Shamsi

Today there was no ink or pencil put to paper, but lots of mental processes about the Dancemeditation class I taught this evening.  The practices were simple tonight… stretching and breathing, following the breath in our own movements and then the spinal winding and unwinding followed by free movement.  The space was nice, even if not everyone there was completely into it.

Later when I arrived home it was to S. full-on in guitar-mode in the studio.  After inquiring and finding that spaghetti was not a first choice I ended up working with some thin-cut pork-chops I’d purchased yesterday.

I’ve no photographs of this although there should have been.  I was happy with the breading of chops, they came out looking quite nice.  And as a garnish and to add a little flavor I cut up a couple of gala apples and placed them around the chops.  With those in the oven I sliced up a tomato, some Romain lettuce and an avocado.

Ta-da!  South of I-10 Girlie-queue with the creative supper on the quick.  I never realized until I was an adult with a job and a Sig-o that my step-mother had given me these great ‘quick-meal’ skills… fortunately I’ve gone one step further and my meals aren’t as greasy or calorie filled and contain fresh vegetables.  You won’t find me knocking what she did ever though, with 6 people to feed after a 12 hour nurse’s shift on not a whole lot of money.

When Kate approached me in June about her project, I jumped on board willingly.  I forget sometimes how quickly time passes when your days and weeks are filled will constant events.  Four months has passed quickly, especially considering we didn’t even begin her project until the middle of August.

We have not practised every week.  I did not keep up with my journal entries very responsibly; leaving many unfinished entries half written on the computer with plans of “returning to finish them later.”  But I really wanted to thank Kate for all that this project has given me.

It is one thing to have a personal practise.  You are accountable to no one but yourself.  And that by itself is a loaded statement.  One to which I will return later.  A group practise or even a ‘duet practise’ means that each person is not only in some way accountable for themselves, but also to one another.  I have put more than several hours/days/months/years of thought into the concept of ‘doing for others before I will do for myself.’  Earlier this year I was completely enchanted by Cheryl Richardson’s book The Art of Extreme Self Care.  This topic is beyond the simple idea of knowing that we should take care of ourselves first, if for nothing else than that we are healthy enough to take care of others and give to them fully when required (I’ve always likened this to the airline spiel of “If you are with a child, put your oxygen mask on first and then the child’s.”  I believe Ms. Richardson makes the same comparison.)  Regardless, it’s always amazing to me how much many of us will put off doing for ourselves, but do the exact thing we might wish to do (for ourselves) for another.  Amazing. 

Ah well, totally off topic for this post.  Kate asked me to help, I thought it was wonderful and I was glad not only to comply, but that I did comply.  We’ve had an amazing experience (adventure?). 

This Saturday marks the end of Kate’s project.  She must present her findings and our work to her advisors.  We are both ridiculously excited and she’s said she doesn’t even care about the mark she gets because the work that we are doing and will be able to share with others is so important, opens so many avenues that just having done it will have been worth it in the long run.  Fair enough.  I am excited for the same reasons, but also for her success, because the project has been successful, I think more so than we first imagined.

Kate asked if we could meet last night so that she could film our session in case there were any glaring technical difficulties Saturday when we have a live session for her advisors.  Initially we were supposed to meet at 6PM my time (CST), which would have been midnight her time.  As I was arriving home she texted to ask if we could push it back a full 6 hours.  At first I was hesitant because I had already been awake since 4AM, but then it seemed like a great idea because I would have a chance to breathe and relax for a bit (a six-hour bit!)

The SessionI have meticulously set up camera, laptop (where the Skype software lives) and my space in anticipation of Kate’s call.  Tonight I take no chances with the iffy wireless connection and plug my laptop directly into the router.

Kate rings through and I answer.  She is blurry; blurry because it is 5:59AM on her side of the line.  I laugh and tell her good morning.  She is adjusting and finding the best angle for her video camera so that my little image on her laptop can be included in the recording.  We discuss music; her iTunes was updated and flakey so I offer suggestions from what is currently on my iPod.  As I look she talks about the outline she would like to do.  She has approximately 45 minutes for her live presentation with me Saturday, so she will film 40 minutes of us.  She tells me that she would like to do 10 minutes of Opening Sequence, followed by 10 minutes of Hand Dancing that has a Repetition and Evolution theme, then 10 minutes of Free Dance based on level changes and finally 10 minutes of Witness Dancing (5 minutes for each of us.)  I roll through the music on the iPod and come to Gino D’Auri’s “Passion Play” which is a CD of four lengthy, powerful songs – 46:08 minutes exactly.

Kate finishes adjusting lighting and the video camera from her side and asks me if I will lead the opening… I was going to offer since she looked so out of it.

I hit play and position myself in front of my camera and begin.  Even though it is after midnight, I begin to feel energized and realise that we are very likely going to have a deep session this morning.  I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the time, depending more on the fact that I knew where the changes were in the music – how long each track was.  I stayed longer in the opening sequence than I had intended, but each section was not only necessary, but lasted exactly as long as it was needed… which is ultimately the point.

