Ooooooh! Look at the Shiny Object!

Look at this shiny thing over there, so you don’t notice this other thing over here!

That works with our small children, significant others, bosses, and sometimes, even ourselves.

It works in dance, too.

I was nursing an inflamed Achilles tendon.  So, I was not able to leap using my right foot.  (I hate that.) Because the teacher is in front of the class, everyone (consciously and unconsciously) agrees that the teacher is the leader.  If I am less energetic, it can spread to the class.  Since there is that give and take in dance class, I don’t like to slow it down; not only for the clients, but for me, too.

When I am supposed to leap using my right foot, I find something to substitute for the fact that I cannot leap.  Instead of focusing on what’s wrong (sore tendon), I focus on what’s right.

When I “faux” leap I can:

Lift my arms in a different way.

Try to open my chest and shoulders more.

Open my left hip more.

Try (try) to decrease the distance between the back of my head and my left foot.

Doing these things distracts me from not being able to come off the floor but also leads me to new discoveries. It makes me come at the movement from a different perspective and that helps me to find new avenues of creativity within the dance.  And I can continue with these new discoveries even when my tendon has healed.

If you are frustrated by something over which you have no control, you can try to focus on something over which you do have control.  You can try to find the joy somewhere. In finding something that is positive, you can often find new ways of being.  Admittedly, sometimes life throws us devastating blows and we really have to lower the bar to define what, in fact, is the “joy”.  But even “I’m not dead” is a start toward focusing on what’s good.  

So go ahead---look at the shiny object.  It may lead you to an exciting, unexpected destination or even a discovery about yourself.

It's Not about You

On Saturday, I had an unusually large class.  I got really rattled by this for some reason and started messing up the choreography.  Fortunately, my clients have a great sense of humor and know we are dancing for fun, not to judge one another.  I had to mentally slap myself around and thought, “This is not about me!”  After that, I was fine.  And it isn’t about me.  I am just presenting a dance class that can be interpreted by anyone who is participating in any way that works for them.  I am inviting people to “come along.” 

I get worried when there are a lot of new people, and can’t help fretting.  Will they like it?  Will they come back?  I try to remind myself that not everyone, after all, is going to like my class. A client’s reaction is based on individual factors.  There’s only so much I can do.  

This reminds me of times when I mistakenly thought something was about me.  I was in a serious relationship with a man who seemed to have real problems with anyone I had a relationship with “apart” from him.  In other words, if he was not an original participant in the relationship, he didn’t like it. 

He acted out with surly, pouty behavior if, for instance, my family was visiting.  It was mortifying.  We were camping on a mountain with my relatives and I was seriously considering either jumping myself or pushing him off of it.  It was one of those “How-can-I-fake-my-own death- and-get-out-of-this-easily” kind of feelings.

I was angry, but thought I could “fix” it.  So I tried everything I could think of: talking about the situation; trying to bring him into the conversation more; ignoring him completely; getting really angry; showering him with attention.

NOTHING “worked.”  I finally realized that this behavior by my boyfriend had absolutely nothing to do with me!  I had no power over anyone.  I only had power over my own behavior.  Obviously, the relationship did not survive.  And I didn’t have to change my identity.

The point is: we are who we are.  When we present a dance class, a report at work, a piece of art, we have put our truth into it.  We can only do our best.  We are responsible for how we give a message, but we are not responsible and have no control over how a person reacts to our message.

The good news is: it is not always your responsibility or your fault.  In fact, it is probably not really about you at all.

Core Scenes and "Help Me Rhonda"

In class, when I do a song that I’ve done a lot, it becomes ingrained in me, almost a conditioned response.  This is a good thing because even if my brain doesn’t remember the movement, my body will.  When the movement is so deep-rooted, I can present it with confidence and give direction much better.  On the other hand, if I want to change something in the choreography, in the moment I do the change, I totally forget what comes next.  It’s as if doing something new changes the rest of the choreography in my brain and body.  I can find myself in front of a class and sense that everything is about to come to a screeching halt.  So I have to fake it.  But that can actually take me in a new direction and require me to look at an old routine from a new perspective. 

