How do we know we grow?

It was easy when all we had to do was stand with our backs against the kitchen wall where our mother or father would mark our height and date.  But, what happens after you max out?  In my case, at a hearty 5’11”!

Years blend into each other, and we often find ourselves time and time again in what seems like the same place or the same situation over and over again. How can we know we have changed? Grown? Learned?

Each year I attend the National Dance Educators Organization conference.  I have presented each year for the past 6 or so years—or more. I can’t really remember! But, what I do know is that each year I process through the conference ritual and each year I can see how I have changed and if I have changed over the past 12 months. 

The conference becomes a marker for me, an opportunity to notice what is different in me and in my approach to what I do and to those around me.  This year I find myself with a deep centeredness that I don’t recall in past years.  Often the conference is such a whirlwind. The preparation leaves us wind blown like leaves as we are swept into the official fours days of meetings, sessions, classes and panels.  Each day is packed full of events and there are always more people in attendance than one person could ever try to talk to.  This year over 700!

So, with such a large group in attendance and with countless opportunities for learning and conversing, it is tough to stay connected to oneself and avoid the hustle and bustle all around you.  So many wonderful dance education minds come together to share their stories during these grand conferences, yet we must trust that we will get what we need from this massive event. It will come to us just as we need it. In the package we need and at the time and place in which we are ready to receive it. My goal is to let the conference come to me as it may.  I want to soak in the experience without feeling flustered or overwhelmed as I have in the past. Most importantly I want to be fully present in the experiences and in the conversations. 

Personal growth means we get to revisit something familiar and do it “better.”  We get to be more mindful of our words and our actions, more compassionate for others and more patient with ourselves.  As we experience this we can feel ourselves growing, getting a little taller in spirit.

What annual rituals do you practice and how do you approach them each year?  Do you ever feel stuck in a rut or perhaps tired of running after new experiences?  How do you measure your growth? The holidays of course are right around the corner and they are always a chance for practicing balance. What are your plans for growth and change? How tall do you hope to grow this year?

Speaking Your Truth

My Tuesday meditation group has been working on a very tough but important practice of "Speaking Your Truth."  Many of the participants in the group are in what is called Jubilee time, around the age of 50, and having sent their children off to college are rediscovering what they have to offer the world (beyond the courage act of parenting). These women are strong, intelligent, compassionate and kind.  They have so much to offer, but it requires our being able to speak our truths!

The lesson of speaking your truth is one that we can ask at any age. Speaking your truth doesn't mean running around town blabbing about local gossip, or chattering about the latest fashions and who looks good in what, nor is it casually commenting about the weather over a glass of wine.  Speaking your truth is a practice that requires mindfulness, integrity, strength and compassion.

When speaking your truth one must do so with utmost care.  Is it hurtful?  Is it timely? Is it necessary?  Many things are true that don't need to be said, or don't need to be said immediately. On other occasions something will need to be said that may hurt someone, but by speaking our truth to someone we can actually honor them and their integrity.

But, how do we share our truth? Here are a few things I like to remind myself:

1.  Compassion:  Am I coming from a place of compassion? Is my investment in what I have to say for personal benefits or for a greater good?  Is it to help gain clarity or to cause injury? When we speak from a place of compassion, we take care with the words we use. We take care that we are clear while still speaking from the heart.  

2.  Expectations: What do I expect in return?  This is the tricky one for me.  When we speak our truth we give the other person (people) the right to react in whatever way they may.  They might agree, but that is not a given.  That person might lash out in return if they do not have skill or experience in nonviolent communication.  That person has the right to react in anyway, because that is their right as a person with inherent dignity and integrity.  When we remember that, we can detach from the outcome more readily.

We all have the potential to change the world, and speaking our truth is our opportunity to do so with a sense of clarity and purpose that is grounded in loving kindness.  We get to speak our truth to ourselves, to those we love and to those who challenge us. We aren't always perfect in our attempts to speak our truth. It takes practice, and we stumble over our words a lot and get ensnared in our personal misperceptions.  But, if our intention is for good, then we will get better and with time we get clearer for ourselves and others.  We can speak out for justice, for peace, for understanding, for love. 