For days my sticky hip (yes, the same sticky hip) has been acting up and going so far as to cause my knee problems.  My left Iliotibial band, occasionally pushed beyond its limits from too much hip work in bellydance or simply from standing improperly, has made its presence and its annoyance known.  The forward bends and backward extensions felt good and I moved slowly through them, always aware that Kate moves more slowly than I do; an attempt to match her.  Forward and back again into the twist this time, but slowly, deliberately, aware that my lower back and hip are not only connected, but trying to feel more deeply into that connection.  Forward and back gives way to circular motions, back and around, front down and across, repeating, then reversing eventually stopping at the ‘back’ of the movement.  I lay my forearms on the floor and widen the stance of my feet and I inhale, opening into the side stretching sequence.  On the exhale I collapse into my center, elongating from the base of my shoulder to pull my arm around and down, gently pushing to the other side.  As I transition from the left to the right side I feel my spine and hip release, popping loudly.  The continual inhale – side open, exhale – collapse continues fluidly, slowly, deliberately and so do the releases in my hips and spine.  I think this is where I stayed to long… ah well.  Into a gentle seated-spinal-twist with an exhale as I allow my head and spine to roll down toward my foot, inhaling as I move from my waist to draw the movement upward, like a gentle whip, my head lolling at the end of the motion.

The track changes, we have been in the opening for at least 12 minutes.  I transition to a cross-legged sitting position and motion to Kate that we are going to begin the hand dances.

Right hand on top facing down, left hand inches away facing up, directly in front of my solar plexus and I can feel the energy crackle down my spine and arms into the awaiting palms of my hands.  I keep in mind that Kate wishes to use this as a ‘repetition and evolution’ exercise as well.  I make circles from my elbows, then shoulders, all the while feeling the connection with Kate intensify and deepen.  I have a vague awareness of the clock on the computer screen and at 5 minutes tell Kate to take over.  As I follow Kate I realize how much longer her repetition lasts… and think about my own hasty changes, about my reluctance to stay with a single move for more than 1 minute at a time.  But we’re working against time aren’t we?  45 minutes versus the process that is the unfolding of Dancemeditation.  Is this Dancemeditation… this is a demonstration?

I continue to follow Kate, sometimes she is too close to the camera and her hands move out of the picture.  I look at her shoulders and think how like following Dunya from the back of the room this is… translating movement by not watching the movement.

It is strange, thrilling, exciting, ground-breaking… for me anyway.

After Kate’s 5 minutes are up I let her know that we will begin the next sequence, three levels.

Kate moves to a prone position and I remain seated.  The Flamenco guitar seems easier to engage with my arms and torso.  I remember that we are filming this and attempt to maintain some sort of ‘center’ in front of the camera.  I find myself caring and not caring about this as the music takes control and I want to move and breathe into the strumming, the clapping.  Now that my hips are free I find my legs wrapping around my body (swastika positions), pushing myself up and forward, crawling.  My spine free, I lift and arch further and further back, enjoying the deep openings created from the exaggerated stretches.  As always, I know my movement has been affected by watching Kate, moving with Kate.  Sometimes I am very slow and pleased to drag through the motion… enjoying each tiny weight shift as I move back and forth across the floor.  This is only 3 1/2 minutes too short.  I move to the floor position, I do not know where Kate is, but it does not matter – it takes all of my attention to remain, lying on the floor with this music going on.  My legs explore wide openings while swiveling from my hips, opening and closing like scissors and then tucking tightly into my chest.  I roll, opening my spine and sides to the floor, finally rolling onto my stomach and stretching deeply, as though my stomach will take a bite out of the floor.  My head and neck feel release as I roll my forehead back and forth across the floor, and then again from my forehead to the crown on the top of my head, slowly, incrementally, opening and closing the vertebra in my neck.  3 1/2 minutes… no – 4 (I wasn’t paying very close attention to the time.)  Finally standing I let my arms fly away from my body, twisting at my waist and feeling loose all over.  Slow movements take over and I see my breath, all of my movements originating from and returning down a path created by my breath.  Breath “The Alpha and the Omega” of this work.  I can feel how my breath has deepened.  I can feel how the air filling my lungs leaves a heavier, viscous feeling in my chest and belly, yet hollow and vacant at the same time?  Always a strange feeling.  All too soon our ”3 Level” time is over and I call back Kate’s attention.

I am still amazed that we have not lost our Skype connection through any of this.

We move into the witness dancing.  Kate moves first.  Her body, even though just waking, is fluid (at least in appearance.)  There are butterflies in my stomach as I watch her move – excited butterflies.  Her slow-liquid state draws me in and I very nearly loose my self-awareness.  At the end of her five minutes I call time.  She is slow to come out of her state, five minutes is never enough time for anything in this practise.  She says she will watch the clock for me and I turn up the volume on the music.  My dance is in turns wild and ecstatic then soft and thoughtful.  I can feel all of these spaces inside of me… like drilling through striations in a large piece of rock and hitting different ‘pockets’ of air/sand/concrete.  Elation.

Kate calls me back to the present and I stagger to a halt.  We are both overjoyed at this session.  She laughs and says “You must be exhausted.”  I am laughing because I am now so jazzed I wonder at how I will sleep.

Friday now for both of us, we will meet again tomorrow for the witnessing by her advisor.  I am enveloped by a sense of fuzziness and warmth as we wish one another good night /day.

ouf’da.

I have been a ‘mess’ of “I don’t wannas” for the past couple of weeks.  An irritable child with a bad case of Summer Vacation blues.  I want days to luxuriate on a blanket in the park with nothing but books I want to read and empty journals and drawing books with colored pencils, pen brushes and the like.

