Post-Christmas Thoughts

A numbly sweet end to a challenging and transformative year.

I met up with my parents and other family at a Chinese restaurant in Flushing for dinner ... very different from the all-day home-hosted affairs of the past, but it felt right. We chatted comfortably while swinging the lazy Susan around, chowing down on vibrant, chewy meats, rice and veggies.

We were the only non-Chinese in the place and I had to wonder if anyone in the restaurant thought we were Jewish.

Afterwards, my cousin and his wife went for drinks with me and my parents at a little Irish bar a few blocks south of Roosevelt and caught up on family stuff.

I was tired and too mellow for any socializing beyond this, so it was good for me in many ways.

A nice way to end the year.

Thank you, 2011 ... You beat me up, burned me out and changed my life ... all to the good, I think. :-)

Catching Up... Footage of the Halloween Parade!!

I just got an email from Mama Donna with the below video!

For the past four years, Mama Donna, an internationally acclaimed spiritual teacher and "Urban Shaman," has been specially requested to lead the Halloween Parade, blessing the Parade, spectators, the route itself, and the grand and beautiful city it calls home.

I have joined her as both a member of her Blessing Band and as a member of PURE, who for three years has livened the celebration with dance and music.

So, here is a camera copy (apologies for the background noise) of the start of the parade, where you can see Mama Donna and her Band, along with PURE following. There is some nice footage of Kaeshi and me at 1:47, and me doing a bunch of hip drops and a zaghareet at 1:50.



Funny thing -- I had to go to work later that evening, and went to my building in costume.

As I was signing in, the guard said, "Did you just come from the Parade? I think I saw you on TV!"

But I had to give him ID anyway.... :-D

Time Flies: Be Here Now! (HuffPo Comment)

"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so." -- Douglas Adams

Even as a 9-year-old kid, I felt time was subjective­, and would often think, "What I'm experienci­ng now will be the distant past in what will feel like the blink of an eye" (gives you an idea of what kind of kid I was... :-P ).

Yet, waiting for a delayed train is a nearly unbearable agony to me; I'm drawn up from my book and need to stare down the dark tunnel until the moment a hint of light hits the track. (Then, of course, I can relax and enjoy the book.)

Last year, I read an NPR article called "How to Live Forever" which made a facetious case for trying new things to make time "last longer": Once you are expert at a thing, you can do it automatica­lly, which makes time pass more quickly. The discomfort of trying new things slows you down and makes time drag.

I addressed this in my own blog http://t.c­o/SATuByOt finding that depth and richness of each moment, when one is passionate about one's activity, can create the best of both worlds -- time seems to evaporate in the endeavor, and yet it feels like one has lived through a transforma­tive age in its accomplish­ment.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Sleepless -- But Not Dreamless -- in Glasco

This weekend I went upstate to a convent in a tiny town called Glasco, about two hours north of NYC, to do some dream work.

I've been going up here for over ten years, about once or twice a year, on Dream Analysis Retreats. We -- usually a group of four to seven women of a wide range of ages and life experience -- relate and discuss our dreams in Jungian terms.

Dream work is an extremely important part of Jungian analysis, and is one of the surest indicators of healing and growth. After all, your dreams don't lie, so if you believe you have processed some recurring problem or complex, yet the dream symbolizing it continues, then you know pretty well that your psyche is screaming at you that you are not as far along as you'd like to believe.

Likewise, you know you are healing if the dream transforms....

For example, for many years I had a recurring dream about being chased by the Evil Man. I'd lock myself in a room, yet the door wouldn't close, or the lock would be broken, or the door would mysteriously shrink and he would burst right through to attack me.

So what does this symbolize?

For much of my life my thinking (masculine) and feeling (feminine) selves have been at war, and usually the masculine has won out -- as I have talked and rationalized myself into allowing far too many situations that have ultimately harmed me.

Strange as it may sound, it is the strength of the feminine that is required in such situations -- the wisdom that just knows when a thing is wrong, and that knows and cherishes our value just for being ourselves. It is not rational and requires no justification; it simply loves and nourishes. One need never be good enough for it.

