Well we danced, and in spite of rivers of sweat and sore joints, it was magical. What a delight to watch the faces of children and adults alike, all lit up with smiles and exclamations of "look - a fairy!" or "look - an angel!". There is something very moving about those joyful responses. The looks on people’s faces were so rewarding. This is real joy. This is what no amount of money or status can bring. This is stuff to spread around!!
It seems sometimes that much of the world, particularly the Western world, is stuck in this unending cycle of pain and needs a wake-up call. Something has to happen, people have to start taking action to spread positive energy. For example, we will perform the same material we performed on Parliament Hill for the people who work at and who make use of The Well at St. John the Evangelist on Elgin Street. There is no reason why people who are struggling to make life work should have any less beauty in their lives than those who walk the halls of power. And if the positive energy we are offering makes the difference in even one life, then it is wholly worthwhile.
The very first job I had in an office was for a brilliant professor who told me that scholarly knowledge is no greater than any other knowledge. In his view, knowing how to be is just as important as knowing about how something works or knowing how to do something. This conversation stuck in my mind, but until recently, I did not understand its full scope. Since then, I have come to believe that one cannot have a meaningful life without at least two things: we must know not only how things work, or how to be, but also how to act, and I am convinced that acting must be the constant in this equation. In other words, one must ask what do you know, but more importantly, what have you done with that knowledge? What do you feel, but more importantly, what have you done with those feelings? Knowledge and feeling without action are worthless.
But knowledge, feeling and action combined are powerful stuff indeed. One might even call them magic.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Making magic
Well here we go - it's performance night! It's magic time! I can hardly wait to get out there in the freezing weather (I must be flippin' crazy). Honestly, there is something important about being able to transform oneself into someone different, even if only for a few hours at a time. There is real possibility for exploration, both within and without. On top of that, I get to act in ways that I would likely never act at work or in public.
The most amazing thing is how much this feeds my soul. Okay - gotta go - gotta dance!!!!!!
The most amazing thing is how much this feeds my soul. Okay - gotta go - gotta dance!!!!!!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
seeing with new eyes, moving with new feet
Just sitting back and thinking of the upcoming performance on Parliament Hill, and I am getting excited. The magic of authentic movement is powerful. Dancing with these amazing women has already transformed me already, and I suspect that we will all be transformed in unique ways by this creative experience. Even in the first few rehearsals, we were moving around the studio with ease, no one bumping or even brushing anyone else. We immediately had a sense of each other's space and energy, which seems rare and special, to my mind. This group of women is powerful in ways we haven't even begun to tap yet.
Another interesting thing about working with Natasha is that she has pulled us together as a group (she really is our anchor!), but has also encouraged us to be authentic and individual in our movement. I have never worked in another environment where the teamwork has been so organic. The work itself is a challenge, but everyone seems to be focused on that instead of on competing with and comparing ourselves to one another.
Speaking of challenges, the biggest one for me in this piece has been to compose the short sung blessing that we are set to do inside the Centre Block. Natasha challenged me to write something that no speech-writer or politico on the Hill would ever write. We talked about how we have to let go of old ideas, and in this case, I realized that I have so much history in this city. It's a lot to let go of, and yet, it is so important to let go of it, because my perspective cannot otherwise be changed.
It's as though I am returning to this place as a woman transformed. No, I really am returning to this place as a woman transformed. Being on the Hill as a tiny cog in the massive machinery of government is part of who I was, but all that is in the past, because in order to grow and to present this piece authentically, I have to look at both myself and the world with new eyes, to step onto that hill with new feet. To access that authentic voice inside, it is so important to be willing to leave the past in the past, and to challenge oneself to do new things. I may be scared to sing the things I write - but it won't stop me. I have known for a long time that I have something to say, and thanks in large part to working with strong, creative women, I have found a way to say it.
I have a voice. And I finally know how to use it.
Another interesting thing about working with Natasha is that she has pulled us together as a group (she really is our anchor!), but has also encouraged us to be authentic and individual in our movement. I have never worked in another environment where the teamwork has been so organic. The work itself is a challenge, but everyone seems to be focused on that instead of on competing with and comparing ourselves to one another.
Speaking of challenges, the biggest one for me in this piece has been to compose the short sung blessing that we are set to do inside the Centre Block. Natasha challenged me to write something that no speech-writer or politico on the Hill would ever write. We talked about how we have to let go of old ideas, and in this case, I realized that I have so much history in this city. It's a lot to let go of, and yet, it is so important to let go of it, because my perspective cannot otherwise be changed.