Today is different though, today I want to do the things I’ve scheduled, that are ‘on my schedule.’  Today I am excited to be passing Reiki attunements and I am excited that I will be at the studio for my Skyping Dancemed session with Kate. 

It is a later time than we typically practice.  I’ve had the entire day to spend with Shelly, lazily fixing breakfast, drinking coffee (I know I shouldn’t, but it’s Sunday,) flipping through the television channels and eventually puttering around the house.  I like the evening practice.  I like not being in my house to practice – Shelly’s band practice will just be starting up at home.  I know it’s nearly midnight (11PM) for Kate, but the idea of being in the empty studio (I can hear someone else’s band practice coming at me from a distant corridor) with space and the only one behind a locked door is radiantly comforting.

I am excited.  The Reiki attunements are completed, everyone has left.  I turn on my computer and open the “Skype” program.  No one online.  I wait.  Shortly I hear Kate beeping in and I accept the call.  She tells me it is cold in London, 50 degrees I think she says… just wow, it’s still in the 90’s here most days.  We discuss, based on our last ‘face to face’ encounter, that one of us will lead the opening sequence while the other follows.  Kate suggests “light & shadow” or “fascia work.”  I ask and she reminds me of the “light & dark” exercise; focusing on and moving from one side of the body while the other stays at rest, then switch.  I like this one; I haven’t worked with it more than four or five times.  Kate then suggests ending with witness dancing.  This is beautiful I tell her.  I was lamenting earlier last week that one of the practices I love, but rarely get to participate in is witnessing.  Kate intelligently suggests a “Plan B” in case Skype or either of us goes “offline.”

I ask Kate to lead the opening sequence and she agrees.  She does some set up work on her side (at first her front is in total shadow and all I can see is an outline.)  She moves her lamp, the computer and adjusts the computer sound.  We begin.  Skype disconnects.  It’s like the needle on a record player skipping; at first I notice something wrong, but it takes a moment for my brain to process.  I go ahead and hit ‘play’ on the CD player.  I’d put a CD in earlier in case Kate needed me to supply the music.

I re-start.  Inhaling, forward bend – slowly this time, I’d been on Kate’s speed until Skype bailed.  I continue with the forward and back until the backs of my legs give way easily in the forward bend.  I twist back and then forward twisting over one knee.  My breathing feels shallow, I being to pay more attention to my breath and feel the tightness around my diaphragm.  I feel like a pillow has been pushed under my lungs and won’t allow me to take my full measure of oxygen.

I’ve left the web cam on… I am experimenting in my own time (I haven’t told Kate.)  I have always been intrigued by the idea of movement with and without witnesses, with and without people; how much of a difference does it make to have another person ‘receiving’ my information?  On any level.  I see myself

I bring my awareness to the room and realise I’ve been twisting back and forth for a while… I move into a gentle forward bend, legs extended, feet flexed, toes pointing upward.  My calves and Achilles tendons feel the pain of this more than my hamstrings or back.  Rocking back, pushing into table, I vaguely wonder whether Kate does this piece any more?

Wide-legged side to side opening, then spinal twist with up and down, gently massaging the spine.  Eventually I roll into pigeon, but extend upward through my torso, feeling the deep stretch in my hip flexors.  I find myself not wanting to do ‘pre-prescribed’ movement, yet my body unconsciously remembers Jana (Jennifer) and how much she totally loved a movement that no longer enters our opening sequence.  I push up on one arm and one knee, opposite leg extended, opening wide through my chest and feeling the stretch take over the whole of my body.  This feels amazing.

Gradually, eventually, I see the time and move into our agreed upon “Shadow & Light” exercise.  It always feels easiest to allow my right side free reign, and so it goes.  The left side, dully hanging, no energy, I really do feel the sense of “Shadow” as I disregard my left side.  The right side, vibrant, full of movement, full of “Things to say,” extends and reaches, makes shapes, makes fun of the left side for not being able to move… it suddenly strikes me that my right side feels like an angsty, “full of herself” teenager, like a Senior who’s just become a Senior but hasn’t done the work to get there yet…

The web cam changes how I feel.  There is no human being on the other side of the camera; watching or receiving.  There is an eye, it is robotic, it is watching me (it allows me to watch me), I feel the sense of being watched and it takes my attention from inward focus to an outward, more global awareness.  I’m not sure I can explain this yet, but now that I’ve pin-pointed the feeling, I will be more aware of its coming and going.

After 10 minutes I switch sides.  My left side, so oddly wants the interaction of the right.  It feels as though the left almost requires the stimulus – more perhaps it just likes the idea of ‘reacting’ to the right side’s action.  So strange?  I’ve never noticed this before.  The left does well, even if it does feel somewhat rusty – I feel like a lop-sided tin-man.  I begin to move like a tin-man – I see somewhere in my head Gene Kelly moving his arm and leg in exactly the same squeaky, angular patterns.  It is a struggle.  I want to receive information from my moving right side and allow the left to simply follow.  This is such an odd feeling…but kind of like how my life feels right now – a large part that just wants to ‘follow’ and ‘react’ rather than instigate and plan.

