The Right One.

Inevitably, (it seems) I torture myself with doubt and insecurity when I feel like it’s time to do new choreography.  As much as I’ve tried to give myself an alternate process, I seem to go down the same road every time.  When I am over-trying to work on a song I only like (not love) and nothing, NOTHING, is coming to me, I say to myself, “O.K., this isn’t working and there doesn’t seem to be any song that’s moving me, so stop it.  Now, what do I want to do right now?”  I do something else, but there’s always the grrrrrrr underneath it and worse, the feeling of somehow not being legitimate.

Feeling not-good-enough has dogged me most of my life.  I understand that it is my fault that I feel this way.  It’s a journey (in my case, apparently a long one) that I have to undertake on my own.

Certainly, I am blessed to have many support systems (husband, children, friends, clients, family) that cheer me on the way and, yes, figuratively slap me around sometimes.  I have a friend who calls this “slap therapy.” It is helpful.

This week I broke through this lifelong hell-of-my-own-making.

All it took was hearing the “right” song.

And once I finished the dance, I felt cheerful and energized.  For me, finishing a creative project is a lot like being in love.  It is exhilarating. 

 

A friend recently said to me, as I was lamenting my “stuckness,” that the process seemed sort of like giving birth -- painful, but happy in the end.  And worth the pain. 

 

It made me think that in all aspects of my life, I have to get over striving to create and realize that it is only what truly moves me that can make me dance.  Pure joy is found in labors of love (not “like”).

Maybe I should accept that this angst I put myself through is just the way it is.  Or just the way I am.  It seems to me now that somehow it is worth it.  I always do end up in a good place – even though I am sure I won’t.  (Yes.  Every single time I am sure I won’t.)  Clearly, I have to wait for the right song.  

Sometimes we have to wait for the right person, the right situation, or the right words.  

Once the right one comes along, we just have to trust and follow our instincts.  It pretty much always leads to a place of joy.

If only I could stay there!

Fly (and) Thank You, Sondra Lee!

This week I got in touch in a very real way with my childhood self.  Not the anxiety-ridden, keep-your-head-down child but the happy one who believed in magic.  

I recover that child-part of me sometimes in everyday life and often in dance class. Dance is magic and can bring me tangibly in touch with the innocence of childhood. In day-to-day life, I can still find myself worrying about this or that.  I can fabricate out of thin air things I think I should be worrying about, if I were a responsible adult person. It is often ephemeral and difficult to hold onto feeling like the little one who believes in magic—who has faith that if she really believes it, she could fly.

This week, I have felt like a joyful kid every day and I want to share why.

I wrote an essay about dance that was published by The New York Times in response to their questions, “What inspired you to dance?” and “Who was your first ‘dance crush’?” **

I wrote about how when I was 6, I saw Mary Martin’s Peter Pan on television.  I fell in love with Sondra Lee as Tiger Lily. *** I LOVED her and I wanted to BE her.  Also, I wrote about how the only time I ever saw my parents happy together was when they were dancing.

On Monday at the studio, I received a note.  It was a thank you note from Sondra Lee!  I was (literally) jumping up and down, tears in my eyes.  I was a giddy 6 year-old in a pink tutu! It brought me right back to that moment when I saw Sondra as Tiger Lily, on that little black and white TV in our den in 1963. 

And I mean, right back.  I feel like a happy child whose idol has reached out specially to hug her.  I am over the moon.

I was so lucky to have this experience.  It makes me realize that the happy child has always been right here inside of me.  And so is yours.  Inside you resides the joy and wonder of childhood. I once believed that I could dance for a living only in my wildest dreams. Happily, I learned that I could actually live my dreams and fly.

The bad stuff can be outshone when we pay attention to only the light. If we can forget about gravity (whatever pulls us down), we can sail upwards.

Inspiration is timeless.  Joy is ageless. 

We can all “fly” if we only believe it enough.   

