Flowtation Devices

Heel clicks and hoodies

Wednesday, February 29, 2012 in 5Rhythms, Dancing | Tags: 5rhythms, ballet, dance academy, heel clicks, the wire | Leave a comment

Dude, there is a lesson for just about everything on eHow.com.

Need to learn how to click your heels a la jolly leprechaun style? Here you go.

Why am I even looking up Irish heel clicks to begin with? Maybe because I was doing them this past Friday, during 5Rhythms. Despite telling myself that I needed to tone down my movement during class and take it easy (my hip was acting up), there was this twangy upbeat techno country song playing–sounded kind of like “Cotton Eyed Joe” on speed–and…and…I just couldn’t help it. I pictured myself with a cowboy hat on my head and bandana around my neck, clicking my spurs together in the air with a little “Yee-haw!”

Miraculously, my hip survived. Sometimes 5Rhythms is a bit magical, the way I can enter class feeling like an old woman but emerge 2 hours later feeling sprite and lively. (The caveat is that I always have to stretch, use my foam roller, and sometimes ice after class. Then the class is magical. :-))

Here are some other observations from Friday’s class:

• I’m so done with forcing or faking movement if I’m not into a song or just not feeling the energy at the moment. It’s tempting to make yourself keep moving when everyone else around you is having a good time, but sometimes I just don’t feel that vibe and continuing to dance feels unnatural and unauthentic. When this feeling starts to creep up on me, I start from scratch, taking a deep inhalation and exhalation and bring the movement only into my hands or maybe my feet. I start small, just allowing my fingers to dance or my toes to wiggle. What I usually find is that pushing this metaphorical “reset” button brings me back into authentic movement more so than faking it till I make it.

• The hoodie is quickly becoming my standard 5Rhythms “uniform.” Not only does it keep me warm on winter nights, but it totally brings out my gansta alter ego whenever a rap or R&B song comes on. There may have been some crotch-grabbing the other night. (Side note: Currently watching The Wire on Netflix most def contributes to this personality transformation.)

• If you see me standing by the speakers, it is probably because I am distracted. If there is some kind of commotion going on in the space that’s affecting my concentration, I find that standing directly by the music source reigns me in and hypnotizes me back into focus.

• It’s OK to “form dance” every now and then. I try not to worry about form and shapes in a 5Rhythms class, but sometimes–especially after obsessively watching Dance Academy day in and day out–a girl just needs to slip back into ballerina mode for a song or two and do a few port de bras and penchees.

Lessons in LOLing

Monday, February 27, 2012 in Breathing, Class Reviews, Yoga | Tags: laughing, laughter yoga | 5 comments

Last Friday, I posted this message on Facebook and Twitter:

I’m getting my semi-annual “I’m losing control of my life” panicky feeling where a million things happen at once & I start to withdrawal 😦

Now, realistically, things aren’t that out of control. I have friends who are doing a ton more than me or who are going through some huge life issues, and I should just be counting my blessings that I’m not in grad school or caring for an insomniac toddler or having to approach HR about taking family medical leave (all real-life instances among my circle of friends). For the most part, the panic is just all in my head, and I’m letting stupid things get to me. I’m sweating the small stuff.

That’s why when I found out that Laughter Yoga leader Bob Pileggi was coming to town again, I knew I had to attend his class. I took one of his classes back in October, and the effects were immediate. It’s no secret that taking in more oxygen makes you feel good, and that’s the whole point of Laughter Yoga: to loosen up, open the lungs, work the diaphragm, and BREATHE! Suck in the air, let it out, and feel the ripple effects of all those sweet inhalations and exhalations. Everyone’s heard of a runner’s high, and it’s not that far off from the feeling one gets after Laughter Yoga. You get that same oxygen-induced buzz–almost a giddiness–minus the disgusting sweat and painful shinsplints.

I’m not going to go into too much detail about the class this time around; most of the exercises and my reaction to them are described here.

This particular class, however, had significantly more people, which certainly added to the experience. There were more eyes to connect with, more bellies to watch shaking. I even joked that one man had to have been the paid “decoy” because he was just so committed to the practice, his eyes twinkling, his laugh so hearty that every time I heard it I couldn’t help but double over myself.