I am still struggling with my left side’s movements when I hear Kate beeping back in.  I love being able to see Kate’s face as we speak (everything I’ve always disliked about the telephone…gone!)  We smile at one another; our non-traditional communing affecting us both beyond the practice?  I suggest Kate ‘goes’ first for our witnessing section.  She agrees.  I watch, the line goes dead… again.  We’ve agreed that should the line drop while we are in the middle of witnessing (a simple practice whereby one individual moves, while another ‘witnesses,’ watching, but not becoming engaged in the mover’s drama) that the watcher will simply hold the space and we’ll call back afterwards.  This happens; I am holding the space for Kate.  I lie back on the floor, my knees bent, feet flat on the floor.  I hear someone’s cello? from down the hall.  More noises from the surrounding band practice rooms… I feel light as I imagine Kate’s long form gracefully filling her living room with light, precise, delicate movements.  Maybe her movements are not light and delicate, but that’s what I see in my mind’s eye.  Again, the beep.

“Hullo?”  We’re together again – my video is not transmitting.  Dang technology.  I finally get my video to transmit and turn on my music… trusty ol’ Buddha Bar VI, Angelic Voices remix.  Through my half-closed eye-lids, I see Kate getting comfortable on her stomach in front of her computer, and I let loose of my movements.  I am still feeling this expansion – this need to stretch beyond my skin.  Not to ‘get out’ simply to feel the elasticity of it and to push my skin, my ‘container’ to its furthest boundaries.

The subtlest of ‘blips’ catches my attention and I notice that the computer screen has lost Kate’s image.  Ah well, I know she is witnessing for me, even if she cannot see me.  I love this, taking up space.  Taking up space with movement, in large swaths as though I am a painter with a mile high canvas attempting to reach and cover as much space without ladders or harnesses – just my body – expanding.  Something distracts me; a loud noise?  More band practices beginning… bad band practices… My attention dissolves, I have 3 minutes left of my 10 minute witness dance.

I slowly wind down and realise I am alone.

The starting and stopping of today’s practice has rattled me a bit.  I do not feel all of the ‘grounded’ peace I typically feel.  I hear the beeping of Skype and Kate ringing back in.  Even for the starts and stops, the continuity of meeting of simply “showing up” every week gives me an anchor.  It’s a nice feeling.

Kate and Shamsi Dancemeditation Photo Credit: Paul B. Goode

I am aggravated today.  I was supposed to hold a 4 hour Dancemeditation session this morning and no one registered.  No one told me they would definitely be there.  I did not go to the studio.  I received a call at 10AM asking whether we were still having the session because there were 3 people there.  I am frustrated.  I will live.  I was looking forward to my own personal “Day of Dancemeditation.”

I putter around my house doing mundane chores instead.  Maybe this is why I’m upset.  Given the choice of Dancemed versus Housework… well, yeah.

Kate and I are meeting at 3 my time today.  This was supposed to coincide with my ending the session that did not happen.  I would finish my session at 2, have time to collect and set up the computer in the dance space and then …  Instead I am stuck in our home-studio room, afternoon sun blazing down through the large windows, white painted walls glaring at me.  I am waiting patiently in front of my computer, arranging the new little camera I’ve purchased just for Skyping.  I do not see Kate come on line.  I wait.  Kate texts around 3:15 and says her internet connection is flakey, can we work remotely.  Sure.

I am in a mood; my day is so not going as I planned and I know the Universe is pushing my buttons.

I have my music, so this is fine.  I plug it into the overhead room monitors and begin.  My mind wanders almost immediately.  I think of a practise my volleyball team began in my sophomore year.  “Don’t bring your day into the gym,” I remember the lecture.  “Leave it at the door.”  As a team we began the simple practise of walking into the gym (each person did this on their own,) changing out for practise and then going to find a spot on the wall.  Each of us would sit in front of the wall until our minds were cleared of the events of the day.  I hadn’t thought of this in years and now I could use this exercise, but I ignore the prompt and continue the opening sequence.  Is this my new “spot on the wall?”  I think so.

We had no pre-set today and I can tell.  My brain moves ahead wondering what I will do next.  I try to return to the movements at hand.  Folding forward, left foot in front, I can feel the familiar ‘wrong-ness’ of my left hip.  I’ve ceased to wonder or ask myself what is there; I simply notice and continue the movement.  I sink gradually into the twist, rolling each vertebra from the base of my spine, onto the floor.  I wait for the tiny popping releases, they do not immediately come.  I slow my movement down and enter each folding twist and subsequent reclining twist with more deliberation.  Eventually I feel my lower back release and give way, the tiny satisfying pops finally making my mood dissipate.  I find myself in the side opening sequence without any real recollection of getting there.  Opening to the side with an inhalation, wide, hips opening, chest and shoulders expanding, my neck feels very stiff.  I never stop the movement.  Closing in on myself as I exhale, drawing my navel so far inward I wonder if I will disappear into myself like scenery into a cartoon hole.  My shoulders love this movement the slow, continual circling, opening, expanding, pulling forward and finally down and around.  I feel I could stay in this movement forever today.  Maybe I will?  No one else is here.  Even though I am alone in my space, my consciousness feels the expansion as it looks for Kate – the room feels larger for this?  Strange.  I wonder where she is in her sequence and where I should be.  Should I be anywhere?  Gradually I come out of the side expansion rolling lazily into pigeon.  On my left I find myself making tiny minute adjustments to deepen the stretch of my left hip.  I check in to ’square my hips’ and feel the stretch reach its terminal point.  Pushing back out of the pose, I eventually move side to side into and out of pigeon in an almost fluid nature, holding the pose only long enough to tweak my posture and then pushing back out of it into the other side.  This fluidity leads into a free movement that is engaging and focused on the opening of my sticky hip sockets.  Eventually I find myself rolling around on the floor.  A simple luxury on a Sunday afternoon.