It's as though I am returning to this place as a woman transformed. No, I really am returning to this place as a woman transformed. Being on the Hill as a tiny cog in the massive machinery of government is part of who I was, but all that is in the past, because in order to grow and to present this piece authentically, I have to look at both myself and the world with new eyes, to step onto that hill with new feet. To access that authentic voice inside, it is so important to be willing to leave the past in the past, and to challenge oneself to do new things. I may be scared to sing the things I write - but it won't stop me. I have known for a long time that I have something to say, and thanks in large part to working with strong, creative women, I have found a way to say it.
I have a voice. And I finally know how to use it.
Friday, October 26, 2007
After a pause...
It has been too long. So much has happened since the election - connecting with old friends, losing our sweet doggie Liu, getting ready to dance and sing on Parliament Hill, Dillon getting an agent (woo-hoo!), Gabrielle turning eighteen, Poppie celebrating eighty-eight, and more.
Where does the time go, exactly? When I read the first message on Facebook from my grade school friend, Leanne, it seemed like only yesterday that we were sitting up late in her parents' kitchen, laughing ourselves silly over boys and Strawberry Tart cookies. And yet, it has been more than a dozen years since we last saw one another. Looking at all these old friends and acquaintances, I find myself remembering little bits of life as it was, and I wonder how exactly life got to be the way it is now. Sometimes, it seems like I blinked and the world changed. Sometimes, it seems like it has been eons, and the world has hardly changed at all. I can look in the mirror sometimes and see the face of my mother, and then, ten minutes later, the same reflection looks like the girl of twenty-one. Somehow, though, it doesn't seem the slightest bit strange to see such things.
Where does the time go, exactly? When I read the first message on Facebook from my grade school friend, Leanne, it seemed like only yesterday that we were sitting up late in her parents' kitchen, laughing ourselves silly over boys and Strawberry Tart cookies. And yet, it has been more than a dozen years since we last saw one another. Looking at all these old friends and acquaintances, I find myself remembering little bits of life as it was, and I wonder how exactly life got to be the way it is now. Sometimes, it seems like I blinked and the world changed. Sometimes, it seems like it has been eons, and the world has hardly changed at all. I can look in the mirror sometimes and see the face of my mother, and then, ten minutes later, the same reflection looks like the girl of twenty-one. Somehow, though, it doesn't seem the slightest bit strange to see such things.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Best things
Just finished reading Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones - highly recommend it. I won't ruin it for anyone who hasn't read it, but I will say that it prompted me to ask what kinds of things I love and might have forgotten about or be taking for granted. I'm talking about little things like the feel of the pages of a book and the joy of discovering new worlds in those pages. And of course, people who share great books (Thanks, Mom! I needed to be reminded of the joy of reading something other than the news and the reports and memos I read at work!).
Now these aren't daffodils, but these flowers make my day every time I see them. Some of you know why. People who have left us really do come calling, really do watch us. That little kernel of knowledge is one of the best things in life.
Now these aren't daffodils, but these flowers make my day every time I see them. Some of you know why. People who have left us really do come calling, really do watch us. That little kernel of knowledge is one of the best things in life.
Monday, August 13, 2007
what do you carry with you?
What a transformative experience on Saturday night! Through the magic of costume, makeup and dance, I was one of the Fairy-Light Circle Dance fairies who flitted and danced our way through Stanley Park in Vanier during Lumière Festival 2007. What a thrill to see thousands of lanterns and thousands of people all lit up and glowing!
It was beautiful - a balmy, starry night with the sounds of jazz drifting by. We "flitted" down the paths in the park, and met fairy after fairy, sporting both lanterns and grins from ear to ear. In the darkened grove of trees at one end of the park, lanterns hung from branches, and strains of French melodies played on an accordion graced the breeze. The tennis courts were transformed into an outdoor movie palace, and a labyrinth of lanterns set the baseball diamond aglow. Stilt-walkers strode by, storytellers told tall tales, and fire-weavers whirled and dazzled with their flaming batons. The wild drumming circle could be heard ever-so-faintly throughout the park, electrifying the atmosphere, along with the Perseid meteor showers overhead.