We closed class by lying on our backs, our legs propped up comfortably on several folded yoga blankets, with just one instruction from Bob: “When I say ‘start,’ begin laughing and don’t stop until I say so.” What usually happens is that the first few seconds are a bit forced, simply a physical practice of vocalizing and pumping the belly. Then comes that tipping point, the moment at which something–usually someone’s cute little giggle or a bowl-full-of-jelly Santa Claus rumble–just sets everyone off, and the scale tips toward the truly authentic, gut-busting laughter. And I don’t mean a texting “LOL,” I’m talking about LOLFR–laughing out loud fer realz. Head thrown back/back arched/eyes crinkled laughing, the kind you get when it’s late at night, you’re a bit slap-happy, and you and a friend decide to apply Transformers tattoos on each other:

Bob always starts class by asking us to check in with our bodies and mind, to list on a scale of 0 to 10 how present and open we feel. I came into class as a 3 and just an hour and 15 minutes later was boosted to an 8. To tell you the truth, I’m always pretty resistant at the start of any kind of class, but I kind of see these endeavors as “therapy,” and know that by the end I will usually feel a million bucks better. Actually, even just a few minutes into class–after some simple deep-breathing exercises and a bit of meditation–I was already shedding my armor.

I used the lessons from the class later in the evening, when I was forced to park blocks away from the take-out restaurant where I was picking up my dinner. The walk I didn’t mind; it was the frigid wind chill that initially had me shouting expletives in the wind. I tried trading a f*** for a chuckle, and you know what? It made me feel better. Not warmer or less windblown, but just a little better.

Ever think of just laughing off a particularly annoying situation?

I could probably do this every morning on my drive to work, when I’m almost always stuck behind a slow-moving school bus/garbage truck/oil tanker.

Stomping with Staccato

Sunday, February 26, 2012 in 5Rhythms, Dancing | Tags: 5rhythms, partnerwork, staccato | 4 comments

I really surprised myself last weekend. I left the house rather reluctantly on Sunday for a 3-hour 5Rhythms workshop; despite being told last month that Staccato–the focus of the class–was my dominant rhythm, I entered the space with a rather ho-hum attitude.

I even had a pep talk with myself right before class, strolling along the grounds outside and telling myself to go in there and dance. Just dance!, I urged myself. Stop thinking so much about the people, the music, these other extraneous factors.

Maybe the talk helped. Or maybe it was the way I started class, lying on my back, staring up at the vaulted wooden ceiling, struck by how much it resembled the ceiling in the Main Hall at Kripalu, the place in which I told myself just to “Remember.” With that mantra and memory in the forefront of my mind, I was encouraged to dance how I danced at Kripalu–no fear, no inhibition, no holds barred.

What happened was that I had one of the BEST 5Rhythms experiences ever. Seriously, even today, 6 days after the fact, I am still daydreaming back to those 3 hours on the dance floor.

Our space.

Here are some of the highlights, by rhythm:

Flowing

I partnered up with a woman with a grand smile and big, inquisitive eyes. We exchanged names. As the music started, she stood in place, hands pressed together in anjali mudra, acknowledging me by touching her hands to her forehead, her heart. For the most part, I stood in place as well, flowing in and out like a spider plant in a breeze. The music swelled, my partner’s eyes widened, and she said “Woah…,” and then I felt it too: a sudden ball of energy between us. We glided back and forth, eyes connected, a curious connection holding us together. The song was short but the dance was glorious, and when we drifted apart my partner looked blown away by something I could not see, maybe an aura or energy field. She confided that she needed a break after that and stepped aside to regroup.

Later, I found out that this was the song we found so magnetic. It’s always best to learn that you’re dancing to a generic British boy band AFTER the fact.

Staccato

For an exercise in this rhythm, we paired up and were instructed to execute three sharp movements for our partner while they stood still. Then the partner reciprocated with his own three movements: BOOM BOOM BOOM. POW POW POW. We did this exchange for a while and then gradually melded it into one dance, so we were no longer pausing: BOOM POW BOOM POW BOOM POW. I was paired with a man relatively new to me, but we got in each others’ faces like thugs in a love/hate relationship. It was during this time I remembered that yes, I really do think Staccato is my favorite rhythm!

Later, our instruction for Staccato was to focus on our feet. For the most part, my partner was confined to the floor, giving his bum knee some rest. Still, we made the dance happen. Even with one person sitting, it is possible to stomp, shuffle, flick the toes, and engage in a give-and-take of ankles, toes, and arches.

Chaos

Sometimes in Chaos I am all over the place, running in circles, leaping, whipping through the room. This time my Chaos was mostly in place, a head-to-toe vibration that had me shaking and gyrating, lost in time and space with my eyes closed. I became so lost in movement that I had no idea of where I was in space; I thought I was facing the front of the room, but when I opened my eyes I was standing somewhere completely different. Woah.

Lyrical

The lyrical dance I shared with my partner was perhaps one of the most passionate, present pas de deuxs I’ve ever had in 5Rhythms. The song was Fiona Apple’s “Slow Like Honey,” and there was twirling, slithering, crawling, clawing, and grasping. At one point, my feet nearly left the ground, clinging onto my partner’s shirt as he spun me around and around. It was a big moment for me, because I tend to build these walls around me, and I don’t allow many people to get my full attention via dance. So it was an accomplishment for me but also a reminder that I am not a contestant on “So You Think You Can Dance,” and my body cannot always move the way I want it to. And that is perhaps why my hip hurt for the whole drive home and I needed to return to the post-activity Advil for the first time in a while.