This is where I wish we had defined our practice.

I find my attention and awareness of my body fading as I become bored with the floor-rolling.  Without preamble I stand up and force myself into a repetition and evolution practice.  My movements are born out of Tai Chi today.  I can feel this, the precise sense of moving low and shifting my weight.  Holding a pose, I vaguely wonder about Butoh and how much longer, slower, deeper I could elongate a movement.  My arms and legs expand and extend from my spine; I feel the energy and the electricity of moving from my dorsal plane.  It is a supportive and energizing place from which to work.  I am enjoying the depth of it, but then I wonder errantly about Kate, where she is in her practise and what she is doing.  I wonder at what time it is.  I feel as though I’ve been in the space forever; although I see it is barely an hour.

I free dance, just because.  I feel I need to round out my practise and finish.  There is a flat feeling as I finish, no grand hoorah, no witnessing, no spark of feedback.  I simply am as I stand in the center of my space, the music still playing.

My friend Kate Russel approached me at our annual Summer Movement Monestary with an interesting proposal; so interesting, I could not decline.  We will meet weekly via on-line video conferencing to practice Dancemeditation together for her Master’s dissertation.  I am intrigued and excited.

This is our first ‘online’ practice.

As we start I felt sticky, tired, sore and in general beat up.  I let my mind fall on the previous days.  Hours spent in my car driving to and from dancing gigs.  Jumping from the vehicle to the restroom, changing, hitting the floor/stage, dancing, sweating all of my make up off and back to the restroom to change, drive home, wash the feet and face, fall into bed.

I agreed to meet Kate at 9AM my time because I have plans this afternoon.  I brazenly stayed up until 3AM… awaking at 8 to prepare my space and resolve any technical issues before our meeting.  I am beyond tired.  I am exhausted and I feel the age of my physical body and the brutality my spirit, emotions and mind have been through this past week.  I have driven myself too hard.  I long for the safety, comfort of and eventual respite given by the practice I am about to engage; for so many reasons.

I realise as I bend forward, in the first instant, the first motion, how much tension is in my hips, always in my hips.  Gradually, through the repeated backward and forward of the opening sequence, I feel this tightness begin to subside.  Kate and I have agreed upon 20 minutes of opening sequence followed by an undetermined amount of time in spinal work (spiraling circles up and down our spines in three prone positions.)  I hear static in the speakers, my mind turns to the technical aspects of our journey this morning.  My first Skyping attempt.  It worked (I’m amazed.)

We talked, we realised neither of us has an appropriate set list by which to do the movement we’re looking for this morning.  I scrambled through, Kate said, “take your time.”  I am not feeling patience this morning.  I want to be…”there” already and to the movies this afternoon, and… never ‘here.’ Dang but I’ve got it bad.  I pull together a set list based on our agreed agenda – Opening sequence, spinal release/circles…who knows what else.  I know I haven’t properly chosen the music in my haste, but I’m ready to get to it.  I’ve plugged my laptop into the external speakers for bigger sound and adjusted the webcam + microphone so that Kate can hear the music…there is static.  I don’t know if she can tell…  There is static from the microphone on her side + the music from my side which is going back into her location (all mixed together.)  I know this will make me crazy if I let it.  I let it go, we’re here for the work, for each other, for Kate’s project… for some unknown (to me) advisor who will read this later and probably laugh.

I hear the static through the speakers and occasionally peel my eyes open to see where Kate is in her flow… we are off, I don’t worry.  Occasionally I see Kate, hovering in a movement, waiting for me to get there… I begin to worry.  I try to let this go.  That’s not what it’s about, us being the same.  Somewhere I know this.  I feel a strange resistance?  Not toward the work…toward the idea that I have to be aware of Kate, other than that we are doing this at the same time.  My mind flits to Dunya, “when it’s just me and Stephanie, we turn on the music, close our eyes and go.”  Stephanie is another Certified Teacher.  My awareness is ‘too outside.’  I bring it back in, I twist back, I feel my lower back stretching into submission.  I go forward to one knee and my left side rebels.  I can’t go too far forward yet in that twist.  Forward to the side, twisting back, my lower back finally gives, a series of satisfying pops in my spine.

I am also consciously aware that Kate has a different sense of what the opening sequence is.  I studied with Dunya earlier.  More recently (since Kate’s been practicing) Dunya has modified the opening.  I let it go.  I move naturally into pigeon after the wide-stance, side-opening sequence.  I peer up to see that Kate has gone into seated spinal twist with gentle up and down.  I go there later in the sequence…I have been away from the group practice too long… I don’t know, somehow I don’t care, I don’t feel that this matters – we are all going to the same place.

I am in a wide legged ‘Chinese’ split (as my Grandfather called them) leaning over one leg, stretching along my side, moving across the front, low to the floor, around to the other side, coming to the center over my hips and reversing the movement.  I love this stretch, fluidly feeling the tension of my ham strings, hip flexors and my torso’s sides gradually give way.  I peer to see Kate following in this …she is unaware that I could continue this exact movement for another hour.  I don’t.