Are you ready to practice speaking your truth?

How are you?

Today I rolled out my yoga mat.  For the first time in a long time.

Yoga for me has been a wonderful physical and spiritual practice through our the years. But, since my horrendous back injury (over a year ago), it has been near absent in my life.  I have always incorporated yoga into my dance warm ups, but laying out the yoga mat for an explicit practice has not been part of my routine. 

I rolled it out today, because being on vacation I was tired of the bike machine down in the gym and needed a little bit of variety.  Hence, the mat.

I didn't know what my practice would look like.  I didn't know how it would go after so much time.  More specifically I didn't know how I would go (or be). As I lay folded in child's pose, I wondered exactly this.

How am I?  We use the question to mean the state in which we exist. How are you? I'm fine. I'm ok. I'm great! I'm wretched.  But, how is not merely about a state of being. It is also describes the way we exist. The way we do things. The way we navigate the world and our experiences. 

How do I do it?
How would I know?
How should I respond?
How am I standing? How am I lunging, folding, reaching, sitting?  What is the way I do what I do? 

Becoming aware of who we are is really becoming aware of how we are.  And, being aware means asking ourselves this question at every turn.  How do I eat my breakfast? How do I respond to an upset friend, family member, student? 

But, being aware is just the first step.  Being how you are (That's just how I am!) is not an excuse for poor behavior or unskillful practices.  We have the ability to change how we are in the world.  That is the sweetness of being human.  We get to choose whether our behaviors or actions serve us or not.  The new year is a time when many people, who may otherwise not be aware of how they are, look at themselves in the mirror and ask the million dollar question.  How am I? 

The winter solstice is behind us.  The days will now get longer, and we will come closer to the sun with each passing moment.  We have the chance to use this time to examine how we are in this world.  How we are with each other. How we are on the yoga mat or walking down the street. 

This time of quiet, of darkness and reflection is key to really understanding our nature. 

But, the real work comes later.  Discovering how we are is not a one shot deal.  We get to discover how we are every single day we walk this earth.  We get to discover how we are in all that we do.

So the next time you are asked How are you? Take a moment and ask yourself the deeper question of awareness so that you can continue the practice of self discovery with each step, with each moment. 

May you have a Happy New Year!
Beth

Last Birthday in my Year to Live

Yes! I am 33!

And, I am still working through my Year to Live reflective practice loosely based on Stephen Levine's book.  

I am roughly on day 186.  Officially at the half way point week. And, it just so happens it is also my birthday.  Yikes.  That is a lot to take in.  

So, I asked myself what I want to do for my "last" birthday, and I decided I want to make a dance for myself.  A solo made for me right here and now, reflective of this time and place in my life. And, this time and place is not perfect as far as a dancer is concerned.

I have been working with a back injury for that past year.  I have had a history of back issues as I have blogged about in the past (see About the Back and How to Heal), but this one has been the same injury (on and off again-- but mostly on) for the past year.  Only recently, when I began a new mind body practice called CFR, have I started addressing the nature of my injury and the consequences of my habitual patterns.  It has been an eye opening journey.  

The cyclical history of my injury is such that I haven't created a dance for myself in a long time.  I create pieces for others, and I have created dances in which I also perform as part of the ensemble (often in a limited way), but I haven't created something just for myself in over a year.  And, primarily because of my back injury.  Every time I made an effort to create something or to "get back into shape," I would reinjure myself. This was the cycle.  So, I basically stopped making dances for me.  

This year to live has reminded me that I should not wait for "complete healing" or "getting back into fighting shape"  or "until I am able to recapture my lost technique."  I can't wait.  

The challenge is accepting the fact that this solo won't look like my former solos. It can't because my former solos in fact what lead me to injury (not them exactly but the former choices surrounding their creation).  Also, I won't look like I did in my former solos.  I have a different shape than I did before this sequence of injuries.  Those are the facts.  