Stillness

Ever since starting tai chi classes 3 weeks ago, Stillness is becoming a more intense rhythm for me to work with. We “hold the ball” a lot in tai chi, and I’ve begun incorporating that into my dancing, just the notion of harnessing prana/chi/qi and being aware of the subtle flow of energy throughout the body. More and more, I find myself ending a 5Rhythms class standing, rather than lying on the floor in savasana. I find that by the end of class I feel very grounded, and I like ending my session with my feet firmly rooted, a final sinking in.

What kind of mover do you consider yourself: Flowing, Staccato, Chaos, Lyrical, or Stillness?
I’ve always thought of myself as Flowing, but there is significant Staccato influence in my movement. I love to go back and forth between balletic and B-Boy-esque.

When I grow up

Monday, February 20, 2012 in 5Rhythms, Dancing, Yoga | Tags: 5rhythms, aging, resilience, role models | 3 comments

Being an editor for a publication about gerontological health care, not a day goes by that I don’t read something about aging. Cognitive impairment, mobility limitations, incontinence, falls, digestive/musculoskeletal problems…all sobering stuff. Sometimes I let it get to me, and I think, Holy crap, I am 31 years old. In this era of technological achievements, it is very possible that I could live two.more.cycles of my current lifetime. And while research is certainly advancing and more and more therapies, treatments, and interventions are being developed, aging is still aging, and even the most expensive procedures or drugs can’t stop the human body from…changing.

…

I struggled with the last word of that last sentence, changing. I originally wanted to type deteriorating, failing, or decaying, but those are all such negative words. For some older adults, even those whose bodies are gradually shutting down, a shift in perspective prevents them from falling into a pit of hopelessness. This mindset–resilience–“is an important concept to consider as the life span increases so [health care providers] can coach older adults in attaining life-course perspectives that help them maintain positive adaptation in the face of adversity” (p. 9).

Even the American Psychological Association, whose publication manual we use for editing, seems to follow this line of thinking: “Use emotionally neutral expressions,” the manual advises. “Objectionable expressions have excessive, negative overtones and suggest continued helplessness.”

I distinctly remember during the first week on the job my manager explaining to me how we are never to use the word suffer, as in, “suffering from bipolar disorder,” or victim, as in “stroke victim.” Think of all the people you know who have arthritis or hypothyroidism or ADD. Are they all “suffering”? When I hear that word, I think of someone huddled helplessly in a corner or shuffling dejectedly down the street.

However, plenty of people choose wisdom over despair. Although it doesn’t stop the skin from thinning or the muscles from atrophying, wisdom is just a different way of viewing the inevitable changes of life:

Despair is the unchallenged acceptance of negativity. Negative life events are viewed without a search for greater meaning. Losses are carried as heavy burdens from which one does not recover. Where wisdom calls for recovery from loss, despair is immobilized by the fear and anxiety triggered by loss. (p. 25)

I know it’s easy to write all this stuff when I’m still young. But after five years of editing articles that show both sides of the coin, I’m determined to be wise and resilient when I grow up. Here are some people I look to for inspiration:

Tao Porchon-Lynch

She’s a 90-something yoga master who also decided to add ballroom dancing to her CV…at age 87. A short and sweet interview with her is available here on the Kripalu Perspectives podcast page.

Age of Champions cast

Age of Champions – Trailer from Documentary Foundation on Vimeo.

I haven’t watched this documentary yet, but it features the stories of a 100-year-old tennis champion, 86-year-old pole vaulter, octogenarian swimmers, and team of basketball grandmothers all competing in the National Senior Games. This may be more interesting than the 2012 Summer Olympics!

Gotta Dance team

Photo credit: Gotta Dance & NBA Entertainment

I already gushed about this documentary here, but in short, the movie documents the inaugural season of the NETsationals dance team, a group of 13 seniors ages 59 to 83 who dance hip hip for the New Jersey Nets. The number on their jerseys represents their age. (I’m looking at you on the right there, Little Miss 81!)

5Rhythms Elders

My 5Rhythms instructor used to live in London and was part of the 5Rhythms Reach Out, which brings the practice to special populations such as older adults, children, and prison inmates. The video above is super sweet, and even if you don’t have time to watch the whole 7 minutes, at least just watch a few snippets. The average age of the adults in the video is 75, and their movement is a heartwarming indication of the expression and emotion that still lives inside of us, even when our body may not be able to jete across the room.