The transformation wasn't just about the costume. We fairies were not to talk for the entire performance, which ran from about 7:30 pm to just before midnight. The only thing we could do was gesture or use the bells attached to our costumes. I wondered how on earth I could go for so long without saying a word, but despite my trepidation, dance and bells worked beautifully. I was pleasantly surprised to find the musician in me appreciating more of the surrounding sights and sounds. The things we never knew could delight us!
On the fringes and sometimes within the crowd, the occasional doubters or deriders tried to get performers to come out of character, to slip up. The very air around them was full of mischief (and in some cases malice or the kind of false bravado brought on by too much wine, or by staying up past bedtime, in the case of some of the children who stayed late). They seemed to have abandoned faith in things unseen, the belief in the power of magic, and seemed dulled by this doubt and disbelief. I wondered why they burdened themselves thusly, but remained my fairy self, sure of the magic I and my fellow performers were weaving. As the doubters melted away, confused by their inability to break the spell, I felt a little sorry for them.
We danced until nearly midnight, and I delighted in hearing our audience's constant exclamations of "Look - fairies!" and "Oh look - angels!" People vyed for our attention, to snap a photo, or as one tiny girl ladybug managed to do, get a prized hug from a fairy (our choreographer/leading fairy dancer, Natasha aka, Moon Fairy). But as I already mentioned, the real magic came not just from looking like fairies, but from connecting with breath and body, the places, the sounds, and most of all, the people around us (even the doubters!). We drew in fairies, wizards and magical people of all ages, and the magic came from offering our energy to all of them. The energy that they offered in return confirms my belief that the energy we give out is the energy we get back. That kind of magic is something I will carry with me for the rest of my days.
It was beautiful - a balmy, starry night with the sounds of jazz drifting by. We "flitted" down the paths in the park, and met fairy after fairy, sporting both lanterns and grins from ear to ear. In the darkened grove of trees at one end of the park, lanterns hung from branches, and strains of French melodies played on an accordion graced the breeze. The tennis courts were transformed into an outdoor movie palace, and a labyrinth of lanterns set the baseball diamond aglow. Stilt-walkers strode by, storytellers told tall tales, and fire-weavers whirled and dazzled with their flaming batons. The wild drumming circle could be heard ever-so-faintly throughout the park, electrifying the atmosphere, along with the Perseid meteor showers overhead.
The transformation wasn't just about the costume. We fairies were not to talk for the entire performance, which ran from about 7:30 pm to just before midnight. The only thing we could do was gesture or use the bells attached to our costumes. I wondered how on earth I could go for so long without saying a word, but despite my trepidation, dance and bells worked beautifully. I was pleasantly surprised to find the musician in me appreciating more of the surrounding sights and sounds. The things we never knew could delight us!
On the fringes and sometimes within the crowd, the occasional doubters or deriders tried to get performers to come out of character, to slip up. The very air around them was full of mischief (and in some cases malice or the kind of false bravado brought on by too much wine, or by staying up past bedtime, in the case of some of the children who stayed late). They seemed to have abandoned faith in things unseen, the belief in the power of magic, and seemed dulled by this doubt and disbelief. I wondered why they burdened themselves thusly, but remained my fairy self, sure of the magic I and my fellow performers were weaving. As the doubters melted away, confused by their inability to break the spell, I felt a little sorry for them.
We danced until nearly midnight, and I delighted in hearing our audience's constant exclamations of "Look - fairies!" and "Oh look - angels!" People vyed for our attention, to snap a photo, or as one tiny girl ladybug managed to do, get a prized hug from a fairy (our choreographer/leading fairy dancer, Natasha aka, Moon Fairy). But as I already mentioned, the real magic came not just from looking like fairies, but from connecting with breath and body, the places, the sounds, and most of all, the people around us (even the doubters!). We drew in fairies, wizards and magical people of all ages, and the magic came from offering our energy to all of them. The energy that they offered in return confirms my belief that the energy we give out is the energy we get back. That kind of magic is something I will carry with me for the rest of my days.
Friday, July 06, 2007
fire and stillness
Fired up right now, with lots of creative ideas zipping around in my head and seemingly little time in which to express them. Something is telling me I have more to do, and that the office I work in right now is not the place in which I am meant to do it. I know I like this place and the people in it, but I have got more to give. Maybe it's possible to satisfy myself outside of work, through my dancing and composing: all I know is that I am growing and changing. Life is in transition right now, but I have been fighting it. I need to ride that wave.