I lay back, cueing Kate that we are entering the spinal twisting sequence.  OMG but I haven’t done this in forever.  I need this desperately.  I feel the largeness and impatient quickness of my movements.  I breathe more deeply and feel the movements slow and become smaller.  I am lying on my left side, right hand tucked near my chin, my right leg carelessly draped over my extended left leg, I feel contained.  As the second set of spirals reaches the base of my skull my eyes roll back into my head.  I’d forgotten the near-ecstasy of feeling this movement as it rolls around the top of my spine, releasing things of which I have no conscious awareness.

We have not set a time for this exercise.  I look over and see that Kate has moved to her back.  In some attempt to stay ‘almost’ in time with her, I move to my back as well.  I do not feel as contained in this position.  My stomach is exposed.  The hiss in the speakers increases and I wonder if Kate can hear it.  I know now if I run the music from my side again, I will use my iPod to run the sound and use the big speakers in the room (speakers that are not attached to the computer or the microphone.)  I vaguely think over the ‘manual’ we will write as we invite other Dancemed’ers into our practice…. remember to set the computer and all programs required to engage in the activity so that they do not “go to sleep/hibernate” in the middle of practice.  Use external sound source (apart from the computer.)  This mental check list runs through my head with a vague awareness of having skipped a vertebrae going up while lying on my right side.  I go back to the base of my spine and try going up again… skipped the vertebrae, again.  What is there?  My brain is only partially here.  I think I should have called Ellen about the movie before I started practice… it’s okay.  I wonder if I’m waking Shelly with the sound… whatever, he’s usually 100 times louder than I am, he can miss some sleep.  I find myself still on the sticky vertebrae… in my lumbar, only two down from the thoracic, what is there?  I roll the spiral around and around just that area and finally wind further up my spine, luxuriating again when I reach the base of my skull.

I vaguely notice the static is gone… sweet….  Then I hear a strange beeping and realise Kate’s gone off-line and is calling back.  I stop the music, answer… ultimately okay with the situation, but a bit stunted.

We talk about the remainder of the practice.  Kate suggests free movement and chanting.  I look at the time and try to shrug it off.  I’m too bound by the clock, I just want my process to unfold in its own time.  I confirm with Kate the free movement and chanting… we decide on free movement for a bit and then lying still to process for a bit.  A bit… I wonder about the length of ‘a bit.’  Free movement feels enjoyable, rolling on the floor, spreading wide, opening, extending, something feels so compressed/compressing lately.  The world?  Weighing down on me?  Stress? Contracting my muscles, making my breath shorter, I feel my arms swing away from my sides and reach out, through my finger tips reaching, grasping, shaking off the confinement.  My body feels that it wants to do things I know it cannot handle, I keep myself in check… we move with elasticity from our center and pull back into ourself.  It feels amazing not to have someone following me in my movement, not having to be aware that someone is following and keep my movements follow-able (I feel this is my hesitation about teaching lately… I feel the weight of teaching.)  Somehow I begin to recognize I have not had enough personal practice, because I am feeling rejuvenated, despite exhaustion.  I look to see Kate seated still.  I follow and we both lie down – to process.  “Susurro” has been the music of the morning…mostly.  It continues and drags my brain into soft, light, lacey places.  I do not think, I just feel my body, things settling, shifting, a lump under my right shoulder letting go…I begin to feel weightless and remember why I love this practice.

I bring my awareness to Kate and find that we are looking for one another.  I move to the camera and we smile.  This feels good.  This feels right… so right I know we will continue with the project and probably grow it, expand it.

We discuss briefly what to chant.  I am in favor of “Ya Hadi” (I always am… I think it is my default.)  Kate confirms the front to back motion, but only after we begin chanting to I realise we didn’t discuss inward or vocal chanting.  It’s too late… I’m being vocal enough for both of us.  Then I hear her, but just the last clipped syllable ‘di.’  I think about the annoying lag time in our over-seas/over internet communication and attempt to let it drop.  I think that I am supposed to hear her and her me in our chanting… I am only slightly frustrated when I feel my shoulders drop.  The muscles along my neck and down into my shoulders release.  A wave of energy floods my body from the top of my spine all the way down and across my body.  This is strange.  Usually I feel energy moving upward.  I feel the chanting coming to an end.  We are both quiet.  I feel amazing.

In the strange and beautiful world that is Dancemeditation, I find it comforting that movement is not necessarily for viewing, and consequently does not have to be stunning or beautiful.  I also frequently find myself reverting to the child-like curiosity that is simple exploration; without real aims or goals, just exploring for the sake of discovery.  Sunday’s movement practice was not where I intended to go, but ultimately it was where we needed to go.  I found myself again delighting in the fact that as I grow, I have learned better to ‘listen.’

Our opening sequence was followed by breath associated movement, all of which was slow, low-key and heavy with energy that did not necessarily want to move.  I had blindfolds, which I eventually asked the movers to put on, but even this did not seem confining enough.  The room still felt ‘too big’ for just the three of us.  Eventually we moved to the silk veils, R & A each choosing vibrant red veils, and I pulled out a stark white one…I just felt that contrast to be interesting.  We moved, thoughtfully, beneath the veils, moving and holding a pose, all of us (we discovered later) with our eyes closed because it seemed to hold the energy closer to us.  I kept having the distinct feeling that it was a rainy day and we were little kids playing tent underneath the dining room table.

Later we witnessed danced…hanging onto the veils like security blankets, but it just seemed right.  With the heaviness of the day, the veils held our energies close to us, allowing more freedom of movement than not.