My 90-Year-Old Grandmother

No, not my grandmother, but Adam Forgie’s grandmother. She’s become an Internet sensation after her dance tribute to Whitney Houston went viral. According to Adam, grandma is nearly blind from macular degeneration, partially deaf, and has a hip replacement. But she still “wanna dance with some somebody.” And with such soul, too!

If it were up to me, I’d be a lifelong Peter Pan and never grow up, but because I’m not a cartoon character, the least I can be is as spirited as these folks above.

Do you have anyone you’d add to this list of resilient older adults?

Saturday synchronicities

Saturday, February 18, 2012 in Dancing, Drumming, Kripalu, Synchronicity | Tags: jim donovan, KDZ, megha, yogadance | 3 comments

It’s Saturday, it’s sunny, and things are a bit synchronous.

It started with a recollection of a dream I had last night. This was one of those dreams that you don’t remember you even had until something innocuous sparks the memory. I was doing my usual morning stretches and general rolling around/yoga/dancing in the living room when the Grooveshark playlist I had on switched over to Tina Malia’s “Heal This Land.” The first time I heard this song was back in October, during a Let Your Yoga Dance (LYYD) class. The instructor, Nikki, was training to become a certified LYYD teacher and was doing the practice teaches required before returning to Kripalu.

When Nikki played that song, it reminded me instantly of Megha, LYYD’s founder and director, especially in relation to the workshop at Kripalu I attended back in 2008. The program was titled “Let Your Yoga Dance: Heal Yourself, Heal the Earth,” and many of our sessions revolved around the importance of not only keeping ourselves healthy but the earth as well.

We danced barefoot in the grass outside. Planted sunflowers. Went out as a group to the labyrinth to move meditatively through the never-ending rock-lined loops, claps of thunder sounding in the distance. So hearing a song with lyrics like “My body is the mountain, the ocean, the river / The sand and the soil, the life giver” was just so, so Megha.

When the song played for me this morning, it hit me. The dream. I had dreamed last night that I was back at Kripalu, awaiting my chance to once again dance with Megha. In the dream, I had been promised a chance to review some of my choreography with Megha, and I couldn’t wait to show her my work. (This dream is also an embarrassing indication of how much Dance Academy I’ve been watching.) But the timing was never right. Our schedules kept interfering, and I never had the opportunity demonstrate my dance for her. The most I was able to do was meet with her briefly, stroke her face, and reassure her that she was “a wise woman.” (And all of this is completely normal, of course, in dreamland.)

So with that memory in mind, my dance to “Heal This Land” this morning was passionate, soulful. I felt connected to Megha, to LYYD, to the way dancing at Kripalu makes me feel…

…which then led to me opening my e-mail and finding a new Google Alert, which I have set up to let me know when the term “Kripalu” pops up on the Internet. The link led me to this YouTube video:

created by one of the musicians from KDZ, the drumming group that performs at Kripalu. Coincidentally, Megha usually leads the dance portion of these Saturday-at-Noon jams. It’s not an official Kripalu-affiliated video or anything, but it was so exciting to remotely be immersed in the sights and sounds of the dancing and jamming that goes on over there in the Berkshires. I’m not sure what I enjoyed more about my yoga teacher training, getting a 200-hour certification or spending my free Saturdays dancing with live drumming! 🙂

So now that I’ve found this great video, man, do I miss me some good drumming…

…oh! What’s this other e-mail in my inbox?

A day-long drumming retreat right here in New Jersey? With Jim Donovan, who I had just written about in this blog post?! You don’t say!

Thanks for the synchronicities, Saturday! You’ve reminded me that somewhere underneath all the commotion and chaos of life, there is a universal hum that keeps us all singing and dancing together.

10 weeks of tai chi

Monday, February 13, 2012 in Body, Exercise, Family | Tags: china, tai chi chuan | 1 comment

I am so excited to be adding a new item into my toolbox of mind-body-spirit “flowtation” devices: tai chi!

Starting this week, my sister and I (and hopefully our grandmother) will be taking a 10-week series in tai chi chuan.

It is not the first time I have dabbled in tai chi. My gym offers a class (led by a master instructor), which I’ve dropped into a few times, and then in the summer of 2010 I took a 6-week series in tai chi chih. I took the chih class during a very stressful time in my life, and that weekly gathering kept me grounded. My mind was all over the place that summer, and that one hour and 15 minutes each week was my lifeline. However, as much as the practice contributed to my well-being, in the end, I definitely felt a greater attraction toward the chuan style of tai chi.

Tai chi chuan is the style most people are familiar with, the steady flow from posture to posture that resembles an underwater dance. Tai chi chih, on the other hand, is a series of 19 movements that are done more like repetitions in a set. They are just as flowing as the movements in the chuan style, but they are not linked as seamlessly and it is not considered a martial art like chuan.

