Loose Ends: Creative Life: Dance and Clothespins

 An ad hoc poem I wrote in some time in some where? An exercise with the Tumblewords Project? No idea. But here it is, about a real-life experience at some dance function, in which I was trying to learn how to dance something. My guess is that it was a contra dance thing. 

Two clothespins in his hair. 

What am I to make of this? 

An eccentricity?

A clever hack?

A genius' forgivable befuddlement? 

I can't concentrate on the dance instructions

Which are befuddling enough, like a confounding algebraic word problem about orbiting, colliding bodies on a wooden floor. 

I burst into laughter ...

... at the clothespins in that man's hair ... or the Alice-in-Wonderland instructions for the dance? 

I don't know. 

I wonder ... Can I escape? 

Just leave the floor? 

Abandon my dance partner? (What's his name again?)

Those clothespins. 

Birmingham, AL: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 888: Learning to "Dance" in COVID Times

 

Lincoln University dance recital, Jefferson City, Missouri. April, 2010.

 Before COVID

Since my time in South Louisiana, dancing had comprised a significant portion of my physical exercise, bringing with it a lagniappe of deep pleasure and, often, joy. 

 

Onset of COVID

But in March 2020, while in Tucson, my dance practice plummeted from some to none when COVID-19 slammed that door shut. My body and spirit suffered from the separation.

As I readied for my Tucson departure, the dearth of dance opportunities for the foreseeable future threw up a big ol' DETOUR sign from my original first choice of New Orleans (dance! live music! youthful energy!), pivoting me from one set of destination goals to another, just as worthy.  

 

Living with COVID: A new "dance"

Happily, I have stumbled on a COVID-safe way to dance in Birmingham.

Tennis! 

I began weekly tennis lessons last month via the James Lewis Education and Tennis Foundation. Below is a story of the foundation, executive director and gifted coach, Rudy Lewis, and the foundation's inspiration: 

 

The lessons are outdoors, the skillful coaches wear masks (as do most of the students, including me), and only the coaches are allowed to touch the balls or other tennis paraphernalia with their hands. The coaches sanitize all of the balls and rental rackets prior to the lesson. The pro shop practices a variety of good COVID practices, as well.

I'd never have imagined it, but learning to play tennis feels exactly like learning to dance! (Albeit, with no music, alas.)

Tennis' dance requires me to learn:

• Signals from my opponent that tell me what their next move might be, such as their body's position, where they are on the court, and the angle of their racket
• My foot and hip placements in relation to my intermediary "partner," the net
• My foot movements as I position myself to respond to the ball
• What I choose to look at before, during, and after my response
  
• A graceful, confident completion of my stroke
• The angle of my racket ("open" or "closed")

You'll notice all of the above relates to me being, let's say, the "follow." This is because I haven't learned how to serve ("lead") yet.

There are even "dynamic" warm-up drills that translate directly to my fitness, flexibility, and dexterity for when dance returns, such as: 

• Carioca (zydeco!)
• Side shuffle
• "A" skips
  

At least during this honeymoon period, I am in love with tennis and its dance soul. 

Related posts

From South Louisiana

• Learning to Dance, Part 1: Solving for X
• Learning to Dance, Part 2: The Tao of Following
• Learning to Dance, Part 3: The Pause
• Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals
• Learning to Dance, Part 5: Anticipation
• Learning to Dance, Part 6: It Takes a Village

From St. Louis

• Learning to Dance: Swing, Part 1:  Remember the Curve

 

Las Cruces NM 2019: Contra Contra Dancing

Bayou Seco, Las Cruces, New Mexico. February 2019.

I do not like contra dancing. In fact, not only do I dislike contra dancing, I harbor actual antipathy toward the genre. It is a living dislike, as if I've got a giant, contra contra-dancing thing in my belly, like a tapeworm.

Not proud of it.

There are people I like who love contra dancing. They are smart, energetic, well-rounded, way cooler-than-me people.

One of these remarkable people will probably read this post. I'm sorry. Can we agree that seafood is delicious but some of us have an involuntary allergic reaction to it?