The movement can't be the same. I am not the same.  Whatever ever types of movement and choreographic sequences I made before are basically out of the question now.  I can't wow people with my extension or leaps. I won't be able to roll and get up with speed or force.  I have to make different choices. I have to make the effort to break the injurious habits and form new patterns in my way of moving, in my way of working and most importantly in my way of thinking. 

I need to make a dance that will serve me now.  One I can perform now.  And, I have to trust that I can enjoy a dance created under these circumstances.  And, it can be worthy of being performed for an audience.  It is strangely scary. Like I am choreographing for the first time.  

But, this needs to be my birthday gift to myself.  Because in my Year to Live this is my last birthday, and it can't wait.  

Dancing on,
Beth

Recipe for a New Semester

Yes. The days are counting down and the start of the new semester lies just around the corner for many of us.

As a student it was always my favorite time.  I was excited to learn to new things. I had the books ready and had already glanced through them cover to cover to see what is in store for me.  I purchased new spiral bound notebooks and organized my classes according to color coded three ring binders with matching tabs.  I selected my favorite pens and then bought brand new ones just in case.   I prepped my backpack with back ups for all the important items (just in case):  Pencils, pencil sharpener, highlighters/ colored pencils, erasers, permanent markers, baby wipes, socks, extra tights or dance pants, underwear, bobby pins, 5 or 6 hair ties, lipgloss and mascara.  Then of course my entire dance bag full of shoes and more dance paraphernalia than you can imagine. 

Yes, the beginning of the semester was pure excitement for me.  Even better than Christmas in some ways, because the gift of the semester was going to last my entire lifetime. 

But, now as a professor. I find the start of semester a little less sparkly than before.  Now, I am faced with looming and overwhelming questions:  How can I make it better?  How can I clean up my grading system? How can I be better organized?  How can I keep better attendance?  How can I get through with the fewest headaches possible? 

Yes, starting the semester as an instructor takes on a different flavor, and it wasn't until tonight (while lying in my savasana in yoga class) that I realized I need to change my perspective and think more like I did as student. I need to get excited and recharged. 

So I have developed this Recipe for a New Semester:

1.  Get a New Purse:  nothing is more refreshing than organizing a new purse.  Clean out the old receipts lingering in the corners of forgotten pockets, manage the number of pens that have either accumulated or disappeared over the last year, and throw away the smashed lozenges and Hershey's kisses that have ground themselves into unrecognizable state. 

2.  Get your Syllabi Done: at least 3 days before the start of classes.  Write them, and send them off to be printed. If you are like I am, then they will never be perfect so don't sweat it.

3.  Buy a new iPad (or other gadget): Ok. So this is a luxury, but still, having a a new "toy" to play with makes it more fun to input your attendance rosters or configure your email groups.  Plus, it can make you look and feel hip. That's what I'm talking about! I plan on trying an attendance app for my rosters, and I plan to try garageband for some of my dance class accompaniment.  It is something for me to learn and play with.  PS If you hate gadgets or technology in general, ignore this ingredient for the recipe.

4.  Input your Calendar: for the semester and block out times for things you want to do.  I really wanted to find time to go to the gym, yoga and my meditation center each 2x/week.  I have input it into my calendar and blocked it off.  I am making myself unavailable so when I get asked to do something additional I can more easily say "no" if needed. 

5.  Test your pens: Satisfaction by definition. Throw away the ones you hate and keep the ones you love. 

6.  Plan two of your favorite classes:  create the lesson plan you want to have, not the one you feel you should have, but the one you wish you had gotten as a student or perhaps could really use for yourself now.  Let them be unencumbered and passionate. 

7.  Steel Yourself:  if you are like me, perhaps you are too compassionate?  Or perhaps you are too rigid?  too monotonous? too spontaneous?  too frustrated? too frustrating?  Yes, we are teachers, but we are still human beings.  I have to remember to set the tone for the semester in the first few weeks.  For me, I need to draw the line and stick to it.  Being too accommodating just makes the students more lax (and makes me crazy as a result).

