Flow and Gratitude: Blood on the Veil in Orlando -- Part 4 -- Magical Moments and Hidden Helping Hands

When last we saw our heroines (and heroes!) they had survived scheduling insanity, travel travesties, and automotive madness among the mudpies ... and now it was SHOWTIME!!!

Friday, August 8th started as a surprisingly normal day (save for a little weed-whacker-induced sleep deprivation, due to our neighbors' accursed early-to-rise ways ... Oh Florida!).

Cheerful audience members Claudia Selene Smith, Jayne Arrington
(of DanceCraft, who took these lovely photos) and Yvonne McKenna

Mariposa and I got our chi flowing with a little bikram in the tropical garage/studio, then pulled together props and costumes. Unfortunately, Mariposa's shamadan suffered an injury in transit -- but Matt and Leann Drury saved the day by lending us their own gorgeous candelabra.

I banged the programs together and sent them off to Staples for printing, and we were out the door shortly before 6pm.

We swung by Staples to get the programs (which apparently had never been received), but thankfully I had the job on a thumb drive and got them printed within 20 minutes.

And to think I NEARLY left the thumb drive at home.....

Isis wows us with her dumbek stylings in the finale!

This is typical of pretty much every near-disaster that has occurred at so many performances of Blood on the Veil:

Something unexpected and potentially catastrophic happens close to curtain. BUT because someone in or near to the production just so happens to have or know what is needed -- the show goes on!!

To quote Tom Baker's Doctor:  I have a sort of vague faith in the nature of things. Things may look bad, but if you hang on and keep faith, it puts you in a kind of flow, a rhythm, where what is needed either presents itself in the moment -- or beforehand you bring something along which turns out to be the very thing you need... and you have saved yourself.

And so no matter how bad it looks, it can work out. Something, somewhere, will pitch in to help you.

Hardly a day passes when I don't think of Joseph Campbell's exchange with Bill Moyers:

BILL MOYERS: Do you ever have the sense of... being helped by hidden hands?

"I wrapped the veil around me in a peek-a-boo style
when I heard a knock at the door...!"

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: All the time. It is miraculous. I even have a superstition that has grown on me as a result of invisible hands coming all the time - namely, that if you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be. [emphasis added]

And when we got to the theater, programs in hand -- the magic that makes it all worthwhile unfolded spectacularly.

Since we had arrived late, there was no time for a cue-to-cue (this is when you give the tech the line before a cue occurs, and they run the light or sound effect so you can make sure it happens properly).

But our tech, Hannah, was amazing!

She programmed the entire show blind as the eager audience entered... And Melody, our superb stage manager, whipped props and costumes into perfect order.

Showcasing Fan Veils with the divine Phoenicia

The lights went up ... our magnificent emcee, Marc B Lee, introduced the evening and brought up our first two acts -- the oriental stylings of Isis, followed by the sultry Lisa Stern.

And then it was my turn....

At the beginning of each show, I always feel like I am approaching the top of a roller coaster ... I can almost feel my body pitch backwards as the lights begin to rise.

"For most of my life..." the show begins, "I was at war ... with my belly... Because the belly was the enemy of dance, and I wanted to be a dancer!!"

And the story unfolds ... how my beginnings in ballet brought me to love movement ... but to hate the unruly curves of my body. How, like so many women, I'd battled my bulges, and abused my body to the point of collapse.

Stunning Phoenicia enraptures the audience with her fan veil solo.

Two hospitalizations and three herniated discs later, I found bellydance... and with it renewed passion, courage, creativity and love for my soft, rounded body.

"For as long as you dance, this ancient women's
dance will rise and laugh in the face of...attacks."

"My curves flourish in this dance... and in my teachers and fellow dancers I can see the Promised Land:  They are every different age, size, race, background  -- and every single one of them is beautiful!!"

After intermission, our Senior Dancer, Phoenicia, wowed the audience with a riveting karshilama followed by her breathtaking fan veils.

And then the lights went up for Act 2....

But rather than continue on about the show myself, here are some of the thoughts of those who were with me for this remarkable journey!!!

I owe them such a debt of gratitude for their faith and fortitude during this adventure.

And we are all looking forward to doing it again in 2015!!

                                                                                     

Winged Mariposa wows the audience in the Parade of Props

Mariposa (Cane Dancer): When Carol told me that she was bringing the show to Orlando, Florida, I was thrilled! She contacted me along with several other local dancers to ask if they could participate in the show. I immediately responded with a resounding, YES!

All dancers performing in the cane dance was given video of the choreography and breakdown of the dance. I enjoyed learning the choreography this way. It was convenient; the video was very detailed and I could do it when I had time.

I performed the Cane Dance as well as other props in a segment at the end of the First Act called the “Parade of Props.” I think that this segment in the show is priceless and highly educational to the audience.

Many do not know much about bellydancing, which Carol lends her expertise throughout her entire performance defining the Art in detail. But the props section takes it a bit further. The props are the dancer's tools to bring another dimension to the Dancer and her performance. The props are the dancer's paint brush, illuminating the stage with various hues and tints and in some cases, vibrant colors as endless as the sea, floating levitating silk veils, leaving the audience gasping at the sheer beauty of it.

Audience member Odalis Ramos joins us
for the cane dance!

Carol’s Blood on the Veil is a priceless piece of art and personal story.