Although I don't know why I have such a visceral response to the dance style in general, I do know why I struggle with it in some specifics.

The main is: Math + directional challenges

Dance requires both math and a sense of direction.

I talk about this in Part 1 of my series Learning to Dance:

• Learning to Dance, Part 1: Solving for X
• Learning to Dance, Part 2: The Tao of Following
• Learning to Dance, Part 3: The Pause
• Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals
• Learning to Dance, Part 5: Anticipation
• Learning to Dance, Part 6: It Takes a Village

So contra dancing is hard enough, but THEN! it turns out one must learn MULTIPLE dances and patterns of dance in different directions! All in one DAY!

You would think it wouldn't be so bad because there is actually a person with a mic who actually tells you in advance which step you are about to do. But on occasion a caller - who in all aspects of his life is likely a charming, high-functioning, jewel of a fellow - has trouble remembering what the steps are to a particular dance that HE himself has chosen to teach before the dancers actually perform the dance to actual music. What ensues is Pure D hell for the likes of me, as we go hither and thither in chaotic short bursts, then stand for interminable bits of time - ALL TO NO MUSIC YET! - and I wonder about the etiquette of abandoning one's partner on the ballroom floor so I can fling myself off the ship into an ocean. Because I'm not going to get the dance even if or when the caller gets things sorted.

And THEN the next dance will be a completely different dance, but all of my CPU memory will still be spinning from the previous memory-sucking operation, and ... more mixed metaphors will happen.

I'm NOT saying this happened on one beautiful February evening in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It probably didn't happen. Just imagine that it could have happened.


But let's not confuse the dance with the music. The music is roots music, Americana, I like it.

Bayou Seco, Las Cruces, New Mexico. February 2019.

The band performing in February was Bayou Seco. I relished a bit of South Lousiana in Las Cruces. A taste below:

Learning to Dance: Swing, Part 1: Remember the Curve

Swing, Toronto, Canada. Summer 2016.

One of my goals when I moved to Louisiana was to learn to dance. I wrote a series about my Louisiana dance-learning experience:

Learning to Dance, Part 1: Solving for X
Learning to Dance, Part 2: The Tao of Following
Learning to Dance, Part 3: The Pause
Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals
Learning to Dance, Part 5: Anticipation

Swing, Toronto, Canada. Summer 2016.

When I moved to El Paso, I intended to learn salsa, and I made some attempts at getting into the dance scene, but it didn't happen.

One of my St. Louis goals was to learn swing dancing. This post inaugurates the story of my progress.

Via a meetup group I joined, I began weekly swing dance lessons at the Moolah Shrine in one of St. Louis' bajillion cities that cluster around actual St. Louis: Creve Coeur. Or maybe Maryland Heights. Or Bridgeton. It's a toss-up.

West County Swing Dance Club hosts the Tuesday-night dance, which includes an hour-long lesson before the dance begins. There are different lesson groups, which range from beginner to advanced.

I began at Level 1: Beginner. In fact, I did three weeks at the beginner level before moving on to Level 2, which is where I am as I write this post.

Swing, Toronto, Canada. Summer 2016.

On learning swing, I am re-learning lessons I thought I knew, both in dance and life:

Learning a new dance means making mistakes, looking stupid, feeling lost, feeling impatient with myself. I must remind myself that this is normal. I'm supposed to make mistakes, look stupid, and feel lost. I don't need to feel impatient with myself. Instead, I must remember the cardinal rule of dance: Have fun!

My tendency to move too quickly, to forget the importance of the pause - the importance of letting a process unfold rather than push toward the destination, to relax into the moment, to savor the act - remains.

El Paso: The Tumblewords Project: Be Silent

White Sands National Monument, New Mexico. March 2010.

The rule at the Tumblewords Project is that if you write something, you've got to read it. No explanations, histories, excuses, or any other blablablahs before reading, with one exception. You can preface your reading with "this is shit." I always chuckle at this.

Here's a piece I wrote after a reading prompt on one Tumblewords day (with some editing):

Be Silent

As we dance, be silent please.
I don't know you,
I just dance with you.

