersed in the chaos but myself unable to get swept up in the chaotic flow.
So I was ever-so-grateful when the workshop teacher had us approach Chaos from gentler origins, asking us to enter Chaos from a more flowing perspective. We stood on one side of the room and danced our way across the floor, beginning with flowing movement and then–as the music intensified–gradually transitioned to more Chaos-inspired movement while still maintaining a Flowing undercurrent. She challenged us to stay connected to the Flowing, not to let the more jarring Staccato dominate the body.
Coming from this perspective, Chaos felt wonderfully natural and actually enjoyable. I liked being mindful of the transition, breathing into the more quick-paced movement. When my dance had actually achieved an authentic “Chaos” status, I was still connected to my body and didn’t feel so wildly out of control. I was still letting go but very aware of everything around me.
I had to remember this instruction later in the class during a regular Wave. The music transitioned from a Staccato into a Chaos song, and it wasn’t long before everyone around me was thrashing, spinning, eyes rolling into the back of their heads. But I was stuck in neutral and just couldn’t move myself into the Chaos. Again, it was like standing in Times Square, petrified that I just did not fit into all of the urban commotion around me. I wanted so much to be part of the chaos but didn’t know how to let go.
That’s when I remembered the instructor’s guidance from earlier, to enter Chaos from Flowing. So I undulated my spine, my arms. I sneaked in closer to my chaotic classmates, trying to feed off their energy. I weaved in and out and around of their bopping bodies, deeply breathing in all of the madness. Soon enough, I felt the energy rise through me, and I became part of the Chaos. I was swept up naturally in the energy around me, and my body was satisfied to enter its chaotic state without being forced.
The workshop was perfectly timed, because the following week at work, I got sucked into a massive project that basically had (and still has) my entire office in a state of chaos. I had been resisting the responsibilities for a while, but with my newly learned wisdom from 5Rhythms, I allowed myself flow into the tasks, settling comfortably into my chair, plugging my earbuds into my ears, and swaying along to my favorite songs as I sunk into the chaotic database work that consumed most of my days.
Resistance is futile, so why not just breathe, unclench your fingers and toes, and dance mindfully into the chaos?
Bonus link: Just a few days before this workshop, the blog Zen Habits featured this post, entitled “The Unpredictable Freedom and Sweetness of Chaos.” đŸ™‚
I know I am going to regret posting this the second I hit publish, but it’s about damn time I post a video of me dancing on this here dance-centric blog.
I remember being so excited when one of my favorite dance bloggers, Meg, first stepped in front of the camera in this post. I was reading about her wonderful dancing all of the time but until then never actually saw it in person. A few weeks later, she’s all like, “OK, I’m going to dance for y’all three times a week!” and started doing all of these cool experimental dance videos.
I came home from the office today with an intense desire to dance. I’m in the middle of this crazy work project that has me validating a database of nearly 600 of our archived articles, and so all day, every day for the past week I’ve been hunched over my computer like a 21st-century Bob Cratchit. The only thing keeping me going is my iPod and music–lots of sweet, sweet music. The only problem with listening to music all day is that my body wants to play along. I occasionally do a head roll here and a finger flick there, but otherwise I’ve had to resort to foot tapping and some torso bopping, when inside all of my muscles and bones and heart and soul just want to DANCE!
So upon coming home today, I went a little crazy in my living room. Unleashed the pent-up junk and–thanks to Florence + The Machine–just shook it all out. (God, I love that song!)
But then I got a little serious.
Because I’m a bit shy about just letting the world see me dance in my living room, I wanted my first video to be a little…mysterious. And by mysterious, I actually mean “I’m Not Going to Face the Camera and I’m Going to Dance in An Intentionally Dark Room in Silhouette.”
I also wanted to explore the concept of upper-body dancing. A lot of people say they can’t dance because they have “two left feet.” OK then, so try dancing with your arms!