8a.  Option 1:  Take a long bath with aromatherapy and a good short story (preferably from The Sun Magazine). 

8b. Option 2:  Make yourself a stiff drink.  Hot Toddy's are especially effective in cold weather.

9.  Be Hopeful: it can only help make it easier.



Have a great semester everyone!

Twitter for Mindfulness

Perhaps you have read or heard about Mindfulness. If you have read any of the more popular Buddhists texts by Thich Naht Hanh or Pema Chodren, then you have certainly encountered the idea even if it was called something else.  Likewise, if you practice yoga and have ever performed pranayama (breath control/meditation) or seated meditation then you have practiced being mindful. 

But, the practice of mindfulness in daily life amidst work drama, family crisis, personal health issues and the rest of life's curves balls takes practice and discipline.  I would like to present an unexpected mindfulness tool I recently discovered: Twitter.

Yes, I was one of those people who "didn't get Twitter" and scoffed at the ridiculousness of "saying something in 140 characters or less."  I only got my Twitter account (@BethMegill) a couple months ago because I was feeling desperate with my dance company, and knew I needed to try something new to broaden Megill & Company's (MeCo) exposure.  So, I created a Twitter account in my name.  No hiding behind anything, no ulterior motives. Everyone would know who I was, and I had to be ok with that. 

I didn't really post anything until about two months ago. I didn't know about RT (retweets) or hashtags (which I always knew as a pound sign). The, I drew the line and made a decision: I will tweet despite all my concerns and misgivings about it. I have to at least TRY it.  At first, it felt weird to post what I was thinking, what I was doing, and what I saw at any given moment, but it gradually became part of my day, and I found that you can say a lot in 140 characters. And, sometimes it is just a pointer to more info which is often very useful/entertaining/interesting. 

But, the best and most unexpected benefit of Twitter has nothing to do with my initial motives at all. I discovered that in making Twitter a part of my day, I was making reflection part of my day.  Twitter was helping me become more mindful! 

I find that Twitter helps me to put things into perspective as I find myself in sticky situations or frustrating states of mind.  In deciding what to post, I have to make a decision about what I want to say. And, in deciding what I want to say, I have to make a decision about what is important to say.  And, in order to decide what is important to say I have to decide what is import (period!).

This has become an excellent practice of mindfulness. I often wonder what I will tweet next.  "Is this important?" "Is this interesting?"  "Is this worth sharing?" I realized that these questions were not for any of my "followers" but for myself. Through this reflection, I am really asking: "What is important to me?" "Is what I am doing interesting and worth doing?"  "Am I making decisions that I am proud of and will feel comfortable sharing with others?"  Twitter makes me accountable to myself.  It helps me lead the life I want to live by reminding me to stay true to my beliefs and values.

I find that I have been more relaxed, more productive, more playful, more joy filled, and more interested in general. I see the world as more real because I have my eyes opened.  Of course I am excited when someone responds to a tweet (just as I am when you respond with a comment to this blog). It is exciting to think that something I have shared has given someone else joy or a moment for pause and reflection, but ultimately I tweet for myself and what the practice gives me on a daily basis. 

We shall see how long this trend lasts, perhaps it is just a phase that will come and go as so many things do.  But for now, I am grateful and appreciative of how this program (that I bad mouthed and snickered at for so long) has actually deepened my practices.  Thank you Twitter. And, special thanks to those who follow and share in my practice. You are my sangha. 

If you have a moment. . . I could use your help

So, as I have previously explained in this blog, I am committed to a poetry group, and we are going to take a show on the road in May.  But, unlike the other more prolific writers, I am the newbie, writing here and there, inconsistent at best (but passionate!).  We have a reading in Dec at the local mall. Oh, yes. It will be epic and you should come.  But, first I need to write, write, write and then I need to pick something to actually read.  The writing part is less intimidating, I mean I can write stuff if i sit down and do it. Whether is is good or bad though needs to be determined. My current challenge is figuring out what poems are worthy of performance.  This is where you come in.