It is provocative, riveting and as comfortable as a Sunday afternoon watching the sunset across the deep blue sea. Carol succeeds at transporting you to her moments in time, her struggle and her own personal victories.

It leaves you inspired and ready to go out and conquer your own dreams and goals.

Phoenicia (Senior Dancer): As a "mature" dancer I have been involved with many groups and individuals with something to say about belly dance and I have performed in countless shows, benefits, haflas, parties, workshops, and conventions over the years.

Dancing for an audience is always a privilege and delight but when I was invited to open the second act of BOTV it became one of the highlights of my dance life. Carol's show is not only entertaining but also empowering and bringing in local dancers when she travels with it makes each performance even more special to that audience.

I hope BOTV runs for decades because there will always be new stars to showcase and yesterday's stars to pass on their love and knowledge of the dance. Well done Carol!

"Seven years earlier an injury had brought me to
this dance... but I had not learned my lesson..."

Leann Drury (Host): What an incredible show! Not at all what I'd expected. The name of the show, initially was challenging as the word "blood" denotes lots of different images, none usually positive, but being a bellydance show aficionado and having attended shows from intimate house parties, to studio haflas, to community run charitable shows, to full stage productions over the last 20 years, I knew there was something different about this show and the appeal of this dancer that I just had to sate my curiosity. Boy did she deliver!

Carol shared her transformative story in a courageous, touching, entertaining way that explored and played with her past, the challenges of healing, politics, perceptions, adventures around the world and stops along the way in a self-effacing manner that draws you in and makes you a part of the journey.

She touched me in a way that left me wanting to hear the next chapter and for this appreciative fan, that's saying something.

Emcee Marc B Lee dances with the cast and audience
members during the finale!

Lisa Stern (Pre-Show Dancer): My first impressions of the show … was that I really didn't understand what it was! The title made no sense to me and I had little interest with my busy schedule. A dear friend of mine asked for dancers and of course that's a big fat yes.

The more I heard about this, watched practice, learned that my friends were dancing, and of course met Carol, the more intrigued I became. After all we all have a story and we all have that one prop we LOVE.

 Well come to find out Carol not only is hilarious, but she is a wonderful dancer, has a huge heart and what a talent! Every single prop she is a master of and basically does a 2 hour one-man show non-stop that she wrote herself! Incredible lady, very entertaining show, and I was very honored to meet her, call her my new friend, and participate in such an amazing event. Thank you Carol!

Hanging out after the show with the lovely
Nicole Palmer and Odalis Ramos.

Fin!

P.S. Check out the special feature on Blood on the Veil in the next issue of Zaghareet!!

Flow and Gratitude: Blood on the Veil in Orlando -- Part 3 -- Mudpies and Automotive Madness

"It's all going to work out..."

So far I had survived various scheduling and cast-wrangling mishigos, and a few travel hiccups. And after a good night's sleep, I was stoked for my first and last rehearsal with the cast of Orlando's Blood on the Veil.

Our sponsor, Rita, met me for brunch in the early afternoon where we went over some administrative details, briefly rehearsed the trickier parts of the cane dance, then packed up props and technology to head up to Apopka, a suburb to the northwest of Orlando.

Me with two of Lisa's fine horses.

Lisa Stern, a dancer in the show who also runs the gorgeous Trademark Equestrian Center, had generously been letting the cast rehearse in her studio during the weeks leading up to the show. Normally the trip takes under a half-hour. But we were caught in Florida's mid-afternoon monsoon, which slowed the trip down to 90 minutes!

As the rain pattered to a drizzle, we arrived:  Off the beaten path (or what path there was, was beaten by hooves!), and lush with greenery, and kept lively by many four-legged and feathered friends, we drove along the muddy path and parked on higher, firmer ground.

Our senior dancer Phoenicia,  however, was not so lucky.

In Lisa's Studio. L to R: Sarge, Rita, Lisa

Around 10pm, when we had reviewed her part of the show, she asked to leave early as she had a long drive ahead of her. Lisa went with her to unlock the gate, as Rita, Mariposa and I continued to rehearse the cane dance for an hour, figuring Lisa would want her house back at 11pm.

An hour later, as we packed up our props, Lisa burst into the studio.

"Can you guys give me a hand? Phoenicia's car is stuck. I think if we all give it a good push we can get it out." We trundled out to the hapless vehicle, mired in a loamy mixture of mud and horse manure. We braced ourselves against the grill and pushed mightily as Phoenica floored it in reverse. Again and again.

Communing with Gentle Sarge

"I called AAA over an hour ago," sighed Phoenicia. "I'll try them again..."

"Maybe we should try from the back and let me take the wheel?" Mariposa suggested -- which seemed like a good idea since her father had taught her to race stock cars. While Phoenicia gave AAA another nudge, Rita brought her car around and turned on her headlights so we could see what the #$@% we were doing! And we rammed ourselves against the rear bumper as she sped forward.

The wheels spun. Again and again.

Now it was near midnight. Phoenicia said that the AAA driver was down by the airport -- over an hour away!

Lisa disappeared and returned moments later with sheets of cardboard. "Here. Let's try these." We jammed them beneath the front tires and tried again.

Nada.

She then brought a half-broken chair with flat legs. We ripped the chair apart and jammed the legs beneath the wheels, banging them in fiercely with two shovels.

Still nothing.

It was after 1am. We were muddy and exhausted. "Any news on AAA?" we asked Phoenicia. "The other driver had gone home sick," she sighed, "They are sending someone else."