If you talk, you may reveal things
I don't want to know and
Your unwelcome noise will
Scatter the waves between the music,
The singers' songs, and
The sway of our bodies,
The vibration in the air above us, and our
Touch, and yea, even the occasional
Lock of eyes between us.

Because you may say something
I don't want to hear about
Your neighbors or your exes or
"Those people,"
Whomever those people are to you,
Who you denigrate with your
Moral superiority.

I want to dance and
I want you to just keep your
Mouth shut (please) and
Let me fold into the silence of
Your reality to better imagine
Myself in the dream of
Dance and the union of
Souls and the sound of rhythms,
Like our ancient ancestors did before us,
As they swirled around the large
Fire
Beneath an inky sky freckled with the Milky Way.

Toronto: Swing, Swing, Swing at the Harbourfront

Swing at the Harbourfront, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

If I were a religious sort, I'd say that one must add swing to the list of dance and music that make a "joyful noise to the Lord:"

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth;
    break forth into joyous song and sing praises!
⁵ Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre,
    with the lyre and the sound of melody!
⁶ With trumpets and the sound of the horn
    make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord!

⁷ Let the sea roar, and all that fills it;
    the world and those who dwell in it!
⁸ Let the rivers clap their hands;
    let the hills sing for joy together

In the summer, at Toronto's Harbourfront, there are regular dance events, each time featuring a different style. One evening, Sandy, her friend Heloise, and I partook of swing. Video below:

A joyful noise!

Swing at the Harbourfront, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Toronto: Jazz Festival 2016: Swing v. Street

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Oh, the energy! Love.

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

My favorite number - street dancers from KeepRockinYou; band is Worst Pop Group Ever in video below:

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

It makes me happy to see the women dancers!

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

A teeny but mighty video below:

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

A dance-off between swing and street below:

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Street v. swing, Jazz Festival 2016, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

Going by the visuals, you might get the idea that the band, The Worst Pop Group Ever, was just background for the dancing. No. This band popped.

Toronto: Dancing at the Harbourfront: Salsa

Dancing at the Harbourfront, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

My God, I love the photo above.

Yeah, I know, the dance instructor's feet are lopped off at the bottom.

But look at the movement in this photo, the color, the facial expressions.

The showmanship of the instructor - magnificent!

After I finish looking him up and down and sideways, my eyes go to the woman in the blue dress, which hugs her just right, whose body slants diagonally, as does her purse strap, as does the placement of her feet - and her side-eye over to the instructor - all marvelous.

Then I admire the sunset-painted toes of the woman on the right, with her luxuriously thick hair, with those latte stripes, so pretty.

Life is good on this fine evening along Lake Ontario.

Learning to Dance, Part 6: It Takes a Village

Cowboy Symposium, Ruidoso, New Mexico.

Lessons are good and even practicing steps in front of a mirror are good. But it takes a village to teach a dancer.

A sampling of native, transplant, and visiting villagers in South Louisiana who have helped me learn how to dance:

Agnes C.
Bailey
Barbara
Bev
Brian M.
Charles R.
Dale N.
Dennis W.
Dick
Dolan
Doug from the Blue Moon
Doug Mc
Francois
Frank S.
Geoff R. 
Hannah B.
Harold ("Fred")
Jay M. ("and then there was a beautiful breeze")
Jeff B.
Jim
Joe
John D.
John R.
Kathleen Mc
Kay W.
Jacques ("shall we do the same ol' shit again?")
Leon
Moriba
Mike H.
Paul S. ("1, 2, 3, 4. ...1, 2, 3, 4")
Ray H.
Sonny
Ted C.
The Other Ted, the one who dances with that other woman from Missouri
Theresa I.
T.J. L.
Tony L.
Wayne
Wilfred K. 



Thank you.


Related posts:

Learning to Dance, Part 1: Solving for X
Learning to Dance, Part 2: The Tao of Following
Learning to Dance, Part 3: The Pause
Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals
Learning to Dance, Part 5: Anticipation

Learning to Dance, Part 5: Anticipation

Lincoln University dance recital, April 2010. Jefferson City, Missouri.