Now, as warm and fuzzy as this sounds, if we live only in this feminine womb-scape we would never grow, develop autonomy, or strive towards our dearest dreams and powerful fulfillment. We would never know what we are. So separation, judgment, criticism is necessary -- but without the feminine to softly protect and care for us, the masculine just runs roughshod over us.

Which is how things have been through much of my achingly self-critical life.

As this dream persisted, my therapist would encourage me to talk to the attacker. A crazy idea I thought, and yet in a dream around 2004 (coincidentally, when I started bellydancing) I successfully locked the door against this animus figure, only to decide to open it and talk to him. Far from the insane marauder I expected, he shriveled into a lanky milquetoast who could barely get a word out.

One of the dreams I related this past weekend involved this figure -- but this time, he was a serial killer locked in the bathroom of my childhood home. In the dream, we call the police (psychical reinforcements) to bring him out, but he won't come out. The cops tell me to call his name -- but I can't remember it, which surprises my mother because "he has been living with us for so long."

So, clearly this problem persists in me -- but it has changed. He is no longer attacking; he has now reverted to pure vulnerable boyish silence. Seems he is more scared of me than I am of him. And perhaps he is not so happy with me for forgetting his name...

So that was the realization I had during the first evening of the Dream Retreat, and went to bed pondering it -- unable to think of anything else, actually.

I started to drift off around midnight, hoping to get up around 7:30 and go running along the beautiful trail up there.

But barely an hour later, a frenzied thumping, knocking, banging slammed me awake. And I had forgotten my earplugs!

And this continued through the night: I'd start to sleep for maybe a half-hour, and then -- WHAM, SLAM, BOOM!!

Around 4am I crawled out to the fire escape to see if I could figure out what was causing this...  I knew the nuns had been having some work done. Was there a tarp on the roof? Some loose cord, cable, rope? (Something I could use to hang myself maybe?!?!)

As the sleepless, dreamless Night of Misery continued, I bargained:  I'd turn off my alarm. If I missed the morning session, then so be it. But if I was still awake when the sky got light, then I'd go out running, no matter how miserable I felt.

The latter won out.

As the sun bleached its way through the venetian blinds, I was a knot of restless anguish -- all the more miserable because I did not have a dream to share. But I dragged myself up anyway and got dressed around 7am.

I'd be OK, I told myself (but I brought my mobile just in case...)

The day was absolutely stunning. A bit frosty, but no longer windy. On auto-pilot, I chugged up the gravel road towards the labyrinth about a mile away. I made a left onto a paved road and hoofed down to the town's main drag, Route 32.

Starting to feel a bit better, I finally came to my second-favorite part of the run: A tight little enclave of McMansions along Joseph's Drive with streets named Canterbury Drive, Lancelot Drive and Camelot Court.

Usually I go straight through on Joseph's, which takes me right back to the convent. But suddenly I was feeling better -- much better -- better than I had in weeks, actually. And those street names were just so darned charming!

So I took a left on Canterbury, figuring it would loop me straight back to Joseph's, but instead I ended up on Lancelot which twisted around, leaving me completely disoriented.

I pulled out my Android, figuring Google Maps would get me out of this. No such luck.

I ran back a few houses, then returned to where Lancelot had left me. I saw a single green street sign to my right. I ran up to it.

And this is what I saw.



"You do realize, don't you, that this sounds like a very interesting dream?" a good friend observed as I related the story some time later.

Yes, indeed it was....

It had all the elements:  Misery, anguish, running, joy, bliss, being lost (and lost among such mythically resplendent names!) -- and finding my way -- yes MY way, at a time -- and in a "way" -- that I had least expected.

Take a Stand! (HuffPo Comment)

Beautiful post, Mama Donna.