Lisa brought her truck by, hoping we could nudge it forward -- but her fender was too high and would ride up straight into Phoenicia's hatch.

"What would you like us to do?"

"Just go home," Phoenicia offered, "I'll wait here."

Absolutely not, we decided. The driver was over an hour away -- we had to try every possible option. And we were certainly not going to leave her there.

Digging a path to freedom .... we hoped!!

The front tires were now buried up to the fender. "Let's try digging out the front?" I suggested. So Mariposa and I grabbed our respective shovels, wrenching them into the mud for nearly an hour, flattening over a smooth yard of packed dirt in front of the car. We dug beneath the wheels so the front was completely clear and the wheel bottoms were visible.

Lisa and Rita pulled up slabs of concrete from the driveway and we jammed those beneath the wheels.

Mariposa floored it, while the rest of us pushed and pushed.

And the wheels just spun  ... we began to smell the rubber burning against the concrete.

Now it was after 2am.

Rita was fading -- and she had to get up the next morning to work. "The rest of us can sleep in," I told her, "Please, go home and go to bed. We'll stay until AAA gets here."

So she reluctantly headed home while the rest of us washed off our feet. About 20 minutes later, AAA arrived.

"He's having trouble reaching the hook beneath the car," Phoenica said. Apparently the car had sunk so deeply that the hook beneath the front fender was buried. We dug out a bit more, and Mariposa managed to pull back just enough.

The right-front wheel was dug in nearly a foot.

And the tow was in place!

In moments, the car was free and Phoenicia was on her way!

(Sidenote:  It turned out that the chassis was resting on solid and apparently non-muddy ground, while the wheels flew free!! At right is a photo taken two days later. See where the right-front wheel had dug itself in like a deranged groundhog.)

Mariposa and I said our goodbyes to Lisa and her furry friends and headed south -- aching, exhausted, and ravenously hungry.

"Pancakes?" she suggested as we approached a waffle house. "Yeahhhh!!!!" She swung into the parking lot, and within minutes we were ploughing our forks into syrup-soaked waffley goodness at 2:30am.

Mariposa digs in to well-earned yummies!!

Bellies full, we headed back to the Drury's for some much-needed rest.

After all, tomorrow was showtime!!!

To be continued...

Flow and Gratitude: Blood on the Veil in Orlando -- Part 2 -- Travel Travails!

"Oh yes we can!!" 

(When last we left our heroines, local sponsor Rita Van Trump (Maat Kare) had agreed to host Blood on the Veil in her hometown, this time adding local dancers to the show....)

After a quick chat with the lovely Lisa of the John & Rita Lowndes Shakespeare Center in Orlando, which hosted the show in 2012, we were booked and ready to get the ball rolling.

The first step:  Reach out to local dancers. 

The show is now structured to accommodate up to 16 additional performers as pre-show soloists, walk-ons (or rather dance-ons ☺ ) during the Parade of Props, cane dancers for the show's only group choreography, a Senior Dancer, and an emcee.  

Rita created a Facebook group and invited about a dozen dancers. 

Several began to learn the cane choreography through our online instructional video (yay technology!), a few others signed on as pre-show, and we were blessed to have the stunning Phoenicia -- a former member of Anahid Sofian's troupe -- agree to be our Senior Dancer, and the incomparable MC of MCs Marc B. Lee (a long-time host to everyone from visiting dignitaries to the cast of Star Trek who MCd the 2012 production) to introduce the acts. 

Some BOTV Cast members, L to R: Isis, Lisa, Tandava, Phoenicia, Rita

Weeks went by; some dancers dropped out, others signed on. And in the end we had an excellent cast of six:  Marc and Phoenicia as MC and Senior Dancer, respectively; Irene Isis and Lisa Stern as our opening acts. 

And joining me for her very first cane dance was Rita herself!

My dear friend Mariposa, with whom I had shared the stage many times in NY and in the Far East, agreed to travel up from Tampa. 

I booked a ticket to fly up Wednesday afternoon so we could rehearse on Thursday.

And things were going swimmingly Tuesday night. I had a quick Skype session with Mariposa to go over the cane choreography, packed my bags and got up well rested on Wednesday morning for my 2:35pm flight out of JFK.

Now.

I am not the most punctual person. 

In fact, it is safe to say that, having been born five days late, I have continued this less-than-ideal habit throughout my life. So traveling by air is always stressful; I always worry I'll miss my alarm, or some delaying catastrophe will happen at home.

But this time it went like clockwork. I woke up in plenty of time to get together and walked out my front door shortly before 12:30pm. It takes a little over an hour door-to-door to get to JFK Airport via public transportation, which had always been my experience -- and Google Maps agreed, so an hour it was!!

NYC's A Train, from Harlem to Far Rockaway

This time, however, I had two suitcases, which perhaps slowed me down just enough to miss my train. And the following one was delayed, arriving shortly after 2pm. There was construction at Aqueduct, which slowed us down a bit -- but I still arrived at the A Train's Howard Beach stop around 1:30pm -- still plenty of time, right???

WRONG!

It turned out the Air Train which goes from the subway to the terminals only had one train in service. So this meant a longer wait, and more crowded cars -- which took a lot longer at each stop.

And I was going to American Airlines -- Terminal 8!!

O, JFK Air Train -- Usually I Love You, But Not Today....