When it comes to ketchup and romantic trysts, anticipation is a good thing. It's not so good in the context of dance.

When I "anticipate" in dance, it means that I take a dance step that I think will correspond to what my dance lead will do in the next moment.

Anticipation is a well-meaning attempt of a new dancer to:

1. Avoid making a mistake; and
2. Paradoxically, follow well. 

Notwithstanding the good intentions, anticipation is a bad habit. Anticipation is an attempt to control the unknown. It's about living in the future and not in the moment. It's about making assumptions about your partner, which may not be true. It's about trying to get into the head of another person and, in the process, losing touch with one's own thoughts and feelings, the flow of the music, and the physicality that's happening in the now.

When I refrain from anticipation, I sharpen my dance skills because I am forced to pay closer attention to signals from my partner. Because I let go of my illusion of control, I am freer to get inside the music and to feel the physical interplay between me, my partner, and the music. I accept that I will make mistakes.



Related posts: 

Learning to Dance, Part 1: Solving for X
Learning to Dance, Part 2: The Tao of Following
Learning to Dance, Part 3: The Pause
Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals

Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals

RR crossing, Lordsburg, New Mexico.

As the follow in a partner dance, I need to catch the lead's signals so I know what he intends to do next or what he wants me to do next.

As a novice dancer, it is common for me to misinterpret or miss a signal.

Sometimes I smile when I think about dance signals because it puts me in the mind of a horse and a rider. An equestrian gives the slightest physical cues to a horse, such as a bit of leg pressure on a horse's flank or pressure on both sides at once, or a subtle lead on the reins - all to ask the horse to turn to the left or right, or to move into a higher speed, or back up or move forward. 

Sharing this analogy with a dance partner could lead to a whole other category of signals, so I just keep it to myself.

This way. Highway 3. New Mexico.

The Mystery of the Right Hand  

In October, I was dancing with an out-of-town partner - let's call him Jacques - and in the midst of a dance, he suddenly said, "What, are you afraid of where my hand is going to go?"

In my rapid-fire wit, I said, "What?"

Jacques said, "You're grabbing my hand and moving it."

I said, "What?"

He repeated his statement, and I said, "What are you talking about? I'm not doing that."

Jacques assured me that this was exactly what I was doing.

I proposed that he tell me when it happened again so I can try and figure out the deal.

Presently, he did. And then I understood.

It was a signal mix-up on my end. When we were dancing in an open position, sometimes Jacques would put his right palm up and I knew that meant we would begin to dance with our hands held, but still in an open position. Other times, when we were dancing in the open position, he would move his right hand toward me, but NOT with his palm facing me. I hadn't put it together yet that when Jacques did this, it meant we would dance in a closed position, with his right hand on my left shoulder blade and my left hand on his right bicep or on his right shoulder blade. So what would happen is that - often - when I saw Jacques' right hand come up, I thought we were going to dance with hands held, but in an open position. Therefore, I would mistakenly grasp his hand while he was in the process of trying to put it around me and onto my left shoulder blade.

Consequence: We both jumped to inaccurate conclusions based on the misinterpretation of physical signals, me on the basis of inexperience and Jacques on the basis of a past experience with a dance partner who did accuse him of cheekiness.



A Brain Shift


A day or so later, I danced again with Jacques, this time in a different dance venue.

About halfway through the event, I noticed that Jacques began to execute a new-to-me hand signal. We had been dancing with both of our hands connected, but in an open position. He disengaged his right hand from my left, and flicked his partially-closed right hand toward his right. Jacques' movement had the appearance of a careless toss of junk mail that you're flipping over to a counter.

Somehow, I understood this was a signal for me to turn to my left, and I laughed and joked, "I guess the honeymoon is over," editorializing on the apparent carelessness, the laziness - the taking-for-grantedness - of the gesture.

Even though my teasing was truly in fun, it did reflect my limited knowledge of signals. You see, in previous dance lessons and subsequent real-life practice, I knew what it looked like when a lead dancer wanted me to turn right when we were in a one-hand-held, open position - he made an extended sweep of his left hand, almost pointing me in the direction he wanted me to go.  I hadn't yet been exposed to the movement Jacques made with his right hand.