Thank you, Sondra Lee!!!

**The New York Times link:

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/24/arts/dance/your-first-dance-crush.html?emc=eta1 

***Sondra Lee as Tiger Lily: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_UV1CA5FUU

Fire

I choreographed a song called “We Are Young” by the band, Fun.  There is a part of the song that says “set the world on fire.”  I loved the way that sounded.  It felt like an “opening” to me, especially on the word fire.   I started the movement from that.  It was a 4 count, and the rest of the choreography just sort of fell into place from that spot. (If only it was always that easy!)

It makes me think that when we start anything with fire and passion, everything falls into place around that feeling.  Joy has its own vibration and attracts more of the same.

When we do something that feels like a slog, everything around it feels like drudgery.

On the other hand, our true nature is joy and passion.  So when we feel passion about whatever it is we are doing, everything falls into place.

Like the band’s name, it makes life more Fun.

Release

In dance, it is always best to release your judgment about how it’s going to look.  We can worry about how a movement “fits” our bodies, but that takes away the joy and replaces it with anxiety.  To me, the purpose of dance is to find the joy and personal expression in movement to music. 

Your expression is never wrong.  You can judge it if you want to and there’s nothing wrong with honing your skills, but connection to yourself and feeling your joy is really paramount.  Dance can be a celebration and it can also be a release if you are going through a difficult time.  You can find your way back to yourself by using dance as a party or as a meditation or both at the same time.  

In my meditation practice, I often switch gears.  If one way “in” isn’t working for me on one day, I go to another method.  What I have learned is that there are many ways to find the infinite that is within each of us.  We all have different ways of getting in touch with that inner space.  

The truth is we are always connected to our true selves.  There is no other way for us to be.  All That Is, is just that – All.  There is nothing and no one that can be separate from that.  

In meditation and in movement there is only your own way.  You can’t be wrong in the expression of yourself.  Everyone has a road “in” that is unique.  

Meditation, using stillness or motion, helps us to become more conscious of what is within. 

We can search and chase what we believe to be spiritual.  We can try really hard.  But we don’t really have to try, we only have to be exactly who we are.  We can release all the striving.   We can choose to let go of all notions of what should be, releasing the judgment of right or wrong.  Release is trusting that you are always a part of the One  –  even if you can’t perceive it.

You are always connected, all the time.  In other words, All That Is can’t lose your file.   

So instead of reaching, try releasing.

You already are what you seek to be.  You might just not be aware of it yet. 

 

Halo

I have been teaching a new choreography to the song, Halo, by Beyonce.  In the dance, there is a place where you are facing right, your left foot crosses over, and you turn or unwind.  There is a long four-count in which to achieve this – and it’s easy.  

Because there is so much time, it’s fun to try and turn more than once.  In order to do that, you have to spot – find a spot to look at for as long as you are facing that way and then whip your head around to find that spot again.  Your body will follow your gaze.  You also need a strong core.  Both of these will create a more controlled turn that keeps you from getting dizzy.  

I was wanting to turn more than once, but since the simple turn is an “unwind,” my right foot was ending up off the floor and in front of my left, which made it difficult to continue turning.  At first, I just tried to bully my way through that, but, of course, that didn’t work.  It only made me unsteady and out-of-control.  Then I realized I merely had to pick up my right foot to keep turning.  That worked.

In addition to actually looking where I wanted to end up, I had to get out of my own way.

I find that this is a good idea for me in my life.

I need to be clear about where I want to land, but also get out of my own way and stop tripping over myself.  

I can’t bully myself to do something that feels wrong.  I can try, but I’ll end up being out-of-control and dizzy.

This means I must cultivate a strong core of trust.

With a strong core, I can go where my vision takes me.  

I can relax, do my dance, and trust life to unwind in the way it’s meant to.

I know that’s easier said than done.  

So I remind myself daily (sometimes hourly) that it’s safe to trust and to just get out of the way.