It began with a challenge…actually, it began when, after asking the powers above to help me get some aspects of my life in order, I was most graciously told that in order for them to help me I must make some sacrifices (at least for a while) which means waking up at 4:30AM for the foreseeable future.

Yesterday, Dunya sent the following:
____________________________________________
Dear Beloved Fellow Dervishes & Dervishes-in-Training,
K. forwarded a message to me about the Feast-for-the-Soul’s (http://www.winterfeastforthesoul.com) proposing a 40-day practice period beginning Jan 15.

It is inspired by this from Rumi:What nine months does for the embryo
Forty early mornings will do for your growing awareness.

I invite you to join this flow of force; if your practice is not currently in motion, now might be a splendid time to activate it.
Love & Blessings!Dunya

PS (It is interesting the ‘early morning’ bit. Something to try.)
______________________________________________

My personal practice started this morning at 5:15 AM. I know it is not the 15th…but since I was already heading in that direction, I made my mind up that there was no time like the present.

It was not the greatest practice ever…but it was practice. I arrived in my front room to realize that the rolling bag with all of the musical equipment from last weekend had not been unpacked and there were cables and drums all over the floor. I spent the first 5 minutes or so just clearing out a space in which I could move. Then, after plugging in my iPod, I realized that I’d taken all of my Dancemeditation music off in order to make room for “Driving” music (again, last weekend’s trip.) I did however have “Kirya” by Ofra Haza, so I just let the album roll. After finally settling in, if one could call it that, I began the opening sequence.

It was so difficult to even want to move between the hour of the morning and the cold in the house. The temperature had been in the high 20’s all night and then the heater clicking on every 10 minutes or so was not a lasting help. I moved. I just did the rote, without thought, without conscious thought, my brain was definitely running, but not on where I was. I had to constantly replace my attention on what I was doing just focusing on the movements at hand. There was no form. As I went from the floor to standing, I felt a release in my 3rd Chakra. My hands had moved close to my body, almost in a scanning way and the release just happened bringing a few tears, but not nearly enough.

I kept going back to my 3rd Chakra, my Solar Plexus, feeling the constant pull of my navel toward my spine. There were multiple movements, all deriving from the pull of my navel toward my spine. I felt the movements changing around the pull of the navel, although I was unaware of anything but some vague circular flow in and around me. Despite my lack of intent or a consciously-driven practice, it happened and there I found myself at the center of me. Amazing how that works, which is why I love this practice.

I was only in it for half an hour, but my world looks differently for it today.

39 days to go….

A couple of years ago I was speaking with Dunya about dance technique and teaching dance technique. She related to me that she was so much happier with Dancemeditation because she didn’t have to put as much ‘thought’ effort into it. Perhaps those weren’t her exact words, but the sense was that Dancemeditaiton is restorative (more so than many movement forms) from a teaching standpoint, while technical classes can definitely be a drain if the student/teacher reciprocation is not working.

In January of this year I began a weekly Dancemeditation class at the studio and we’ve only missed 4 classes since then. I’ve got to state what a triumph this is (regardless that there are typically only 3 students, a different 3 most weeks though) Last night, while stuck in traffic and completely unable to get to the studio in time for Dancemed, I realized what this practice means to me; even if I cannot go as deeply into a session as a teacher than as a student.

One of the participants is a 15/16 year old, home schooler who showed up earlier last year with her mother for one Dancemeditation session, we’ll call her ‘K’. She didn’t come back for about nine months and it was then I found out that this girl (wisp of a girl) dances…everything. She was so busy with her other dancing that she didn’t have time for Dancemeditation. After I had the opportunity to speak with her, K informed me that this type of dance/work wasn’t new to her at all. She had already been involved in Somatic practices, contact improvisation and energy work…and K has probably done more at her age in these areas than I have yet to do! Fortunately, there are actually a few things I can show her she hasn’t yet seen.

A few weeks ago, I had that …thing…I’m still not sure what to call it…tap me on the back of my head and say, “hey, we need to whirl.” And so they did, or rather, I asked them to and they were thrilled to do so. Granted we only had two participants other than myself, but holy guacamole….

When I am ‘running the show’ I only get to watch instead of participate, but there’s an extremely beautiful thing that happens during a group whirling – and it never fails – when the whirlers are momentarily synched up and for one or two revolutions, they move as one. I know they don’t realize what is happening, but from the observer’s point of view, the visual is stunning.

This past Tuesday during Dancemed, we had two brand new souls to add to the session. They had never done the practice before, but I knew they would be alright the instant I said “Close your eyes and let your body move however it needs to move.” They just rocked the place. Perhaps that is my biggest joy in bringing Dancemeditation to our little corner of the world, I get to watch people who say they have no focus, or who say “I can’t dance”, or who, for whatever reason, resist other methods of meditative work finally let go and reach/touch that space that is deep within each of us calling and begging for our attention if we will only slow down and listen. The room lit up and literally crackled with energy, an energy so palpable the participants commented on it later.

This particular posting has been going on for exactly one month now…due to lack of focus toward writing on my part… but everything here needed to be said.

When I was a kid, I would spin and spin until I fell down dizzy and laughing. I think getting dizzy was the whole point.