Jacques took the teasing in stride, without comment, and it wasn't until later the same night or maybe at a different venue altogether, that I noticed exactly the same gesture made by other lead dancers.

And do you know, once I realized this was a signal used and recognized by experienced dancers, things recalibrated in my brain with the result that I saw it in an entirely new light - as a smooth, studied move and not a casual, careless one.

Now, isn't that something? That brain shift?



Related links: 

Learning to Dance: Solving for X
Learning to Dance: The Tao of Following
Learning to Dance: The Pause

Learning to Dance: The Pause

Dancing La Marinera in Tularosa, New Mexico. San Francisco de Paula Festival 2013.

Last year, at the Feed 'n Seed, I danced with an older gentleman. A slow-ish song. About 30 seconds into our dance, he said quietly in my ear, "Slow down, we're not in a hurry to go anywhere."

This centered me right then, and for the rest of the dance, I could be in the moment with where my partner was going and which rhythm line of the song he was choosing.

Holi Festival 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Earlier in the year, before the Feed 'n Seed experience, at a Vermilionville Bal du Dimanche, a woman generously tutored me on a zydeco movement. I had taken zydeco lessons a month or so before, and I'd learned a basic zydeco shuffle in which every beat of the eight-count in zydeco was accounted for with a step or tap. But this woman was showing me something different. I didn't see the eight counts in her steps, I couldn't replicate her movements, and it confounded me.

I asked her about the step count, and she said - bless her generous heart - "don't worry about counting, just move with the music." I couldn't do anything with that information, so I asked her to keep demonstrating her steps until I could solve the mystery. She graciously complied.

Finally, I saw it.

On the third and seventh steps, she PAUSED. The fourth and eighth step were there, but "silent." Ohhhhhh.

When I excitedly shared my newfound understanding, the woman looked a little puzzled, and then shrugged, as if to say "whatever," apparently not excited as I about my tremendous breakthrough in understanding. I'm guessing she had so internalized her step movements, she didn't even notice the pause, and thus didn't think to explain it.

Feed n Seed, Lafayette, Louisiana.

These two experiences planted seeds in my neonatal dance mind, but they didn't stick until I took a new round of zydeco dance lessons this month.

The instructor informed me several times that I was going through movements too quickly. He EXPLICITLY directed me to pause. He hammered these points when I struggled to make turns correctly, so that I'd finish on the right foot at the right beat.

Finally, I got it. I have to PAUSE when I take that first turn-step.

The pause makes all the difference.

There is a maturity, an elegance, a sensuality, in the dance pause.

It's gratification delayed, it's listening and feeling, it's a breath.



Related posts: 

Learning to Dance: Solving for X
Learning to Dance: The Tao of Following

Louisiana: Chewing Gum and Dance

Source: The Jumping Frog

Before I came to South Louisiana, I didn't chew much gum. When I did, and after it had played out, more often than not, I just swallowed it. (I swallow watermelon seeds, too.)

But in South Louisiana, I chew way more gum than I ever have in my life. It is kind of what one does while dancing. So I don't swallow it anymore. There are limits.

I tried to find statistics to support my hypothesis that South Louisianans consume far more gum per capita than other regions in the U.S.  Couldn't find any state-by-state comparisons. But I did learn that Iran and Saudi Arabia have the highest percentage of gum chewers in the world. The U.S. is third.

But getting back to chewing gum and South Louisiana. As I said, many dancers here chew gum.

This salsa forum discusses the pros and cons of gum, mints, sprays, strips, and good ol' fashioned teeth brushing before dancing.

This gum ad suggests that the right chewing gum could actually cause you to break into dancing:

Stride Gum sponsored this magnificently happy-making dance video by Where the hell is Matt:

From the Do's and Don'ts of Square and Round Dancing: 

..... don't forget to use something to sweeten your breath (mouth wash, chewing gum, etc.) Avoid eating garlic or other offenders before attending a dance.