My sister, her boyfriend, and I took a free introductory class last week. My grandmother–who we’re trying to encourage to attend class–backed out at the last minute due to painful sciatica flare. We are trying to rally as many people as we can to take this class; as this article describes, there is pretty much no reason not to do tai chi. It helps improve memory and balance, can lower blood pressure, and helps reduce depression. The day of last week’s free class, as if on cue, this article popped up on my Google Reader from the New York Times wellness blog, about a study touting the benefits of tai chi for individuals with Parkinson’s disease.

Even after practicing for an hour under bright florescent lights (ugh!) and an overhead fan (on a 35-degree night–brr!), I left last week’s class feeling pretty darn good. I had been trying to get my lower back to crack all day; it had felt “stuck” since 7 a.m. Sure enough, after class I pressed my hands against my sacrum and pop! Relief. I loved the class’ gentle warm-ups, the way the movements felt like a dance to me, but one in which I had to exercise concentration and control. The instructor is also a certified hypnotherapist, and I swear after listening to his steady voice for 60 minutes, my brain had shifted into a very peaceful state of mind. It was not the workout I am used to at all, but it gave me that same focused and centered mind that I usually achieve after doing yoga.

Finding this class–convenient in terms of location, time, and cost–as well as the fact that we’ve got some family involved, makes me feel good. Really good. If only I could get the whole family to try it out, and then we could turn suburban New Jersey into a mini Beijing:

Common sight as we drove through China. (June 2006)

Bring in da noise: 7 elements of a great drum circle

Friday, February 10, 2012 in Breathing, Chanting, Dancing, Drumming | Tags: djembe, doumbek, drum circle, jim donovan, shekere | 6 comments

I went to a drum circle this past weekend and was really looking forward to sitting down at the computer and writing about what an awesome time it was, how I was transformed, how I sweated the afternoon away dancing around the room from djembe to djembe.

But instead of BOOM POW BAM BASS TONE SLAP WAHOO!, all I’ve got is: meh.

I’ve been to drum circles that had me hooting and hollering, throwing my head back and forth, and shaking my shekere till the cows came home (read: My First Drum Circle). When I left this particular event, I kind of felt like I wanted to take a nap.

But who am I to judge a drumming class? I’ve been calling my doumbek a djembe for the past several years. So I did come home slightly more enlightened.

And truthfully, I am no expert. I don’t have any formal education in percussion (aside from a hula dancing stint during which I mastered the ipu and pu’ili), and I attend maybe 3 to 4 drumming events at most per year. But my Old Lady Friend Carrol and I like to think of ourselves as drumming enthusiasts, and we are usually in agreement about whether an event was asi-asi or que bueno!

That said, here are my top 7 qualities that make for a rockin’ drum circle:

1. A play buffet.

Although drums are the pulse of a drum circle, having an assortment of percussive and other complementary instruments lying around can really liven up an event. A bass sound gets the feet stomping, but shake a shakere or maraca in my face and my hips won’t sit still.

When your hands need a break from drumming, you can still chime in by playing a cowbell, wooden block, or dancing around with foot bells. At the most recent event, someone had brought along the simplest of instruments: a set of spoons for clicking and a plastic bag, which when rubbed back and forth makes a light “scratchy” sound. The key, however, is to make it known that these instruments are here for everyone to experiment with and maybe give a quick lesson in how to use them. I saw the plastic bag lying around, but until the owner used it during the last song, I had no idea it could be used as “music.”

An assortment of drums themselves also switches up the sound and provides a range of percussion. Most people bring along their own personal djembe (or doumbek), but having additional drums available gives students a chance to try a different model or size.

Carrol tries out the djun djun

For example, when Carrol and I attended a workshop with Rusted Root founder Jim Donovan, we borrowed some of his impressive djembes with intricate carvings and awesome sound. They were for sale, too!

In addition, frame drums, congas, and bongos are all super-fun. (Especially congas. Oh man, the congas!)

2. Nontraditional sounds.

Every now and then at a drum circle, someone brings along an nontraditional instrument that adds a new kind of aural energy to the atmosphere.

For example, the Australian didgeridoo. This instrument has such an intense, haunting sound, such a primal noise that feels like it encompasses the heaviest, hardest, most indigestible and raw emotions that lie in our gut. What a treat when someone brings it along!

I’ve also been to circles that involved a flute, a guitar (which led a stirring acoustic version of “Let It Be”), and the simplest of unique instruments: the human voice. Jim Donovan’s workshop involved a drumming/chanting combo, where we did things like chant the vowels of the alphabet (A-E-I-O-U) and exploring where we felt each sound’s vibration the most (i.e., chest, head, throat). We split the universal sound (“Om, “Aum”) into four parts and chanted that over and over (A-O-U-M). We also worked with the kundalini mantra Ra-Ma-Da-Sa/Sa-Say-So-Hum. For most of the chants, we’d start with just our voices, gradually add some light drumming, and then allow the drumming to get louder as we also chanted louder.

