First Ballet Class of 2017

It is very nice and a little strange that such a lovely thing as a ballet class can take place when the country seems on the brink of self-destruction. Then again, there have been worse things. How to find freedom within a rigid structure- is the ultimate quest of this dance.

Laughter

The road to hell is paved with jokes.
Think twice before you laugh.
To laugh is to give your approval.
Laugh sparingly.
Similarly treat language.
Language creeps into layers between layers.
Into thought and belief which every use compounds.

Election Result

My fellow women, as the 2016 election results become basically clear, I have to confess that I feel angry at all men everywhere right now. Not at any individual man who is as good as can be, but at the general maleness that pervades our daily lives and our very existence, and pervades so deeply that it is like original sin. If you are male, you are born guilty. I know this is irrational but this is my confession as the die is cast. 

Falling in Love with Rumba

Following an evening of classes in Afro-Caribbean dance forms, I find myself increasingly intrigued by the forms of movement that emerge from combining the earthly, undulating, percussive nature of African dance with Caribbean joyfulness and pelvis-centric sensuality. The inherent joyfulness of rumba is weighted with sadness because more emphatically than any other dance I have experienced, this one is used as a means of forgetting. On the other hand, its music contains age-old stories, so the dance that expresses it is also a means of remembering. It is a dance that liberates the body in its entirety and puts the mind in a happy trance. The steps are weighted but not harsh or aggressive; rather the foot plays with the ground, massaging it and making it pliable, the rigid earth. The earth receives and sends back this plied energy which ripples through the torso and out the arms- suave, always suave.

Reclaiming the Day

This evening around 5:30pm, I was deep in the trenches at work, with a million tasks to follow up on for multiple cafe openings. And then I got a call from my aunt in Korea. By the time I got off the phone, I realized I really only had one task to complete, and that was to leave work and enjoy the rest of the day. So I did. After completing a couple extra tasks. How we leave this life is not our choice to make, whether quick or prolonged, peaceful or painful. The most we can do is reclaim the day.

Efficiency

Modern life in the developed world renders my survival instinct lazy and out of practice, so that it is at risk of being shocked when things do not happen with maximum efficiency. In times like these I remind myself that efficiency in daily life is an artificial construct. Rather, I should expect the hunt and chase, and marvel when the game walks right into my hands.

On this beautiful summer's night, I walked the South Street Bridge home, turning into the Schuylkill riverwalk. My mind and body were still resonating with the rumba and Afro-Cuban folkloric beats. I saw my shadow cast onto the boardwalk and made it dance with me. We quite literally danced our way home. I felt close to the stars.

An Ode to Current Affairs

Fuck free speech, and yes to chemical castration. Cut out his tongue and cut off his balls. Tie them up naked on either side of a pole stuck into an ant hill. Justice is a snap. What's the big deal? 49 people dead. The one constant in our lives it seems has been mass shootings and bombings. Terrorism begins from home turf. Let us look inward before we look outward. Idiot with bad hair given a megaphone. How does he still have friends? The rich will serve the rich. The ignoramus will worship the brash and hollow rhetoric.

Cool down, Warm up

My dinner is getting cold because I got my hips hooked on the salsa beats. Warming them up for some good times ahead.

Speaking in Centuries

It's been a quarter of a century since 1990. Take that, perspective.

Reminder

Want nothing; absorb everything.

Modern Sounds

It's 6 in the morning, and pouring rain, but the sky is light. Its soft white-gray hue lights up my curtains. The sound of the rain beating like pebbles against the balcony floor makes me think I might be in a tent in the middle of Jersey, or back home in the Pacific Northwest- or in the middle of a rainforest that Philly once must have been eons ago, like when brontosauri were still roaming the Earth munching on trees. As the day breaks and the minutes move forward, the rain slows to a silence and is surpassed by the sound of cars speeding by below over the wet roads, of car doors slamming shut, and of birds chirping and human voices calling. The roar of the brontosaurus becomes the groaning and heaving of the Septa bus and garbage trucks. Modern Sounds.

The Shark Devours the Seal in One Fell Swoop

To have the opportunity to say goodbye and prepare for a death is, I see now, an opportunity that exceeds expectations. In real life, according to the ways and whims of Mother Nature, death happens in an unplanned instant and is devoid of the sense of justice or retribution. It is not required to explain itself. It is not required to make sense, to forewarn or be gentle. Simply, it is a part of the system of life in which what comes must go. Life goes on. Screams are swallowed by the stars. From here on, survival is predicated on acceptance. However, what is accepted is not the death itself, but rather the sense of loss which becomes a part of the survivor's being.