I was moved to hear Naomi Klein on Brian Lehrer this morning. http://www­.wnyc.org/­articles/i­ts-free-co­untry/2011­/oct/06/na­omi-klein-­occupy-wal­l-street/

She said that the image that moved her to leave her home in Canada and hurry to Wall Street was that of a young woman holding a sign that read, simply, "I care about you."

The most important truth of this moment is that we're in this together: Greed got us into this mess; only compassion can get us out.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Dreaming of 9-11 -- BEFORE the Event

Ten years ago I had the following dream:  Terrorists have blown a huge hole in my office/apartment building; an apocalypse has hit Manhattan, which is covered in a layer of dust. Power is down and I must confront the terrorists alone. 

What is weird about this is that I had the dream on September 6, 2001. What is stranger still is that I wrote the dream down on a scrap of paper which I had misplaced until September 10th. And so, that Monday night, I stayed late in my office typing it up.

In his Sense of Being Stared At, Rupert Sheldrake relates several similar experiences -- during the five days before the attacks, Manhattanites had prescient dreams or other premonitions, most involving planes, buildings  and/or terrorists. And in most cases these dreams were not typical of the dreamer.

"Oh, I bet New Yorkers have nightmares about dust and skyscrapers all the time!" scoffed my hyper-rational cousin. And they may -- but I don't. And I know this because I have been writing down my dreams since 1996. 

A quick word search reveals that this was the only dream of its kind that I have had in the past 15 years, which puts it out of the realm of statistical coincidence and squarely into The Twilight Zone.

In his book, Sheldrake describes "a kind of collective unconscious that allows members of a species to draw from, and contribute to, the collective memory of the species." 

But does how could this apply to future events? 

Well... I haven't the foggiest, other than to consider more strongly that there are, indeed, more things in heaven and earth -- and perhaps those things like to reach us through our dreams.

But you tell me... Submitted for your approval is my 9/6/01 dream, complete with action movie heroics at the end. 

Oh, I am such a product of my culture....

I’m in a post-apocalyptic Manhattan – the Earth’s atmosphere is completely covered in choking dust. (There is also something about a probe that was sent into the deeper reaches of the Milky Way which will soon return bringing either information or more destruction.)  

I go into a one-room apartment in a high-rise (possibly mine), though it seems more like an office building. Scott  is sleeping on the bed. He is remarkably blasé about the state of the world. There is a lot of dust in the room as well, so he suggests that I turn on the air conditioner to clear it out. I am dubious at first, thinking that the air conditioner couldn’t possibly work because teh power is down, but it does.  

As the dust clears, I look out the window and see many office buildings with quite a few lights on. How can there be electricity? I thought there was practically no one left… Are the generators still running? I figure that I should just stop questioning and use the electricity while we still have it. 

A very attractive young man enters the apartment.. The three of us go to the lobby of the building where many other survivors are gathered. Panamanian terrorists have blasted a giant hole in the lobby and are announcing that in this “new world” they are claiming America (and hence New York and all the buildings in it) as a territory of Panama. They have not yet seen me, so I slink up a staircase to an inner balcony overlooking the atrium.  

A little ways in I find an unmade bed and a female friend crouched beside it. The terrorists announce that they are going to tear-gas us out. I realize that even though gas is everywhere it’s not affecting me. Puffed up with my apparent superhuman abilities, I go down to the lobby and tell the terrorists to get lost. They turn their weapons on us and, in true superhuman form, I telekinetically rip their weapons away from them, condense them in a ball above their heads, and then smash the ball into the left wall of the room. Then I blow the terrorists backwards, which sends them out of the building screaming.

Gathering Storms and Other Stuff I've Been Up to This Crazy Summer

Last blog entry June 2nd.

If I were a starship captain, I'd be fired for dereliction of duty.

How do frequent bloggers do it? I find it so difficult just to get done what I need to get done... and then to find time to write about it when what I crave is a brain-break of Big Bang Theory and a bottle of beer. Usually I opt for the brain-break.

But, in a nutshell, here is what I've been up to these past 12-or-so weeks:

JUNE:

The first weekend of June, I took Tamalyn Dallal's teacher's training workshop and emcee'd the showcase for it (indeed, the last event I listed on my calendar).