This reminds me of what therapists call “core scenes.”  A core scene is a negative interaction you have in a relationship that happens time and again.  It’s so predictable that it’s almost scripted.  Here’s one I remember from high school: 

I was friends with a couple (Jack and Linda), two of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet.  Even though it was 1975, Jack had a real connection to the music of the 50’s and 60’s.  He particularly loved the Beach Boys.  Before Jack and Linda started dating, Jack had a girlfriend named Rhonda of whom Linda was very jealous.  Whenever there was a party, there was of course a lot of Iron City beer.  After a few drinks, whenever the song “Help Me Rhonda” came on, Jack would replace the phrase, “Help me Rhonda, help me get her out of my heart” with “Help me Rhonda, help me get her out of my pants.”  This would send Linda into a violent rage, and the scene would usually end in either tears or physical altercations.  At any party, it wasn’t a question of if this would happen, but when.  Jack just couldn’t help himself.  It happened every time. 

This kind of thing happens to us all.  He says something totally incendiary.  You respond in kind.  It’s like a conditioned response, and you just can’t help yourself.  You say what you always say because this time he’ll hear you!  This time he’ll understand. Yes, well, we’ve all been there, and it doesn’t work.  You end up exactly where you were the last time you had this argument.

Actually, all you have to do is change one thing.  Altering just one response will change the outcome.  You have to decide that you don’t have to “win.”  In these core scenes, no one is winning.  The change doesn’t have to be you surrendering, either.  All that is required is a different response. 

Just like in dance, one change can transform the whole thing and point you in a direction you would never have imagined was possible.

Who's the Boss?

As the great Mary Anthony (contemporary dancer, mentor, and teacher) once said, “Technique is not an end in itself; it is the means to an end.”* Technique is important in a performance, but it is not the most important thing.  In class, “getting it right” is only important to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or others.  When movement is informed by what is within, from your heart, you and anyone watching you can feel your presence and passion.  Yes, technique is beautiful, but I’d rather see someone screw up spectacularly and passionately, than see a perfectly performed dance that is not infused with emotion.

You can dance for a teacher or an audience and try to dance the choreography perfectly.  Or you can learn the movement, let it go, and dance what is inside of you.  If you are dancing for an audience, the audience will feel your emotion and become your partner in the dance.  If you are just going for precision and what it looks like to others, the dance is only half expressed.

I was raised very strictly.  We had to say “yes, ma’am” and “yes, sir,” and we were absolutely not permitted to say “what?” to our elders.  We had to say “ma’am?” or “sir?”  I grew up in Pittsburgh, where none of my friends were “trained” to speak this way to adults.  Some of my friends’ parents would look at me wondering if I was being weirdly polite or just being fresh.  (If only!  I didn’t have the self-confidence to be fresh to anyone.)

The adults around me were so certain about everything.  They seemed infallible.  I thought my instincts about how to act in my life must be wrong, because the adults must be right.   It took me a long time to trust my gut.  For many years, I looked for validation outside of myself. And I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t very happy.  I tried to fit into a mold that just wasn’t me.

When I finally started to gradually take the messages from my gut seriously, I went a little overboard:

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“But I was just telling you to have a good day!” 

“Oh. Well. Still.  Don’t boss me!” 

The funny thing is, when I went my own way, the people in my life who were important to me stuck with me.  Even if they were resistant and disapproving at first, they came around.  Some of them actually embraced the real me.

Dancing from your heart validates you.  It shows you and everyone else who you are.  You bring your audience with you.

When you live your life from your heart, you validate yourself.  Your actions announce to you and everyone the truth of who you are.  You bring your loved ones with you.

And no one is really the boss of you!

*Thanks to Susan Jacobson for this quote from her teacher!

Vertical Lines and My Mother

I am not a trained dancer.  I just love to dance, and I have made it my career.  Those are my only “qualifications.” 

When I was growing up, there was no possibility that I could study dance in a serious way.  My mother wouldn't consider it.  Also, as a single mother, she had no money for lessons.  Being a single mother defined her life.  (In those days, it was uncommon.)  Although she was only 35, my mother was unable to heal and move on after her divorce from my father.   She had to support four kids, and I’m sure she was afraid that I would starve if I tried to make dance a career.  That lifestyle, too, would undoubtedly lead to “premarital sex.” (Remember when that was actually a term?)  That was just too scary for my mother to contemplate.  I could dance for fun, but it could never be a vocation.   And I didn't have the confidence to question her judgment.

Because I am an expert at losing confidence—give me an inch of “maybe you’re not good enough” and I’ll make it into a mile—I think there are some things I just can’t do.  The latest is a barrel turn.