The darned thing took nearly a half hour. I scrambled like a madwoman to the checkin counter ... only to be told that I had missed the 42-minute check-in cutoff by less than five minutes.

"We can put your suitcase in storage and you can pick it up when you get back..." offered the clerk.

I explained that I was performing in a show and that the bag contained my costumes and props. "Well...I can put you on a flight leaving tomorrow morning at 6am..." he said.

I almost cried.

"Wait a minute," he offered and stepped away, returning a few minutes later. I can put you on a flight leaving from LaGuardia at 4:30pm stopping at Dallas. There will be an extra charge, though."

Oh God, I whimpered inside... Here it comes. "How much?" I squeaked.

"$3.70. Is that OK?"

My jaw dropped. "Yes! Yes! Thank you!!" He printed my ticket and I ran to the taxi line -- which was about 50 people deep, which freaked me out a little. But I kept breathing and telling myself -- this is all going to be OK. (And YAY for American Airlines!!)

Vintage American Airlines Logo

And sure enough, I arrived in plenty of time. Both flights left on schedule and I arrived in Orlando as planned, shortly after midnight.

My host, Matt, graciously met me at the airport in spite of the hour with a big much-needed hug.

"It's all going to work out," I told him, and repeated the mantra under my breath....

Continued in Part 3...

Flow and Gratitude: Blood on the Veil in Orlando -- Part 1 -- The Drama Begins!

"I don't think you create drama, per se ... but it sure seems to follow you around!!"

Two days ago I returned from Orlando -- capping off a deliriously fabulous remount of Blood on the Veil at the John & Rita Lowndes Shakespeare Center, where we'd produced the show two years ago.

That show went off without a hitch. I'd flown in on Thursday afternoon and -- even though I was completely unknown in the Orlando area, but the lovely Liz Langley of NPR gave the show a boost on her show -- an audience of some-odd 30 people showed up Friday night to see one sweaty lady dance a monologue for 75 minutes.

But this time we knew from the beginning it would be different.

Last year in San Francisco I added a new section discussing the different styles of bellydance and the wide variety of props we use. That segment ends with a rip-roaring cane dance which sends the audience into intermission with a smile.

When we mounted the show again here in NYC, I brought in three additional dancers and an emcee. Two dancers would open the show with their respective solos, and then join me at the end of Act 1 for the cane dance and "Parade of Props."  Then the third -- a Master Teacher who had been dancing for 25 years or more -- would open the second act.

During the months' long run, we had a stunning variety of Master Teachers, including the legendary Morocco -- who is the dance historian I quote in the show -- and internationally known dancers such as Nourhan Sharif, Rayhana, Jehan, Shoshana, Dalia Carella, Layla Mary, Aszmara, and Altagracia Bruno.

And nearly each show had some bizarre catastrophe usually involving theater drama which were resolved in unexpected-to-miraculous ways -- like the dressing rooms were inexplicably locked (I jimmied them with an old credit card I'd forgotten to throw out), or the CD player had been stolen from the booth by the prior theater group (an audience member happened to have a portable CD player!). And on and on.

The one with the CD player was especially strange. It was the night Morocco was set to perform and she arrived with her music only on CD. A few other minor things had gone wrong that evening and we had just resolved them, and when that happened, I had that moment of internal collapse, somewhere between "I give up" and "somehow this will work out."

I went out to buy the wine for concession and passed my mother who was just arriving. "Is everything OK?" she asked. "I can't even..." I shook my head.

When I returned, Morocco brandished the portable CD player with a grin. "It's OK!" she beamed, "We got it!!"

My tech Alex plugged it in, we did our quick sound and light check and we were good to go!!

And show after show this sort of thing would happen ... it was as though the lesson I needed to learn was that no matter what, this show would go on!!!

With that in mind, I contacted my Florida sponsor, Rita Van Trump, and asked if she'd like to put together the show in this new format -- with local dancers joining me for for the very first time.

This meant a bunch of people I had never met in my life, who had probably not seen the show two years before, and had no idea who I was would commit to learning a complex cane dance as well as the comedic bits for the Parade of Props.

"So, can we do this?" I asked?

"Oh yes we can!" was her resounding reply.

Continued  in Part 2....

True Beauty

In a recent blog entry, acclaimed writer (and awesome guy) Don Cummings mused on beauty in the media, about the "women who are upset...about the images that are being fed to them," admitting, "It's awful," but asking, "Can't the women in movies and on T.V. still be pretty? ... As far as magazines go, the air brushing and slimming and all that, well that's just hell. But please leave me my good looking film and television actors. I'm getting old and loose and I like to be reminded of what it once was like. Hot is hot. It keeps us going. Some joy, please."

So I thought about this for a while, as someone who feels strongly that the emphasis on beauty (especially upon women) is damaging to women personally, and to the culture as a whole... And I thought about the breathtakingly beautiful actors I love to watch. And I thought about the actors who are physically beautiful, and yet whom I find unwatchable because their acting is thin and self-serving.

So I responded with this (slightly modified) comment to Don's entry:

The problem isn't so much not wanting beauty in media, but rather that the definition of "beauty" (certainly where women are concerned) isn't really beauty at all, but conformity to a very narrow set of Barbie-esque physical characteristics that are in fact unhealthy to the point of being grotesque. 

But women are told that if we don't conform to this standard, we won't be valued -- as women or people!