Then, having graduated from the PIT's fifth and final improv level, I signed up for two new PIT electives:  Jen Nails' "Do-It-Yourself" Solo Show Workshop, and Alex Zalben's Level 1 Intro to Sketch Writing. Both of these had very nice showcases in early August which I completely failed to mention on my calendar here, but to which people showed up anyway.

But that is August, and I am still in June.

As it happened, I missed the second of both of these courses because I spent a glorious week in Santa Fe at Dunya's Dancemeditation (aka Summer Movement Monastery) retreat at the blissfully restful Synergia Ranch.

And I saw a couple of awesome snakes:



I took a bunch of pictures with my Android which should be visible to the public here through my Facebook photo album.

I actually started a blog entry when I was there, describing the place, the people, blah blah blah, but I never finished it and it is still sitting unpublished in Draft mode along with a half-dozen pieces I did about the production of PURE Reflections in Japan last year.
 
And I took an awesome six-week Shakespeare Intensive with the Royal Shakespeare Company's indomitable Lisa Harrow.  (That's her standing in front of me ... regal and beautiful as ever.)



We did sonnets, soliloquies and scenes. A triple-S threat.

I returned to NYC in late June to learn we had lost a warm friend and dear human being, Adam Hocherman:



JULY:

I danced at Kamasutra Lounge with the Rising Sirens, and took and passed the SharQui instructor training workshop.

I joined Altagracia's Caribbean Roses for a gorgeous Flamenco-bellydance number at Lafayette Grill, and debuted two stunning feather boa fans that I inherited from the ravishing Hannah Nour.

Now all I need is to get my group fitness certification... Not so easy! I shelled out nearly $600 for the materials, but have I had time to study... nooooo!! And why? 

Two little words:  PURE Reflections.



(This incidentally, is the excellent promo video Lale's husband Kenji put together from his footage from the Japan show. It was created to compete for a $25,000 in the Pepsi Refresh Everything contest, but there were just not enough bottle caps for us... Maybe next month... but I digress...)

We had been asked to mount a production in Taiwan in September -- but we had not worked on the show at all since the Japan production in late November.

Now, bear in mind, when we do PURE Reflections, we are not simply bringing a show to a new venue; we are recreating the entire thing with a whole new set of dancers. So I was absolutely not going to let us present material to a group of women who had sacrificed a week of their time for this project without having it fresh in our bodies and minds.

Also, when we normally produce the show, it is with a cast of 25 or more, to give as many dancers as possible the opportunity to be a part of the production, as well as the soul-searching workshops and rehearsal process. But this time we decided to scale it down to only seven people, to see if the show even could accommodate a smaller space and tighter budget

But even with the smaller cast, scheduling was a bitch.

Key dancers like Kaeshi, Pacita and B were frequently travelling. We had one rehearsal with the entire cast in mid-July and did not have the full cast again until two days before the show.

But I've directed so many plays in similar circumstances, so I knew it could be done.

Two amazing PURE members, Liz and Catherine, stepped up and understudied for whomever was not at rehearsal.

And that brings us to...

AUGUST:

I taught some dance at Greehouse and finger cymbals for Bellyqueen (interesting that I am the only Bellyqueen teacher who is not and will never be a Bellyqueen member... but I have barely enough time to keep up with the Sirens choreography, so maybe being a professional troupe member is not in the cards for me... Ah well...)

I took an improv intensive with the Groundlings' Gary Austin.

But mostly I focused on PURE Reflections.

And we did it!!

The show came together in so many surprising and beautiful ways. Marius Shanzer took some lovely photographs, an Amy and Kenji took footage -- so you'll see some of that when it's ready.

And then there was the Hurricane. Epic destruction not withstanding, I have to say I was kind of glad to have had the weekend off.

And now...  I need to prepare for September!

Bringing the show to Taiwan is going to be a whole 'nuther ball of crazy wax. And I can't wait!