I just wrote these poems this morning.  Let me know if one speaks to you. You don't even have to tell me why.  Just let me know so I can get a sense of what might be good material to further work on. And, if you don't like any of them do not worry. I will try to post more and maybe there will be something you do like down the line. 

Thanks for your help!
Write on!

Midnight Dance
It starts.
slow and fast
hard and soft
all at once
in time
without a moment's hesitation
anew and glorious
silver and gold
Another night of applause
effort expended and sweat perspired
costumes worn thin
showing bare threads
like spindles of muscle fiber
exposed
feet and ankles crack and pop
a chorus of aching joints pushed to their limit
Music plays inside the soul
melodies unravel stories to be danced
I hum and lull myself into the trance
in time
anew and glorious


Three months in
Three months in
I notice
a depression on my finger
a ring of commitment that lies pale underneath
the promise ring
even with the thin band
I notice
its weight on the tissue of my finger
daily impressions
wearing memories of our partnership
And this three months in
just three months
so powerful is love
and the promise of forever


Inside the skin
There is a grumble
something has changed
i notice the body behaving like
and intractable child
yelling at me in response to my abuse
waking me int he middle of the night
to scream and shout and cry
it can't be calmed
Inside the skin
inside the tissues
there is rebellion
I don't know when the demonstrations started
I don't know when the body first began talking back
Was it always shouting and I just never
stopped to listen?
Now like blown out speakers I can't shut out the
Powerful messages inside
the knots of my core
wondering when their cries will finally be heard

Other poems from former posts. Bugs. Another Garden Poem.

Book Review: Women, Food and God

I have recently been sharing with friends the concepts in a book I just finished called, "Women, Food and God" by Geneen Roth.  My mom read the book first and recommended it to me. I then saw the author on Oprah (before the show ended) and put it on my kindle reading list.  I then promptly forgot about it for a good 4 months.  Turns out, it is a great book and gave me a new perspective about compulsive eating and food addiction.

As a tall dancer, I have often been dissatisfied with my body composition.  I have never been seriously overweight, but by dancer standards I carry more general "insulation" than most in my field.   I naturally have a long, muscular build, a proportioned torso and nice legs (so I have been told).  But, my 5'11" frame always skewed my sense of size.  Being taller made me bigger in a world of smaller and thinner.

Im result, I always felt big, being placed in back and selected as the dancer to lift others and rarely the lifted one.  I always got the largest leotard and could never squeeze into the cute, vintage outfits we borrowed from the theater department.   I abandoned ballet because being partnered by a ballet boy of 5'7" was not an option.

So, needless to say, there has always been a shadow of disapproval of my body shape, a nagging feeling that I shouldn't eat that last roll, second helping or second cookie. 

Roth's book was a refreshing take about interacting with food in a way that really made sense to me.  She stresses eating what you really want, eating when you are hungry and quieting the body enough to know when you are full.

Sounds overly simple perhaps, but the magic lies in the fact that following these simple "rules", you take away food's power and the the connotations you have tied to it over the years. 

By constantly depriving yourself of the heavenly piece of chocolate cake or yummy plate of spaghetti, you have developed a system of guilt associated with food. In other words you begin to believe that eating the cake is "bad" and therefore you are "bad."  Likewise, we have learned to reward ourselves with a food "I've been so good. I can't break the rules this ONE time!"  Again, this is giving undeserved power to something that is fuel and might be tasty, but certainly doesn't revolutionize the world.  Finally, we equate eating with self sabotage or loss of control. We numb our mind and hearts by stuffing our stomachs.  But, that just leaves us in no better place.  On the other side of the bag of Kettle chips, we feel just as troubled and now additionally guilt ridden.