The Teaberry Shuffle, the dance steps one breaks into upon taking a piece of Teaberry gum:

To be honest, the only direct link I can find between Louisiana and gum chewing is a 2009 Louisiana State University study about the effects of gum chewing on academics and our health.

Learning to Dance: The Tao of Following

Crawfish Festival 2014, Breaux Bridge, Lousiana.

Two of my goals for my Louisiana sojourn have been to:

1. Learn to dance; and then 
2. Go out and do it.

It's now been about  year and a half since I took my first dance lessons (Cajun, Zydeco, and line dancing) and here's where I am:


On following:

There are pleasures in following that I did not anticipate, especially for a recovering control freak like me:

• I'm not the driver; my partner is. I don't have to worry about what's behind us or around us, that's my partner's job. I can relax into the process - physically and mentally - in the trust that he's going to get us around the dance floor safely and smoothly.  And when the occasional fender bender occurs, oh well, all I need to do is smile and shrug and keep on moving. 

• There is a beauty in being fully mindful of only the moment I am in, so I can feel my partner's cues about what we will do in the next moment. I have to work at this because it is easy to become distracted and for me to lose that connection. It can also be tempting to try and anticipate my partner's next move, which means I am living in a future moment that may or may not be real, and it disrupts the fluidity of the present. 

• I adore roller coasters.  The physical rush of controlled danger, of g forces, of going up and down and around. A lead partner who knows how to facilitate the twirls and turns and spin-outs - as the follower, it is like being on a roller coaster. A head rush. 

On the fear of being observed and judged by others while I'm dancing

Whereas this form of self-consciousness would have been paralyzing before Louisiana, somehow it disappeared early on in my Louisiana dance quest. Seriously. There have been a number of times where a dance partner and I are the only couple on a dance floor and I don't even think about it. Some reasons why this is true flows from my role as the follower:

1. My dance partner obviously has the confidence to be half of a sole couple on the dance floor, and I take on the cloak of that confidence. 
2. As a new dancer, I am so focused on what my partner is doing that I have no brain space left to worry about onlookers. To do my part as a follower, I need to stay fully in the moment. 
3. And part of it is a choice that is similar to that made by Cheryl Strayed (author of Wild) when she decided to walk the Pacific Crest Trail - she had to tell herself that she did not fear mountain lions, bears or rattlesnakes or else she couldn't have embarked on the walk. I had to let go of self-consciousness about my dancing in order to achieve my goal. This was big-big because there was a time when jumping out of a plane was less scary than dancing.

Crawfish Festival 2014, Breaux Bridge, Lousiana.

Monogamous versus polyandrous dancing

Monogamous

Monogamous dance couples can practice steps and routines together, blend their rhythms, experiment with new steps or timing or patterns, and develop what can be a moving art form on the dance floor, a joy to watch. Even monogamous couples who are unvarying in their dance styles can demonstrate through their body language the pleasure they derive from dancing together.

A downside, of course, is that a monogamous dance couple can become stagnant to the point where one partner feels desirous of new moves - some spice - whilst the other wants to stay in his comfort zone.   

Crawfish Festival 2014, Breaux Bridge, Lousiana.

Polyandrous

A woman without a regular dance partner must become polyandrous.

Benefits of multiple lead partners for new dancers:

• Practice in how to stay present so I can go with the lead's flow
• Practice in how to stay present so I can avoid trying to anticipate the lead's next move, which gets me into trouble
• Constant exposure to new moves (originally I wrote "constant learning of new moves," but see re: geometry in Learning to Dance: Solving for X.)
• Regular receipt of feedback that promotes improvement 
• Regular receipt of feedback that promotes acceptance of feedback in this and other areas of my life ("acceptance" doesn't necessarily mean agreement; it means receiving without pushing back) 
• Once I know a particular dancer's moves, then I know what to expect, therefore, there is some predictability (in a good sense), resulting in less stress for me as the follower

Disadvantages of multiple dance partners for new dancers:

• A new lead brings the great unknown, which is a little anxiety-producing
• Conflicting feedback from different partners on best practices, which can cause consternation to a new dancer - at first. (Over time, however, I've learned to take what I want [or that I am ready for], and leave the rest.)