A word of caution: If you bring an instrument that is likely to drown out everything else in the room (e.g., snare drum), just be courteous and play it at 50% rather than its full roof-blowing volume.

3. Strong leadership.

Sometimes even a large crowd of eager drummers will fall flat as a pancake with no one at the helm. Having at least one person in the leader role is essential to get things going (and then calm them down when things get out of control), otherwise (a) cacophony ensues, or (b) the rhythm just keeps falling like a plane unable to lift off the runway.

One of the regular circles I used to attend was wicked cool month after month…until the day the two conga-playing men who had assumed the leadership role weren’t there. We were essentially the same group of people with the same instruments in hand, but we just could not get our act together.

Offering a little lesson in technique is a great way to corral a group. At one circle, the facilitator reviewed with us the bass, tone, and slap; we then experimented with various rhythms, learning to play one thing while the rest of the group played another. We worked a lot with repetition–bass, bass, tone, tone, bass, bass, slapslap–trying to get our brains and hands in sync.

As I detailed in this review of a past drumming workshop, one of the leaders was a grandmotherly figure who preached about the importance of self-healing, connection to spirit, and being in tune with the universe. She was a vibrant being from head to toe: poised, passionate, and provocative.

4. Integration of mind, body, and soul.

Like yoga or dance or singing, drumming can be a deeply personal and meditative experience. For me, a good drum circle is one where my mind gets out of my hands and the division between the music and my soul reduces to nothing. When I am compelled to get up from my chair and dance, getting lost in the music, stamping, rocking, swaying, spinning, I have found seamless integration between mind, body, and spirit.

Movement is such an important part of drumming; I get nervous if I see someone playing a drum while sitting perfectly still. The drum sound is our heartbeat; how can it not stir you?! At one summer evening event, our class took some time to walk outside, soaking up the good vibes of the earth, feeling the grass beneath our feet, the full moon glowing on our faces, and eventually coming back indoors for a Mother Earth-related tribal beat.

Even something as simple as breathing can create a deep mind-body connection. At Jim Donovan’s workshop, we started every activity by taking a deep breath and centering ourselves. Even more important, after playing for several minutes, Jim would signal us to stop and then have us sit in silence for a few moments to soak up the lingering vibrations we created. Jim’s workshops also tend to lean a bit on the philosophical side, much like a yoga intensive. Who knew that how one approached drumming could relate to life ~~off the mat~~ outside the drum circle?

Finally, if drumming makes you feel good, express it! During a “Healing, Feeling” drumming event I attended, the leaders infused the class with lots of self-respect, self-care talk. The one woman, Marcy, reminds me of a gospel singer and will just bust out singing things like, “Feeeeel the love!” after a vigorous round of drumming. It’s hard not to throw your hands in the air and follow along with her.

5. Time to train the brain.

I don’t want every drumming event I attend to be a rigid formal lesson in technique, but a good drum circle is one that provides an opportunity for a mental workout. The brain is “plastic” and has the ability to re-wire itself as it absorbs new knowledge, and what better way to get the neurons firing than by learning an unfamiliar pattern and then playing it as part of a three-part round? Bonus points if you don’t hold your breath and/or grimace as you go along. 🙂

Other mentally challenging exercises I’ve done were trying to sing and drum at the same time and being part of a call-and-response during which we were instructed to keep our eyes closed and use our ears—not our eyes—to pick up the rhythm.

6. Inspiring environment.

A cramped conference room with metal folding chairs is not an ideal location for drumming. Although I’m sure it’s very possible to conduct an energetic drumming event in such a spot, people will feel more comfortable busting out in a open and airy environment.

The yoga studio I used to attend was situated on the main road in town, and during the summer we’d draw back the curtains, open the front door, and play as the sun was setting, the overhead fan creating a peaceful breeze. Our music attracted curious stares and smiles from dozens of passersby strolling along the avenue. Drivers stopped at the red light on the corner rolled down their windows and craned their necks to see what kind of craziness was brewing inside.

Even locations off the beaten path can be turned into welcoming ones by making sure the lighting isn’t too harsh or too dim, that chairs and blankets are cozy but not on top of each other, and that people have enough space to get up and move around a bit.

7. A rumble!

Every drum circle should end with a rumble; basically, a time for everyone to frenetically pound on their drums and scream. It is loud and obnoxious and infectious and absolutely exhilarating!

Have you ever been to a drum circle? What was your favorite part?