And men are so conditioned to value this standard, that they will override their own natural impulse to see beauty in women who don't fit this standard, in order to maintain status with their male friends. 

I have known quite a few men who have rejected women they admitted to being attracted to -- physically and intellectually -- in favor of a Barbie-esque "beautiful" woman to whom they didn't feel much innate attraction, but whom they believed their friends and family would value more and thereby grant them higher status.

In terms of media, the double-standard is evident. 

You say, "Don't take away the beautiful women." But look at the men. They are all different shapes and sizes, and they all get the girl... who always looks the same: slim, young, even-featured, and usually large-breasted.

It is said that Cleopatra was the most beautiful woman in the world, but that was not because her physiognomy was so special, but rather her charisma and intelligence were irresistible. 

In a recent meme, Emma Thompson is quoted as advising actresses, in response to demands that they "lose weight", to ask, "Is this important for the character?" And if it isn't then they should ask the casting director to tell them that what they want is a model, not an actress. 

In the early '90s, balding, aging actors like Patrick Stewart and Anthony Hopkins became sex symbols -- based on their power as performers and men. Women found them very beautiful indeed. It's said that Patrick Stewart telephoned a woman suffering from ovarian cancer, and the disease went into remission almost immediately.

So it's not that anyone wants less beauty in the media; in fact, we want more of it, in all of its stunning, fascinating, riveting, and transformative variety.

Needless to say, this is a topic I have given a great deal of thought to -- especially in my ten years in bellydance -- often regarded as a quintessentially sexy-beautiful dance form. And it is something I address strongly in Blood on the Veil -- that beauty comes from feeling and expression, from vitality and confidence, far more than from physiognomy.

As I mentioned in a recent ReviewFix interview:  What we want is an experience of beauty, where a thing is beautiful to us because it resonates deeply. This kind of beauty is arresting and powerful, sometimes even disturbing, because it tells us something about ourselves -- and we don't always want to know about ourselves.

The beauty of physiognomy may be pleasing and comforting, and to be sure it has its place in the culture. But it doesn't give us anything new or nourishing or unique, it simply recycles the current images that we are told to value -- and if we do as we are told, then we will be valued too ... or so we are led to believe.

But if we let ourselves respond naturally to the world around us -- regardless of what we are told to believe -- to find what is beautiful to us, uniquely, and enjoy that beauty for its own sake rather than as a way to seek acceptance and approval from others ... how vast and beautiful and joyful might our lives become?

And how might our appreciative gaze nourish the world itself, in its magnificent variety, into greater and greater beauty?

Framing Beauty: How I Fell in Love with Sharifwear

"My curves flourish in this dance. And in my fellow dancers and teachers, I can see the Promised Land:  They are different shapes and ages and sizes and every single one of them is beautiful!"  (from the "Body's Language" segment of Blood on the Veil.)

Even in my first bellydance classes with SharQui's Oreet, I realized there was something different about this dance. The movements were every bit as rigorous as the ballet and modern I'd studied as a child and young adult; even the basics required concentration and deep muscle control.

But unlike the conventional Western dance forms, Oriental dance lavished in womanly curves; it embraced the body, rather than attempting to transcend it.

Slowly, my image of myself changed.

Realizing that my capacious hips and rear did not need to be trimmed to be beautiful, I tossed out my tight-fitting gymwear and searched Capezio and Danskin for attire that would accentuate and flatter -- rather than squeeze and flatten.

I did not have much luck. Even their flowy modernwear was tight-hipped and high-waisted, pressing my beloved belly into an unhappy muffin-top.

And then I went to my first Rakassah -- the big bi-coastal bellydance festival -- filled with hip- and belly-loving apparel for onstage and off.

My favorite vendor was Sharifwear.

Their "skirt-pants" caught my eye -- with beautifully flaring bell bottoms, often slit to reveal the lower leg -- and an extra layer of fabric attached at the hip creating a built in hip-scarf (very handy for me, as I often left my tie-on hipscarves at home!).

Many of the half-tops were tied in the front or wrapped around, gently hugging the lower chest, while the arms flared out in gypsy or flamenco style, matching the shape of the pants.

I tried on an outfit and bought as many as I could carry home!

With this new wardrobe, I could not help but love my body, how it looked and felt in the soft, swaying fabric, and realized:  I never needed to hide my belly -- I only needed to frame it!

As my dance progressed, and I attended more advanced classes and workshops, I saw more and more of Ms. Sharif's styles on so many different dancers -- of all shapes and sizes, each as beautiful as the next -- and realized that she was the very same Nourhan Sharif of New York's legendary Egyptian Academy, where many of my teachers, and teachers' teachers had studied their craft.

Nourhan, I learned, was a second-generation bellydancer and master teacher who had created this remarkable line of clothing to fill the very gap that I had found when searching for dancewear that looked and felt beautiful on a curvy female body.

And not only were the quality of design and material important to her; the integrity of production was as well. As her site declares: "Sharifwear presents the highest quality belly dance costumes, coin belts, belly dancing skirts, hip scarves,belly dance tops, veils and belly dance accessories that are authentic and proudly made in the U.S.A."

So, after years of wearing her clothes and pretty much being intimidated by the high reputation of the Egyptian Academy, I finally darkened her doorway in 2009 and found her to be kind, welcoming, innovative, and butt-kicking in the best way possible. And I have studied with her ever since!