No food should have power beyond the enjoyment of its taste and the nutritional value it provides.  By trusting in Roth's system, you can relearn these basic facts.  You step outside of the diet game of chutes and ladders. By taking away the power of the food as a slave to soothe you or a weapon to punish you, food finally loosens its grip on you and (gasp) can even become undesirable when it is not needed. 

This was a hard thing for me to relearn.  I had become so attached to food that leaving anything on the plate seemed crazy.  How could I possibly leave something that tasted soooo good?  It turns out, that I can and should.  Not to deprive myself, but as a practice of being honest with myself. 

I realized that I have been clogging my system with excess and that is part of what has been making me feel bad periodically.  Too much food physicality makes me tired and exacerbates my depression. 

But all of this is just a precursor to the most insightful thing I learned about myself by reading the book.  Roth challenges us to identify when we are physically hungry and when we are hungry for something else (eating for any other reason).  In thinking about my own life I realized that I have been eating for two main reasons other than being hungry:

1. Fatigue
2. Fear of future fatigue

I thought eating would help me stay awake and alert, but what I really need to do is rest (or at least let go of the fear of being tired).  Strange that just the fear of being tired is enough for me to eat.  But all that excess was just dragging me down.

The best part of all of this is that I am getting over the guilt of eating.  Eating is becoming more enjoyable because it is no longer forbidden.  Now the candy bar sits on the table because I am not forbidden to eat it. It holds less sway over me and doesn't taunt me with its presence.  And, when I want to eat it I will and it is no big deal. 

It feels good to let go of all the anxiety surrounding this aspect of my life.  It frees my mind and energy up for more productive endeavors. 

A welcome change and one I thought I should share.

Have you read the book? What did you think?

Learning to Practice

I have been blessed with multiple interests. This makes it so that I am never bored. In fact there are days I feel so overwhelmed I would give anything to bored. But, alas I am not wired that way. I find most things interesting and even in the rarest or most mundane situations I find myself pleasantly satisfied and engaged in ruminating about some aspect of the task at hand so my interest never feels strained or forced.

The downside to this way of being is that I am constantly torn between my many interests and there simply aren't enough hours in the day for me to do everything I want-- and if there are enough hours in the day, I am plagued with a lack of energy. You simply can't do it all. Hrrumph. But I want to!

Part of my thinking on this issue of practice and time on task was prompted by my recent visits to a number of museums and archeological sites here in Mexico where I am visiting. Looking at hand stitched coats from the New Spain era, or the incredible pyramids of the Mayans. These objects of achievement took time and perseverance. Artists and craftsmen dedicated years of their lives to a box made of intricately inlayed pieces of wood, shell, bone or gems. I too want to look back and be able to say "I stuck to it" and made a something great because I persevered. So that is why I have revisited the importance of practice. It teaches us the diligence and focus required to be our best in way that is not just fleeting, but established and durable.

Regular practice is undisputedly a requisite for the arts or any endeavor, really. It takes time, energy and mental focus to complete large projects, a painting, a dance, a certificate, a school program, you get the idea. But, how can I accommodate all of my interests into my daily life so I feel connect to them all and yet feel productive? The fact is I am a notorious jack of all trades. Wonderfully aware and interested in most things while remaining horribly and painfully amateur (or average) at most of them.

Let's look at a couple of my practices to get a better idea of how this works in my real, mundane, 24-hour day, 7 day week and 52 week year:

Yoga: I love to practice yoga, sometimes I desire recuperative restorative poses, other times I want the catharsis, the sweat and the charge of discovering my strengths. But, despite my love of yoga, I do not have a weekly yoga routine. There are not classes I always take every week. I do not practice regularly at home. I am intermittent at best. I incorporate yoga poses into my dance warm up, but it is not a complete spiritual practice in the way I believe yoga is meant to be practiced.