Helping the heart through dance

Monday, February 6, 2012 in Class Reviews, Dancing | Tags: musical theater, partnerwork, props, yogadance | 1 comment

Remember late last year when I took a Let Your Yoga Dance (LYYD) class with Nikki to help her fulfill her practice teach requirements?

One of the other students in the class was Suzie, who just so happened to be in the same LYYD training program at Kripalu. Suzie was a super-fun classmate, but I couldn’t wait to be one of her students. Like Nikki, she had a demeanor that just exuded Teacher. And, seriously, how cool is it to have not one but two LYYD teachers in my neighborhood?!

Friday night, in honor of the Go Red for Women campaign, Suzie held a heartwarming LYYD class where all proceeds went to the American Heart Association. It was a perfect tie-in: Raising money for charity by coming together and dancing our hearts out, getting our own cardiovascular workout through something as simple as dancing freely and openly.

I came into the class a bit tired and very cold. I felt like I was carrying weight of the work week on my shoulders, and I was afraid I would (a) just not have any energy; and (b) be a popsicle the entire time. When I am cold, I live with the fear that I will never warm up. Luckily, a few minutes of shaking around to Michael Franti’s “Say Hey (I Love You)” took care of that. 🙂

The thing about being a teacher is that you have to be ON, because you are the lighthouse for the rest of the class. If you begin to fade, the class energy fades with you. Suzie had some factors working against her: only a handful of students (one of whom [me] was sleepy and shivering) and the fact that we were dancing in the phys ed room of a small parochial school, surrounded by unflattering overhead florescent lighting, worn gray carpeting over a concrete floor, and hideous bright blue/yellow walls. She’d have to work extra hard to get us motivated!

Luckily, Suzie never let the conditions get to her and remained naturally ebullient throughout the entire class. It was hard to be grumpy when dancing with someone like this:

Those hats were used during our Broadway routine to “One” form A Chorus Line, when we strutted, shimmied, and kicked our way across the room. I have to say that was one of my favorite routines; props + musical theater = Happy Jen. It reminded me that as much as I love free-form dance, my past experiences on stage are still very much a part of me. (Maybe next time Suzie can play one of the songs from 42nd Street, with the tap-shoe sounds? Because how seriously fun would that be to pretend we’re tap dancers?!)

Our other props were scarves, which we moved fluidly and tenderly to RENT‘s “Seasons of Love” and then whipped around joyously to the Charlie Brown “Linus and Lucy” song. The colorful scarves were a great addition, and they helped add some vibrancy to the otherwise drab room. During the first song we were all inhaling and exhaling our scarves together like an opening and closing flower, and then when the Charlie Brown music came on, the scarves bobbed up and down with us as we shook around like cartoonish Peanuts characters.

And what’s a LYYD class without partner work? One of my favorite partner routines–not just of the class but, like, EVER–was standing in front of another person, eyes closed, and having their touch guide me into spontaneous movement. So the woman behind me tapped my right shoulder, and I moved from that touch. Then she touched my left knee, my right hip, the back of my head. Suzie instructed the “mover” to pretend as though we were in water, and that each touch from our partner created a kind of ripple effect. What made me love this practice so much was (a) the spontaneous factor, not knowing where I was going to be touched next; and (b) the “controlling” effect of being the toucher. It was like being a puppeteer in a way, me tapping my partner’s shoulder and watching her respond to that touch. I could control the speed I offered my touches and decide where my touch would go. And yet the movement she presented from that touch could never be predicted: Sometimes she rolled down over her knees, other times she reached up to the ceiling. What a seriously great practice in the dance between spontaneity and control, and also how one’s action can be so influential. The world continues to move via ripple effects.

I left class warm, both physically and emotionally. I wasn’t ready to be all Ya-Ya Sisterhood with my other three classmates, but I did feel more connected to them than when I first entered the room an hour earlier. I guess stuff like that happens when you roar like lions in each others’ faces and then later dance palm-to-palm, a la the Romeo and Juliet masquerade ball.

As much as I tried not to let the external environment get to me, I do wish the setting could have been a little more welcoming, maybe less harsh lighting and just a tad more visual warmth. I know the essence of yoga lives within us, but trying to cultivate it while standing under institutional lighting on a shabby gray carpet was a bit challenging. I joked that for her next class, Suzie should ask everyone to bring a small lamp or camping lanterns so we can shut off the overhead lights.

If not, though, I’ll just try to dive more into my practice and keep calm. 🙂

Burpees, planks, and a port de bras

Friday, February 3, 2012 in Dancing, Exercise | Tags: adult school, ballet, body image, circuit training | 1 comment

I took a step into unfamiliar territory the other night and went to a group circuit training class. It’s part of an 8-week series at a local adult school, and I knew that for this to be effective (read: for me to actually attend class for 8 weeks straight), I’d have to commit for realz and throw down the cash. I filled out a registration form, signed a check, and everything!