Today, I am proud to call her a friend, teacher, and mentor -- and proud beyond words that she will dance the Master Teacher set of Blood on the Veil this Sunday, November 24th, in the finale of the 2013 NYC run.

Love to you Nourhan, and so many thanks for all you do!

Purity and Maturity -- Coming of Age on Our Own Terms and in Our Own Time

This past Saturday, I went to the adult Bat Mitzvah of a dear friend, Liz Free, who had struggled in her youth with faith, community, identity, and belonging, and therefore had foregone the traditional Jewish rite of passage at the time her body first was changing.

A few years ago, as her body once again began to transform, and feeling a wholeness of experience that might better guide her choices, she looked once again to the religion of her birth. But this time, it was through a lens informed by a fuller understanding of her sexuality and the divine feminine -- and in the company of a group that could see through to the more essential levels of her being, which was vital as she does not conform to many of the traditional values held by those who practice her faith.

At the service, she gave a moving presentation, which referenced the "purification" procedures in Leviticus 13, meant to exclude and (hopefully) reintegrate those whom society has seen fit to cast out. Here is the full text of her speech:

What is this Parsha talking about? 

As most of what Leviticus talks about, it describes the Priest’s responsibility to discern pure from impure for the health and safety of the community, and of the sacred places and of the sacred rituals associated with them.   Cleanliness was very important back then considering the climate of that region and how it dictated how to live in a self-contained community that did not have air conditioning. It was the Priest’s responsibility along with the “afflicted person” to discern if they were healthy enough to remain in the community or if the “afflicted person” needed to be quarantined for an amount of time in order for the “affliction” to heal. 

How was this determined? Who gave the Priests this kind of authority and where and how did they obtain the knowledge to judge this? Right back to Leviticus we go, and what do we find? A whole slew of do’s and don’ts--mostly don’ts. For what purpose? As it is stated in the essay by Jay Michaelson, “It’s the Purity Stupid”: Back in the Biblical times it seems there was lengthy "team" meeting that took place between Moses, Aaron and Aaron’s remaining sons, in which rules were set forth for regulating priestly behavior in order to maintain the purity of the Israelite nation, and to guard against assimilation to the "pagan" influence.

Leviticus 13 verse six states: “He shall be impure as long as the disease is on him. Being impure, he shall dwell apart; his dwelling shall be outside the camp.” In the commentary, from Etz Haym, Torah and Commentary, it states, from verse 45: He shall call out “Impure” --"Impure” according to the Talmud. One does this not only to warn others of the contagion but also to elicit compassion and prayers on one’s behalf. It is the responsibility of an afflicted person to recognize the illness and ask for help; and it is the responsibility of the community to offer support and prayer rather than shun or ignore the afflicted.

So how long does this self-appointed quarantined last? According to Leviticus 14, about 7 to 14 days give or take, then the priest travels outside the camp and examines the afflicted person. If the afflicted person is found to be healed then a ritual of purification takes place before the person can rejoin the community. These rituals included animal sacrifice along with a mikvah bath.

I can’t help but compare this to what took place in the 80's when Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome made its dent in the community. How devastating was that, the way society at large shunned those “afflicted”, the isolation that took place for the “good of the society at large” -- and not just AIDS, but cancer, mental illness, addictions. Society at large shuns those who are deemed to be “impure” either physically or mentally. It seems that anybody that is labeled “different than the standard set” is then set apart.

I have felt apart and isolated at times. Not due to any physical affliction but just because there was something different. When I attended Jewish summer camp it was the first time I experienced Shabbos services, but not being able to read or comprehend Hebrew while all the other campers did, made me feel left out and alienated. I recall one of my fellow campers asking me if I was really Jewish because I didn’t know how to read Hebrew.

Identifying as Bisexual has at times been a challenge, as people question my identity, asking me to choose, or they make assumptions because I wear nail polish, or berate me for my choices.

So, how then can those persons who have been labeled as “outcast” rejoin society? How do we welcome back in a person who has gone through chemo or radiation, or a twelve-step program?

With today’s modern medications and treatments available, the first step is to acknowledge something is wrong and then, because we don’t have the “priestly caste” anymore the next step is to go to what would substitute as that priest -- a doctor, therapist, Rabbi -- and obtain treatment for the “affliction”. OK fine, but that is only a part of the healing. What about society’s role in the healing? Where are the compassion and the support? Where is the ritual that helps make the impure pure again? Since we no longer have a high priest to assure us that this shall pass with sacrifices and prayer, we have our so called experts who ease our troubled minds and assure us that you can’t get “that” from a toilet seat or by shaking hands. Do we have a ritual of purification? Since we don’t practice animal sacrifice anymore what do we “do”? Is mikvah immersion enough? Ok that’s a start, but what else?

Trying to find a warm and welcoming environment with no judgment where we can be ourselves -- all of ourselves -- with no fear of recrimination, only unconditional support. Is it that hard? Look around you -- here we are, as if we didn’t know; open door policy is a fine sentiment, what happens when we step out the door? Is it still there, in our hearts and in our minds? What is the text of Leviticus telling us? That the priestly role which is now taken over by seeking out “professional” assistance is good but just a part of the process; the community has a role as well, to reach out and support each other, and if not here then where? If not now then when? If not us then who?

Dance-Improv, Going to Tokyo and Other PUREly Fabulous Septemberish Things

Is the month nearly over already?

When you're crazy-busy doing things, it's not so easy to find time to write about them.