Crawfish Festival 2014, Breaux Bridge, Lousiana.

My favorite dance partners

The best dance partner is not necessarily the most knowledgeable or the most skilled. He doesn't necessarily have the greatest number of moves, or the showiest. 

My favorite partners are those who:

• Are such skillful prompters in their lead role that they make me appear to be a far more accomplished dancer than I am. They even make me feel more accomplished than I am.

• Dance because it's fun and that's what they care about for themselves and for their partners. When I mess up, they don't give one shit about that - they are dancing for the joy and they want me to have joy, too.

• During a slow dance, they dance slow. Some leads like to dance fast to a slow song. Slow is sexier.

Learning to Dance: Solving for X

A friend said to me once: Every day is solving for x.

It certainly is the case in my quest to learn how to dance in South Louisiana.

My experience of dance (and other patterns of movement such as t'ai chi) is that it is a form of geometry.

The definition of geometry is: "from the Ancient Greek:  geo- "earth", -metron "measurement") [and] is a branch of mathematics concerned with questions of shape, size, relative position of figures, and the properties of space."

There's a blank space in my brain in regard to geometry. I don't have a good sense of direction. Line graphs are a head-scratcher. Distance and length estimations - wild-ass guesses. 

When dance partners sometimes say, "no worries! just go with the beat! don't count the steps!" this is well-meaning, but it's not actionable information. For people like me, we've got to break it down, see how it's built, and then see if we can replicate it with our spatially-challenged limbs and joints. Eventually, we'll get it, given enough practice, but we are remedial students. 

There are several line dances currently popular that involve a lot of turning AND heel-toe, chacha, or rock step action, plus some hopping bits that paralyze my brain cells. Helpful people - and they really are! - call out the steps while we're doing it, point their arms in the direction I need to go, and so on, but sadly, this only adds more stimuli to a brain that is already in cascade-fail mode. These sainted South Louisianans, who only want me to succeed, have no idea that below is how my neurons interpret their information:

Credit: Amplify

So between you and me, sometimes I have to just tune them out. Please don't say anything.

Having said all of the above, things have gotten better in the year and a half I've now been here. Some steps I can do with confidence, others middling so, and others remain (for now) an algorithmic teaser that I hope to some day master.

It's all worth it, though.  With dance comes joy.

Gathering of Nations, Part 3

Gathering of Nations, Albuquerque, New Mexico. May 2013.

Here it is August 2015, and I found this draft from back in 2013. Do you think anyone will notice my tardiness?

Not sure how I intended to tie things up with Part 3, but below are the links to Parts 1 and 2:

Gathering of Nations, Part 1. Includes links to my posts on the Red Paint Powwow in Silver City. Also includes notice of troubling remarks related to women by one of the Gathering of Nations emcees. I heard a similar discordant note at the recent Coushatta Powwow last month in Louisiana.

Gathering of Nations, Part 2: A Whole 'Nother Genre of Music. I wrote about the revelation of "round dance songs." Wow. This is where I first heard the captivating voice of Fawn Wood.  

I know that I did intend to educate myself on some of the current activist and cultural streams as a result of puzzling statements I heard by emcees or performers. The statements alluded to tensions in the powwow world and also in the greater Native communities societally. That research never happened.

A good article on powwows, though:

Powwow 101, from Native Peoples Magazine, 2004


A slide show from my Gathering of Nations visit:

In fact, I have a number of New Mexico post drafts yet to be published. I've even got a post from Caucasus Georgia still to put out there. Because readers dip in and out of blogs irrespective of chronology, well, that just works out fine.

Flashback to August 2013: New Mexico: The Jingle Dress Dance

From my August 2, 2013 post about the Mescalero Apache parade in July:

Friday, August 2, 2013

The Jingle Dress Dance

Jingle dress dancer, Mescalero parade, Mescalero, New Mexico

There were jingle dancers at the Mescalero parade in July:

Here, a woman tells the story - several stories, in fact - about the history and meaning of the jingle dress dance.