While watching the amazing dancers on “So You Think You Can Dance,” I saw a lot of barrel turns. (Turns off the floor that look as if the dancer is rolling backwards over a barrel).  I thought, I really want to learn how to do that!  And then I wondered, could I do a barrel turn? 

Why not?  At least I could try.  So I put a barrel turn in the choreography for “Summer Wind.”  The way I choreograph is to start at a very easy level and progress to more difficult levels.  My clients can choose to stay at any level they wish.

To develop a barrel turn, I started my learning process by first (a) turning in the right direction. Then, after internalizing this, I (b) arched my back and leaned my head back. Then (c) I practiced how to plié more deeply on my standing leg.  Finally, I worked on coming off the floor as I turned.  The most important part of the process, though, was first believing that if I could do (a), then I could do (b), and then (c) would naturally follow...

There have been experiments in which baby kittens were raised in environments with no vertical lines.  When the kittens were released from that environment, they bumped into chair legs because they couldn’t perceive anything that was vertical.  What they had no experience of, they actually couldn’t see.

My mother’s vertical line was having a happy life as a woman without a husband.  She couldn’t even imagine it.

When I was growing up, dance was my vertical line.  Lately, it was a really good barrel turn. 
 

What’s your vertical line?

You can manifest as “real” only that which you can imagine to be true.  What you think about yourself has everything to do with what you believe you can accomplish.  As you enlarge your perception of yourself, your reality will reflect greater and grander experiences.

Believe in yourself.  Believe in your right to be happy.  As you believe, so you dance.

It's Just There

When you love dance (or painting or boating or tennis) it is just a part of you.  You don’t really have to think about whether you want to do it.  You don’t have to persuade yourself to do it.  You just do it. It’s just there. 

Love is an intrinsic part of you. It drives you to express your deepest, truest self.  Whether it’s your job, your hobby, your family, love for these things propels you along a path.  It leads you.

When you love a person unconditionally, it is not something you learn. You don’t have to think about it or persuade yourself to do it.  It’s just there.

Sometimes you can revel in love.  Sometimes you just have to accept that love is present and there’s nothing you can do about it.  It is irrevocable. It causes you to do and behave in certain ways without question. 

There have been people in my life that I love, and I really wish I didn’t.  Life would be less painful if that love were not there.  However, it is always present.  It’s like the sun.  Sometimes (frequently) you can’t feel it or see it, but it is still eternally there.

The bad news is that love can hurt you. 

The good news is that you can love unconditionally and that love leads you to your truth.

 It’s just there.

Body Intelligence, Part II

Although your body is always right about your true feelings, it does not always give you the right messages about how to move forward in your life.  Just like your body has memory and associates certain music with specific movement, your behavior can get set in patterns. 

The body is the last place to integrate new behaviors and is also the last place to let go of old behaviors.  So the behavior you may have used as a child to survive in your family, for instance, may continue to feel “right” in your body, even though you can see that these old behaviors no longer serve you.

I have a terrible time with any kind of confrontation.  I am addicted to harmony—but no one can have harmony all the time.  That’s why it’s an addiction; sometimes it’s just pretend harmony, like “I’m-dancing-as-fast-as-I-can-harmony” or “Birthday Cake” harmony*.  So, I am the Queen of Avoidance.  I will do just about anything to avoid unpleasantness.  I know (rather than feel) this avoidant behavior is wrong.  As a result, I have shame and then I’m ashamed of my shame—it just goes on and on.  Wouldn’t it be easier to speak my truth and get it over with?

Maybe.

Okay, yes.

I have a therapist who has helped me meet conflict rather than run and hide from it.  So, after screwing up my courage and facing the “battle” armed with my truth, my body is screaming, “STOP!  YOU’RE WRONG! NO!” However, in my thoughts, I reason it out very logically and I recognize that facing conflict with my own truth is right—even if my body has not yet internalized it. 

I have had to face conflict many times before my body would “come along.” I will probably always have trouble with confrontation, but my body has integrated the new behavior much better than I thought it ever would. 

The body is the last part of you to integrate new behaviors, and the last to let go of the old.  Your body still will never lie to you about your true feelings.  It’s just that sometimes those feelings have to be released and replaced with more healthy ones. 

 *See “Birthday Cake and Am I Dancing Too Fast?” Posted 6/26/11