So, in a nutshell....

This month began on the heels of an intense dumbek teacher's training Retreat -- the first that Raquy has ever held. I definitely bit off more than I could chew, technique-wise, and was suitably humbled by the end of the weekend. Turkish technique is haaarrrddd!!!

Then I jumped into intense rehearsals for Anasma's amazing event, On Your Marks, Get Set... DANCE! This unique show featured a first half of choreographed theatrical dance on the theme of Warrior, Woman or City (or a combination of these themes).

I chose Warrior and worked assiduously with Elisheva and Kazuma to create a narrative solo exploring the genesis of a Warrior Spirit -- and how it can have unintended consequences. My blurb for the program was this: 

"The Warrior's fighting spirit is often awakened during childhood, when we are confronted with bullying and random playground cruelty. This Warrior spirit inspires us to stand up for ourselves and develop our physical and mental power. But if that initial injury is not addressed and healed, it can become an impetus for revenge, and the warrior can devolve into brutality and mindless power-seeking."

The second part of the show was entirely improvised, melding dance and improvisational theater. Working from audience suggestions (and the mystery music provided by their iPods!) we created dance scenes, machines and an emotional orchestra, to the great delight of all!

And I was privileged to emcee the entire evening, so I got quite a workout!

The following weekend, I presented the Warrior piece again for the PURE weekend of workshops, variety shows, and our Annual Procession which, this year, was on The High Line, with variety shows at Je'Bon and the rescued docked boat, Lightship Frying Pan. (Actually, the good people at Pier 66 asked us to use the gorgeous big space on their main barge, rather than the groovy but small boiler-room space in the Frying Pan itself.)

Fresh on the heels of our fabulous PURE weekend, we finalized plans to bring PURE Reflections to Tokyo, Japan!

Members of our thriving PURE chapter there saw our April performance at Columbia University and, moved to tears, asked us to mount the production there with PURE TK's dancers.

Here is our promo using footage from that performance (if you are viewing this entry on Facebook, please click here):



Kaeshi and I finalized plans to go there in mid-November to prepare for a November 28th Procession and Performance.

So I shelled out $980 for a ticket to Tokyo on Wednesday, so you can imagine, I am thrilled, nervous and deliriously excited about this!!

Not only is it a dream-come-true for me to go to Tokyo, to do so within the context of creating a work of art so near to my heart exceeds my wildest hopes.

This show, both in process and performance, is a life-changing experience.  It is our deepest hope to be able to share it dancers and audience everywhere.

Who would have guessed that our first baby step in this direction would take us clear across the Pacific Ocean!!

Life is strange and wonderful.

More Thoughts About Body Image: Wallace & Gromit-Style

Here's a really cute video I came across recently which animates real-life interviews with Wallace & Gromit-style claymation.



Note, in particular, the difference between how the men view and feel about their bodies and how the women do (especially in interviews where men are not present).

This eyebrow-raising exchange between a mother and daughter starts around 3:20:

Interviewer: What do you think her best feature is?
Mother: Her ... best physical feature?
Interviewer: Yeah.
Daughter: Oh, oh no! I just cringe! I just don't know what she's going to say and it's freaking me out!
Mother: I don't even know what I'm gonna to say...
Daughter: See! Yes, my mother! This is my mother!
Mother: Her best physical feature ... is ...
Daughter: Oh!
Mother: ... the shape of her body. Her long waist...
Daughter: (snorting) That's what you alway--
Mother: ...and her big boobs.
Daughter: Mother!!
Mother: The shape of her body. You know she's ... she has ...
Daughter: Underneath the fat...
Mother: Yeah...
Daughter: Right.....

And then, of course, there is the issue of how the women view the men (as opposed to how the men view themselves), which comes up with the Sean Connery comment at the beginning ... and the "fig leaf" comment at the end ... Ouch ...

Thinking About Body Image, Form and Movement

Halfway through Tuesday, I'm still riding the dizzying high of this past weekend's adventures with PURE, at the gorgeous Dragon's Egg in Connecticut. (I highly recommend this space, by the way, for workshops, performances, and all around meditative-feeling-goodness.)

We remounted PURE Reflections: Beauty Reimagined, and conducted a workshop in Body Love, leading participants through exercises exploring both positive and negative voices that affect body image -- and inspiring laughter, tears and lots of joyful, unselfconscious dancing.

Towards the end of the workshop, one of the New England dancers remarked that it took a few years of bellydancing -- of seeing women in all shapes, ages and sizes moving beautifully and joyfully -- for her to "get it":

Beauty is not about form, it's about feeling. It's the joy we feel as we dance, or as we watch a dancer embodying and expressing music through movement.

Archetypally, the feminine IS movement.

Think of the waxing and waning moon, never the same from day to day, but still recognized as itself in spite of (or perhaps because of) its mutability.

The feminine knows that the truest image never appears discretely in any static moment; rather the unseen whole emerges over time. If we do not have a developed feminine sensibility, we tend to focus on the moment-to-moment expression of ourselves or others, judging it against a static image of "what should be."

During those moments when we seem to match our ideal image, we may inflate with rapture; but during those moments when we fail, we can just as easily collapse in despair.

If, on the other hand, we can perceive the varying and often contradictory expressions of ourselves and others as parts of a larger whole which we have gleaned over time, then we are less likely to condemn or inflate severely, allowing us to feel whole, healthy and stable as varying images of ourselves are reflected back to us.