I think the first thing to do is eliminate excess noise and distraction. I need to hear my own music. Thing is, though, that music and words come at the oddest times. The other day, I was talking with Natasha about the theme for our upcoming dance performance, and boom! All of a sudden, after a week of coming up with bubkus, something she said, just a little turn of a phrase, set me writing again. I guess the main thing is not to be so constantly filing my head with noise (i.e. television, the news, too much listening to my iTunes library). I just need to give myself more time to listen and to think. This seems to be when really cool things happen. This so-called age of information is the potential death of creativity because we don't have enough time to stop and look around us, unless we make the time to do so.
Deep. So now, a reminder to myself...
I think the first thing to do is eliminate excess noise and distraction. I need to hear my own music. Thing is, though, that music and words come at the oddest times. The other day, I was talking with Natasha about the theme for our upcoming dance performance, and boom! All of a sudden, after a week of coming up with bubkus, something she said, just a little turn of a phrase, set me writing again. I guess the main thing is not to be so constantly filing my head with noise (i.e. television, the news, too much listening to my iTunes library). I just need to give myself more time to listen and to think. This seems to be when really cool things happen. This so-called age of information is the potential death of creativity because we don't have enough time to stop and look around us, unless we make the time to do so.
Deep. So now, a reminder to myself...
Sunset over the pond at Phoenix Ranch, near Romulus, NY. Be still and listen.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Body movin'
Just a few pics to inspire movement and action. Enjoy!
A. (Photos by A.Loken unless otherwise stated)
Natasha Royka in rehearsal prior to the Dance Space open house in May.
Neil Petkus (green belt) testing for next belt level in May (successfully).
A. (Photos by A.Loken unless otherwise stated)
Natasha Royka in rehearsal prior to the Dance Space open house in May.
Neil Petkus (green belt) testing for next belt level in May (successfully).
Friday, June 22, 2007
dancing with fireflies
Well, what a night! Clouds of mosquitoes aside, we made some magic happen in that garden on Thursday night. After a day full of rain, thunderstorms and severe weather warnings, the bravest of us defied the warnings and drove out to Almonte. The skies became crystal clear at about seven-thirty in the evening, and we had a gorgeous sunset at about nine o'clock. The dance was a meditation in motion, with several moments of everyone dancing in perfect unison. As we exited the herb garden, the fireflies puncuated our movement in graceful arcs in the darkness around us, and the stars peeked out in the sky. Magic, magic, magic.
So many strong, intelligent, beautiful women in the world! It was not so much fun to be out there being bitten by mosquitoes, but I can say that I danced with fireflies and sang with the stars, and I did so with some remarkable women of varied ages and backgrounds. One thing, however, did not vary - each one was beautiful. I can hardly wait until July and August! My songs and sounds are going to fill the air! July will be the Dance in the Garden workshop, and hopefully August will bring the Lumiere Festival, where we'll repeat the piece "Queen Mab's Footsteps", and I will get to sing my first vocal melody again. There is something about that tune that tells me it will influence future compositions. Got to write more tunes like that!
So many strong, intelligent, beautiful women in the world! It was not so much fun to be out there being bitten by mosquitoes, but I can say that I danced with fireflies and sang with the stars, and I did so with some remarkable women of varied ages and backgrounds. One thing, however, did not vary - each one was beautiful. I can hardly wait until July and August! My songs and sounds are going to fill the air! July will be the Dance in the Garden workshop, and hopefully August will bring the Lumiere Festival, where we'll repeat the piece "Queen Mab's Footsteps", and I will get to sing my first vocal melody again. There is something about that tune that tells me it will influence future compositions. Got to write more tunes like that!
Sunday, June 10, 2007
dancing in the dark
Well, it has been a while indeed! Been posting on MySpace and forgot to bounce back here to post something. Getting tired of the Friend Requests and all that nonsense over there, so I think it's gonna be this blog from now on.
Summer Solstice is fast approaching, and though I haven't ever really paid too much attention to such things, I think this year will be different: I will be debuting a new composition to accompany a dance choreographed by my friend Natasha Royka. Should be fun, dancing in a garden in the dark, singing and trying to keep mosquitoes from flying into my mouth...
Anyway, I will post my reflections on this event anf the days leading up to it: it should be loads of fun!
The photos are some shots I took at the Dance/Space 637 Open House that took place on May 11th. We all had a great time, and boy can these gals all dance!
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