Spatial Relationships in Dance

In movement, two kinds of spatial relationships are considered and accounted for: the one between the body and the space in which the body moves; and the one between the head-- which houses the mind-- and the body, which is viewed as being separate and distant from the self. Such a disjointed perspective helps to achieve extension, a largeness of presence, balance, and freedom of movement.

The Stranger's Hour

Stepping out into the vacant night, a couple hours before the break of dawn, the air is warm for winter and thick with fog. Beams of light from streetlamps streak through the darkness, their light scattered in a hundred thousand different directions by the microscopic droplets; darting, floating and swirling through space, so that the night is made strangely bright-- almost white-- leaving the lone witness of this hour's spell a stranger in a well-worn path, nought but a shadow herself passing through the mist.




Stepping out into the dawn, the birds scatter out of the bushes and trees. Passing by the empty lot of unkempt grass, a bovine figure stands against the far wall, a fixture beneath the cityscape. Tiny sparrows fly toward the fence, settling into the little looped wire openings. One settles next to a rusted padlock. The earthy red of the rust and the charming roundness of the little sparrow are expressions of beauty which sit side-by-side in peace against the golden light of the waking sun. The light is full of promise.




Stepping into the midnight hour, the air is frigid. The church steeple rises high into the navy blue sky and curves to meet the charcoal branches of a giant tree which bends to meet the steeple. They loom across the sky and pull the ground from beneath her feet. Hooded figures head toward one another, and cross without a word, eyes to the ground. The birds are silent, the fence empty.

Froot Loop

Froot Loops are the colors that dreams are made of 

They are like spoonfuls of happiness 

innocence in a bowl

And you can eat them for breakfast, lunch, or dinner

...and especially for dessert 

Too bad your poop turns green if you eat too much 

Froot Loops are the colors that dreams are made of 

They are like spoonfuls of happiness 

innocence in a bowl

...

Wrapping Up

What is sweet without the bitter? What is life without the urgency caused by death? What is love without yearning? Everything tinged with sadness, all sadness tinged with beauty, each beautiful thing beholds a mystery which fills the heart with wonder- a wonder which elevates the spirit, if only briefly, and not without lasting consequence. This Christmas, I give to show that I love, and I am going to midnight mass as an atheist. Driven by awareness of the brevity of life to seize the chance for kindness and love, for ritual and mystery. This Christmas, I spend time and money on a live Christmas tree that will soon whither and die, driven by nostalgia for Christmas trees past, by a childish reverence for this particular tradition, and by a desire to not let this year's Christmas season pass quietly and forgettably. This year, I embrace the experience of Christmas for all its worth, dead tree and all. Merry Christmas, y'all.

Table Set for Four

After work, I take a walk and gather garlic, persimmon, and a bouquet of pink roses and hydrangea from George Baker flowers. Once home, I boil beef chuck, rehydrate dried seaweed and cringe multiple times at the terrible smell of fish sauce as I spoon it into the brothy medley not once, nor twice, but FIVE times. I arrange the various items just so on my boring, white ikea table, a table set for four.

Yarn Store

I dallied in a yarnyard this afternoon, a resplendent world of different colored skeins. An otherworldly periwinkle blue sat on a shelf, so unassuming, waiting patiently to be transformed into a dreamlike stratosphere. Lush grassy greens and mustard yellows caught my eye; as well did a deep, rich red, and a black that was not quite black-- containing silver linings. In my mind, images were spun of strawberries and Central Park, of traipsing through a wonderland of autumn leaves until time and direction held no meaning. And chartreuse! such a delightfully ambiguous color...

Ballet. Beer. Beatles. The Bachelorette Life.

The Definition of Movement

Theorem 2.5.11: A movement is the integral of an infinitesimal series of poses.

Corollary: Between each pose, there must exist a critical factor called "flow".

Example: Pirouettes. Pique fouettes.

It is unrealistic and detrimental to practice to try to hit every single pose contained within a movement. The mind must focus on the most prominent, pivotal moments and visualize them as images to aim for. Flow must be created through proper timing, proper use of the parts of the body, etc. Flow must be used, not forced; under control, not out of control. 

*Source: The Calculus of Ballet, by Angelina Ballerina