But true to its nature, this elusive sensibility can't be taught directly. Words can point the way, and dance classes workshops can provide the forum, but it can only be experienced and developed over days, months and years.

Pondering "Authentic Feminine Values"...

Recently, I've been doing some writing for the program to PURE Reflections: Beauty Reimagined.

As many of you know, this project is very important to me and explores important psychological and cultural issues relating to body image/beauty, the value we place on image, and the harm we do to ourselves in attempting to embody -- or reject -- an image-based value system.

In a typically "feminine" fashion, I like to cast a net and get a sense of what others are saying.

There seems to be no shortage "love your body" campaigns in the media...

• Dove, of course, has its well known Campaign for Real Beauty.
  
• NOW's new message to women is "Love Your Body".
  
• And even Victoria's Secret is giving lip(stick)-service to the cause with their abhorrent Body by Victoria: A Body for Every Body campaign -- complete with self-serving model interviews about why they love their professionally sculpted bodies. (It is worth noting that Victoria's Secret does not even carry my bra size: 38A. Apparently not everybody's body is a body to Body by Victoria.)

These campaigns, with varying degrees of sincerity, encourage women to love our bodies as they are.

Dove amusingly refers to "widening stereotypical views of beauty" ... So we won't get rid of the stereotype, but we will pry it open a tad? Well, OK. I'm down with that: Baby steps are better than no steps.

But more important than cosmetically tweaking the visuals presented to us (which I give Dove credit for doing in their own limited way), is taking a closer look at the system of values that has driven this obsession with physical perfection.

This is where I get into the whole masculine/feminine thing.

Above, I refer to an "image-based" value system, which is predominant in our culture, implying that this is associated with the masculine (feminine would be feeling-based).

Other characteristics commonly associated with the masculine/yang are: rationalism/intellectualism, physical strength, heat, hardness (yeah you heard me), aggressiveness, visibility.

Seen as the opposite of masculine/yang, the feminine/yin is often characterized as: irrationality, weakness/vulnerability, coolness, softness, passivitiy, mystery.

But the more I learn of what I am coming to know as an authentic feminine, the more convinced I am that the very definition of feminine as the opposite of masculine, is itself a masculine mode of perception.

So I started searching for the term "feminine values" and came up with more of the same -- feminine defined as the opposite of masculine.

And then I came to a blog called the battlefield of love, the mercenary romantic, by a British Muslim political commentator (or so she says), who appropriately goes by the name Andromeda ("andro" = man, "meda" = think on, i.e. "she who thinks of or upon men").

Clearly an intelligent woman, she seemed to think only of men, and indeed appears to believe she thinks as a man, or rather her idea of a man.

And herein lies part of the violence women do to ourselves as we function in a system of values that is -- whether by nature or nurture -- somewhat alien: We embrace ideas and ideals far more vigorously than men do, and with no compassion for ourselves and others.

Men embrace these ideas too, of course, but somehow they seem to be less literal about it... or perhaps they, unlike many women, are able pad their egos with a healthy dose of delusion...:->

But women end up starving ourselves into a "perfect" body form, or mentally eviscerate ourselves ... in the end, making ourselves and everyone around us miserable.

Anyway.... obviously these are difficult and nuanced topics, which I will explore further.

In the meantime, for what it's worth, after reading some of Andromeda's nauseatingly sad entries, I finally commented on her blog.

She has not yet approved the comment (and maybe never will), but it gave me an opportunity to think and write about the concept of "authentic feminine values" that has become so important to me.

The comment is as follows:

This comment is not about your post, but your blog in general.

I came across one of your entries on a google search for "feminine values."

You refer to this term repeatedly, and often note that feminism will destroy society, etc. but in reference to the values themselves, you say only things like: "social cowardice, excessive emotionalism, an inability to reason and worst of all, masochism and victimhood."

But those are not feminine values; they are merely unfortunate behaviors to which many women resort precisely because they have lost touch with authentic feminine values.

Indeed, lost in a culture that infantilizes women as (to use your words) the "weaker and more unreasonable sex," women either believe this about themselves and enact the atrocious scenarios you gleefully report in your blog; or they muster their genuine power of analytic thought and reason -- as you appear to be doing -- and proceed to skewer their, perhaps, less intellectually adept sisters (as the quintessential father's daughter, Athena, did to Medusa).

So what, then, are authentic feminine values?

Unfortunately, our culture is so steeped in masculine values, that it is only able to envision the feminine as the opposite of the masculine which it prizes so much:
A la Bill Mahr in this segment http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oop5fY755Jo it might be:

- sensitivity vs. truth
- feelings vs. facts
- commitment vs. individuality
- safety vs. fun

How typical of masculine values, and our cultural blindness to them, to necessarily see the above as opposing pairs?

To my understanding, the strongest feminine values are inclusion and relatedness:

- The feminine can see how the "cold, hard truth" might be known and comprehended with sensitivity -- and sensibility.

- It can grasp that a discerning awareness of feeling can lead to a more accurate perception of fact.

- It knows that a true relationship can only occur between individuals.

- It can enjoy danger while taking responsibility for the consequences of risk.

In its mature, differentiated form, the feminine does not need to define itself through competition with others.

It does not need to parasitically attach to men, because it regards the masculine as equal and values its different (note I do not say "opposing") perspective.

In the end, I daresay cultivating feminine values may save our culture.