In the summer of 2002 I attended a 10 day Dancemeditation retreat with Dunya (Dianne McPherson). It was there that I whirled for the first time. I was excited, apprehensive and curious. We were given basic instructions, but I was the only one of the group who had never whirled. When I first got up and began to whirl, I started slowly, but there was an inescapable force that seemed to will me to go faster. I was not prepared. When the dizziness hit it was accompanied by a severe wave of nausea and I staggered toward my pre-prepared pallet against the wall. My total whirling time was 5, maybe 7, minutes, from a 30 minute whirling session. I laid on my blanket, curled up on my right side, back pressed against the wall, watching. I watched the other whirlers in wonder and a little bit of envy. They all seemed so peaceful, serene and very powerful, all at the same time. I felt as though I had missed out on a great opportunity; completely unaware that my experience had been just as complete as anyone Else’s.

Later, after the session had ended and supper was finally cleaned off the table, several of us sat drinking tea talking about the experience. I listened, not completely relating. They spoke of releases and ecstasy, all I had experienced was sickness. It was then that I learned of the natural process of purification that whirling induces. Since then I have read several medically related articles about whirling, all in an attempt to better understand what I had experienced. Some have been helpful, to one degree or another, they have all been a bit confusing, but all in all, very interesting. One study suggests that if a person whirls for 10 minutes and then rests for a short period of time and then whirls again (for any length) that the second whirl will increase energy and the ecstatic results will be enhanced.

I will speak to that last bit with the story of a January 2007 whirling experience. We were using new music for the whirl – from the Fes Festival in Morocco; very powerful and moving. I whirled in the first group and I think that Dunya had forgotten that the piece of music was shorter than what we are used to using, so the session ended after 15 minutes and for whatever reason I was not tired. Typically I will fall out after a whirl and go into that beautiful sleep of annihilation, usually only achieved after very heavy meditative work; this time I could not even lie down I was so wired. I felt as though I wanted to whirl more, but the second group had gotten up and there just wasn’t enough room. After their session ended, Dunya (who is quite brilliant for picking up on the subtle energies of a group) said that if we hadn’t had enough we could get up and whirl again. I, along with two others stood up and began to whirl. At this time I felt a beautiful energy begin to take me over and my whole head was thrown back, involuntarily. I felt as though if I picked up my feet I would fly. It is not the first time I have experienced the ‘flying’ sensation while whirling, but it is the first time that I felt I would fly because someone had picked me up and was carrying me through space. I had only vauge recolections of my movements through the room itself, but afterwards people told me that I had circled the entire room again and again. I never close my eyes during whirling, but my gaze is soft and inward; this time as my head was thrown back, my eyes were looking up at the ceiling which began to melt away revealing the darkened night sky and all the stars in it. I felt laughter bubbling up from the deepest well of my soul and while the laughter did not escape into the night, the vibration of it resonated through my body and I began to cry. I had never felt so loved, so open, so beautiful, so a child of god and creature of the universe as I did at that moment. (After my first whirling experience, Dunya offered me the name “Shamsi”. She said that as she watched me whirl that was the name that repeatedly entered her thoughts. I accepted the name, perhaps not so graciously, but it took me a very long while to acclimate to it. Translated from Arabic, Shamsi means ‘Sunny’ or ‘Sunshine’.) As I whirled on this night, during that second session, I heard my name resonating in a deep baritone, from where I know not, but the voice continued to repeat, you are of the lineage of The Shams. The Sun….the lineage of the Sun…..I am still not certain of what that in particular means, but since that night it has happened to me again and always the feeling is the same; a deep embrace from a loving parent who has been with me since before this body was born. And that is why I whirl, because it always feels like going home.

Here is the spiel I now give prior to each session of whirling, regardless of the group’s experience:
“Whirling is the primary purification practice of most Sufi practitioners. When we whirl we always whirl to the left (counterclockwise) because this puts us in alignment with the spinning of the universe. As we whirl, our left hand faces down and the right hand faces upward, creating an electrical circuit that receives and gives energy which also passes through our hearts. The gaze of the whirler is not a piercing, outward focus, but rather a soft, inward gaze. If the whirler feels unbalanced, looking down at the back of the left hand allows a still, focal point through which balance is regained. In the Dunyavi order our foot work is very personal. Some prefer to pivot around the left foot, remaining in one place throughout the session while others use both feet to step around, which can often lead to revolving around the room while rotating around the self. Because it is the primary purification practice of the Sufis, if one’s body has been overly taxed with stress, toxins or poor nutrition the whirler may experience nausea or some similar discomfort. The important thing to remember throughout the whirl is to breathe, holding one’s breath can sometimes lead to feelings of nausea as well. The speed of the whirling does not matter. My favorite story is of an 80 year old woman named Ruth with whom I whirled one afternoon for 30 minutes. She had never been able to stay up the whole time in previous whirls, but this time she said, “I’m going to do it at my own pace.” And true to her word, I believe an entire revolution for her was approximately 45 seconds to a minute, but she did whirl for the full 30 minutes. Life happens at our own pace, whatever we decide that is, and whirling is no different. To begin, one crosses their arms over their chest to signify ‘the one’ that we are part of the one. Once the whirling has begun, the arms open (the state of ‘open-ness’ is also left to the practitioner, in our order) and the left palm faces down with the right palm up. To end, the whirler simply begins to slow the pace of their rotations, bringing the arms back across their chest until they can stop their movement completely. If the whirler wishes, they can remain standing in the spot where they finished until they are ready to move back into the physical space.