Dancing is so much more than steps or counts or choreography. To me, dancing is the kinesthetic equivalent of writing poetry or singing a ballad. Sometimes you thrash. Other times the movement is ever so subtle. Particularly in the practice of 5Rhythms, the final rhythm of Stillness is sometimes no more than a slow gesture or even mindful inhalations and exhalations.
This is actually the second of two videos I shot dancing to this music (Hans Zimmer’s “Time” from Inception, FYI). I didn’t like the first because it felt so forced. The second I knew the camera was rolling, my movement suddenly became all rigid and inauthentic. (Also, my stellar videography skills had me cutting off my hands whenever I reached them upward, which was not ideal for an “upper-body” video.)
So I tried again, this time with a partner. (OK, so my partner was a set of curtains, so what?)
This is an experiment in the dance of Stillness (with a little bit of other stuff thrown in).
Truth be told, I still don’t like the video 100%. I feel the camera transforms me into “performer” mode, and that isn’t me anymore. I need someone to sneak a camera into one of my 5Rhythms classes. Also, please disregard the crap music quality, the Boeing 737 model on the table, and the cell phone chirping somewhere near the end. (I know, I know, I’m such a freakin’ pro over here.)
I’m going to shut up already and post the video.
I was supposed to attend an African dance class this afternoon, as I so excitedly gushed about last week, but I ended up on my living room floor doing this instead:
This is what happens when you’re in your 30s. You spend a Saturday shoe shopping–bending down, standing up, lugging a heavy bag around DSW–and the next day your shoulders and back are all f**ked up and you have to decide whether to take the dance class and risk hurting yourself further or stay home and do an hour of therapeutic yoga instead.
While I’m on the subject, let me just say that the above DVDs have my 100% total approval, and if you have any issues with your low/upper back, sacrum, hips, neck, or shoulders, these are most definitely something to have in your media library. My first experience with Gary Kraftstow was about 1.5 years ago, when I was looking for some kind of relief for my bum hip. I was browsing Netflix’s selection of yoga DVDs and read several good reviews about the low back/sacrum/hips workout, and let’s just say that I watched that DVD so many times that I probably have ownership rights to it now. I eventually returned the disc to Netflix and bought the DVD online, later buying the upper body one to complete the collection.
I recommend these DVDs all.the.time. If you tell me you have a back problem, you can bet I will be throwing Gary Kraftstow’s name in your face. The thing about Viniyoga is that it’s designed to be therapeutic, kind of like a physical therapy regimen but with yoga postures. Each of the DVDs has three routines, ranging from 20-something minutes to about 50, and each workout is crafted specifically to help the affected area; the postures are meant to be done in the order they are presented. There is nothing fancy about the workouts, no bells and whistles, no music, no candles, no om’ing in and chanting out, no studio full of yoga models sporting the latest Lulu. It’s either a man or woman doing the postures and Gary’s voiceover giving the instructions. It’s boring as hell…but very effective, just like physical therapy.
If you are diligent about the practice and do the workout(s) regularly, I can almost guarantee you will feel progress/relief (however, I am not a health care practitioner, and this is just my 2 layperson’s cents). I did the low back one almost daily for about a month, because at the time my hips were all kinds of crooked and my sacroiliac joint was always popping one way or the other. I didn’t always feel relief immediately after doing the workout, but throughout the day I would feel things settling into place. Like today, I do a workout anytime I feel “out of sorts,” when my body feels like a car that’s driven over one too many potholes. Nine times out of 10, something in my sacrum/neck/spine always gives a desirable pop or crack of relief when I rise from savasana.
So, no African dancing for me this week but I had a nice, long date with Mr. Kraftstow (did both a low back AND shoulders routine!) and did these dancey-dance things instead:
• Subscribed to Conscious Dancer magazine.
• Discovered Nia and Dharma Dance teacher Susan McCulley’s blog, on which she posts some excellent playlists that have made their way to my Grooveshark menu.
• Discovered the music of Cryptex, which made me dance so much that now I’m certain the floor in our 80-something-year-old house is going to fall through.
Flowtation Devices 