An excerpt:

One of the most profound elements of Jingle Dress dancing is its spiritual power, which originates as an energy generated from the sound of the cones that sing out to the spirits when dancers lift their feet in time with the drum. The very act of dancing in this dress constitutes a prayer for healing, and often spectators, musicians, and other dancers will make gifts of tobacco to a dancer and request that she pray for an ill family member while she dances. An example of hidden spirituality and ritual within a public forum, the ever-unfolding story of the Jingle Dress Dance is unique in Indian Country. There is little fanfare and no public announcement when the Jingle Dance is performed as a healing prayer, only a quiet circulation of family members from dancer to dancer, a whispered request, and a quick nod of thanks by both parties.

Jingle dress dancer, Mescalero parade, Mescalero, New Mexico

Louisiana: Dancing Shoes

At a recent zydeco breakfast event, I admired Miss Kay's red dancing shoes. She let me photograph them.

Miss Kay's red dancing shoes. Lafayette, Louisiana.

A few months back, I needed to buy some new shoes. Never did I imagine that some day I would want to take into account if my new shoes were danceable. But there I was at the shoe stores, checking the smoothness of the soles to see how they'd slide easily over a dance floor.

Miss Kay? Well, she grew up in Alabama, but one day she pulled up stakes and came to Lafayette. She dances.

Louisiana: The Yankee Chank

Before I tell you what a "Yankee chank" is, I have to tell you what chank is, or more specifically, "chanky chank."

Chanky chank

Back in the day, chanky chank was a derogatory term used to describe Cajun/Creole (and early zydeco) music.  Go here for a thorough explanation in an article, From Chanky-Chank to Yankee Chanks: The Cajun Accordion as Identity Symbol, by Louisiana music ethnomusicologist, Dr. Mark DeWitt. The article is from the book, The Accordion in the Americas: Klezmer, Polka, Tango, Zydeco, and More! edited by Helena Simonette.

Dewey Balfa. Source: Smithsonian Folkways

Chanky chank gained some prestige when: 

In 1964 [Dewey] Balfa and his band were asked to perform as last-minute replacements at the Newport Folk Festival in Rhode Island, a premier event in the world of folk music and a top outdoor venue. Friends in Louisiana knew that he would be playing the old-fashioned Cajun music they called "chanky-chank," and suggested that the group would be laughed off the stage. Instead, Balfa received a standing ovation.

Source: Encylopedia

Yankee chank

I'd never heard of chanky chank until I attended the last in a series of discussions about how documentaries have portrayed Cajuns, beginning with The Louisiana Story.  Dr. Barry Ancelet, a folklorist, facilitated the series. Don't remember how we got on the subject, but we talked about how sometimes transplants to Acadiana are stern arbiters of the right way to dance Cajun or zydeco. (These are referred to generally as dance nazis, who are by no means exclusive to the Cajun and zydeco genres.)

Dr. Ancelet immediately said, "Yankee chanks."

I love this.

Yankee chank refers to people from outside southern Louisiana who play the Cajun and zydeco music, especially accordions. Meant somewhat derisively at first, perhaps, it looks like at least some of the targets of this label have now embraced it with pride. Also, I should note that at the Saturday Cajun jam at Vermilionville, the emcee always introduces and expresses appreciation for visiting musicians from outside Louisiana.

Source: Yankee Chank

Louisiana: Holi Festival 2014, Girard Park, Lafayette

Holi Festival 2014, Girard Park, Lafayette, Louisiana.

The Holi Festival in Lafayette, Louisiana.

Before. It was rather sedate. 

Holi Festival 2014, Girard Park, Lafayette, Louisiana.

And after. Not so sedate.

Holi Festival 2014, Girard Park, Lafayette, Louisiana.

It was pure childlike pleasure.

Holi Festival 2014, Girard Park, Lafayette, Louisiana.

There was dancing before the color flew.









A beautiful day for a beautiful festival that celebrates the coming of spring.

Holi Festival 2014, Girard Park, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Makes me think of other spring rites, such as Bayrami in Vakhtangisi  and Gardabani.


A slide show:


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