Yes, I belong to a gym and I also have lots of free weights and fitness gadgets at home, but for a while now I have felt the need for some structure when it comes to strength training. I love doing kettlebell exercises at the gym, but my body really can’t tolerate more than 1 day a week of that. I have a buttload of strength routines from magazines and websites printed out, but sometimes the act of just reading the instructions and comprehending where each body part is supposed to be is tiring in and of itself, and after I’ve “studied” the exercises for 20 minutes I have no desire to actually do them.

All I want is a little live guidance every now and then, to push me for 45 minutes and make sure all my parts are in the right place. Nothing too crazy (not quite ready for Bodypump yet) but nothing too wimpy either. Circuit training is perfect for my body, a chance for me to get cardio without overdoing it with jarring repetitive motions, and strength training, a time to build muscle. And dude, you can’t beat the price either! $3 per class? Community education rocks…property taxes at work!

The class was packed with people of all different ages, sizes, and fitness attire. It was so vibrant that I was never really self-conscious about my hip, that between sets I had to jiggle it a little. No one noticed that I didn’t lunge as deep on my left side.

What I was self-conscious about, though, was my knack for always looking like a dancer, even when I’m trying to be buff. I have this image of myself in my mind, that, due to swimming, I’m this ridiculously toned athlete. I mean, after 30 minutes of swimming, my arms feel spent, and while it’s true that my back and shoulders have changed form from swimming, my gangly upper body still screams ballerina. Not only in appearance but in movement, too. How come some people lift dumbbells over their head and look strong, and I look like I’m practicing a port de bras with 5 pounds of iron in each hand?

Ballet days

And don’t get me started on the jumping jacks. We did a variation of the typical jumping jack, jumping out wide-legged into a squat with the arms coming through the center of our body and out to the side. In other words, I felt like I was doing small jumps in a ballet class, a series of echappes to the tune of Britney Spears rather than classical piano. I felt so proper, so poised. And I couldn’t break free from the elegance!

I love that ballet is ingrained in my body but sometimes it’s like the dorky little sister who sneaks up on you in the school hallway when you’re trying to hang out with the cool crowd. “Hey ballet, whatevs. I’m here with the chiseled athletes now, doing my super-tough jumping jacks. We’ll catch up later. Nerd.”

Walker vs. stalker: How longer days make me less threatening

Wednesday, February 1, 2012 in Walking, Weather, Winter | Tags: nature | 1 comment

When I left work today around ten after 5, the early evening bestowed two wonderful gifts on me: daylight and mild weather.

I work in a cubicle and rarely catch a glimpse of the outside world. For the past few months I’ve gotten used to popping my head up over my cube wall at 5 o’something and seeing nothing but black on the other side of the window.

Today there was still orange in the sky, and it was mild enough that I decided to take a 3-mile stroll around the 55+ housing development across the street from my office. I have taken post-work walks there during colder/darker times, but let me tell you, you are way less threatening walking around a senior housing development in a lightweight jacket and khakis in daylight than walking around the same development at the same time in a knee-length thick winter coat, hat, mouth-and-nose-masking scarf, and, oh, it’s pitch black out.

During the former scenario, I’m a healthy gal who likes to stretch her legs after a long day at the office; in the latter scenario, I’m a creepy darkly dressed voyeur staking out people’s homes. It was nice for once to walk around the complex after work and not have every motion sensor light flood me in white and to innocently glance at people’s houses without Lou and Edna thinking I’m peeping in their windows to see what kind of valuables they own.

The semi-lit evening got me really excited because it means eventually I’ll be able to return to Red Bank Battlefield Park for post-work walks. The park is an official national park and has strict hours–open at dawn, close at dusk, locked gates and everything. Because of the early sunsets, I haven’t been to the park in forever, and I look forward to once again visiting my planes, deer, and red-tailed hawks.

As thankful as I am for today’s springlike weather, I know we still have a long way to go before I permanently trade my Land’s End sleeping bag coat for a hoodie. I mean, (as I write this) it’s technically not even February yet! I give you Exhibit A, a blog post I had written last year on February 22:

Winter made me cry this morning. Partially due to PMS but mostly just plain ol’ hating the cold, I broke out in tears at approximately 8 a.m. as I was attempting to clean the snow off my car. Just 4 days ago we were basking in 70-degree sunlight, and now I was standing in my driveway, fingers going painfully numb, trying to clear 4 inches of snow off my Ford Focus. I accidentally closed my car door on my ice scraper, it snapped apart, and then I snapped along with it. Bryan finished the job as I wimpered inside, hands jammed under my armpits in an attempt to regain feeling.

Bottom line: Enjoy it while it lasts!!