When I do get on the mat on my own, I wonder what took me so long to get there. I most often surprise myself by starting with a recuperative, gentle intention and ending with sequences of dancing warrior, one legged balances or challenging sun salutations, sweat dripping in a glorious and wonderfully unexpected way. Where did this energy come from? But even while I am here in Mexico with little to no real schedule and certainly enough time to throw down my mat in a corner somewhere. I have practiced a total of 2 days in the 8 days I have been here. On the one hand: at least I am practicing, on the other hand: since I took space in my suitcase to bring my mat (although it is a thinner travel mat) why the heck am I not practicing at least 30 min everyday?

Hmmm. Next practice. . .

Writing: In the last year and half I have taken up a more conscious practice of writing. I have always written, mostly journaling, but I found that journal writing often left me feeling worse than when I started, perpetuating any downward spiral I might be in. When I felt good, I didn't really feel like writing at all. So my journals consisted of pages and pages and pages (and I have perhaps 15 journals from the years) of self-deprecating, frustrated, painful entries, often tear marked. Whew.

In the last few years I tried to write only positive things, affirmations and such. But that quickly faded away into not writing at all. About two years ago, I saw a flier for a poetry group where I work and voila! I became a poet. So I have been trying to write and it have been wonderful in many many ways. I have no pressure to be good so I just write whatever poems I want and enjoy the process and being silly. No goal no competition (if only the rest of the world were like this. Haha!) But, the group met on Wednesdays and I had to teach so. . . guess where my writing went? Uh. Nowhere. That's "wright"! (sorry couldn't help myself). It wasn't until I took on the 30 day poetry challenge with the group that I wrote poetry with enough regularity that now if I go too long without it, I can't help but pull out a piece of paper or start up my computer. But it took 30 painstaking days of writing poems, often when I was tired and didn't want to do anything. But, the 30 day practice taught me the rewards of writing with frequency, and it ultimately lead me to writing this blog.

I purposefully took Natalie Goldberg's "Writing Down the Bones" on this Mexico trip and bought a special journal here 4 days ago. As inspired as I am I have just two entries since I bought the book. I had grandiose hopes of writing throughout the days. I imagines and planned for wonderful gems of reflection and observation. But, I wrote two nights ago and I wrote tonight. Not quite the fervor I had intended.

On to. . .

Meditation: I started going to the Zen center two weeks before I left for Mexico. I went a total of 6 or 7 times in two weeks including an all day 8-5 Sesshin. I have meditated for a total of 5 minutes since being here in Mexico. Granted I miss my zafu (the solid pillow for sitting in meditation) but really. Can't I just sit in the chair? Not the best record.

Finally. . .

Dance: Ahhhhh. Dance. My water and my arsenic. How I love thee and how I question thee? Are you good or evil? You bring such joy and such pain in turn. While I have been enjoying the past week of touring and visiting ruins, cathedrals and museums, I am actually here in Mexico to work.

I was brought over by a dear friend Karina to teach and set choreography on her small company. Rehearsals start Monday. So, this past week has been a treat, but I am really here to practice doing my job and in so doing practice my art. A true blessing for an artist to share what they have to offer to the world. In this case internationally. But, how much have a practiced dance since my arrival? Zip. Zero. Zilch. That's right, I have not practiced at all no plié no tendú (just what happens to be coincidentally present in my yoga practice). BUT, the mind is going. Ideas have been surging and there is something to that. For that time in thought is in fact time on task and time well spent when the time comes to actually do what it is you do.

So, I have an idea for myself. I am not sure when I will implement it but I would like to perform my own 30 day challenge. This time for choreography. Get the juices flowing and not letting the pressure of creating inhibit my actual dance making. I plan on making some really bad choreography. Stupid, silly, odd, ugly. But, I hope it will allow me to release the tension and pressure I have come to feel as a dance teacher, who is constantly faced with the task of creating dance on a timeline and to serve the learning process of the student.

30 days. I am not sure when to start. Probably in August. But I promise to post it all, even the crappy ones for your enjoyment. Who knows, perhaps you will get a good laugh out of it at least.

As for practice. Twyla Tharp's book, "The Creative Habit" is all about routine. And, I guess it time for me to figure out mine.