by meghanleborious | Aug 4, 2014 | Notes on Practice
August 3, 2014
This blog consists of my own subjective experiences on the 5Rhythms® dancing path, and are not sanctioned by any 5Rhythms® organization or teacher.
Taught by teacher-trainee Alex de Willermin, the second meeting of the Family Waves class—the first 5Rhythms class in New York City to include both kids and adults—took the sea as its theme.
Alex coordinated an installation with various objects that reference the ocean; and started the class with a physical demonstration of an ocean wave. She held her arms in a wide wingspan, then swept to the farthest corner of the gathered circle, starting low—just like a wave gathering itself and traveling along far out at sea—then drawing itself up into a form, then crashing, then taking a little rest by the shore before it is drawn back to the sea again. She explained that we would do the same thing in the class, except we would be dancing a wave.
She also took a few moments to set some ground rules about safety and personal space—especially relevant for my son, Simon, and his small friend, who continued in this class (please see the post from July 29, 2014) to do sprinting laps around the perimeter of the dance floor.
I was delighted that Simon’s father—who was my partner for eight years—joined us. It might be interesting to note that when we were together, I had fervently wished that he would do a 5Rhythms class with me. He was not even slightly receptive; and I came to imagine that if he would just step into the rhythms, we could work out our many ongoing conflicts and find the shining love that brought us together initially. I let go of that fantasy long ago, and was delighted to connect with him, remembering even the tenderness and wild attraction that characterized our first years together.
He came on this occasion because his brother was visiting from Charlotte with his teenage children. His brother had agreed to attend the class as a way for us get together during their brief local visit. He was accompanied by three of his kids and another nephew—all verging on adults now; and I greeted them happily as they entered.
We commenced in a circle, holding hands, which I suspect was a strategy to pause the sprinting laps around the perimeter, while Alex gave initial instructions. She did something a few times that I thought was very effective and that you don’t often see in adult classes, which was to turn off the music briefly while giving us instructions.
I confess that I was still (as I discussed in the last post about Family Waves on July 29) slightly pre-occupied with Simon’s sprinting laps and wishing he would engage more with the people in the room. Despite this, I was able to move fluidly and joyfully. I note that he was less of a maniac this class than in the last one; and I praised him at length after the class was over for this seeming improvement.
I was overjoyed to dance with a new friend who came with her baby son, numerous good friends, my niece, nephews, brother-in-law and, of course, with my former partner. I had several interesting side-by-side dances with my brother-in-law, when he moved with precise, conscious movements, seeming to go deep within. At one point, Alex had us form a circle and take turns dancing in the middle in groups of four. Some were hesitant, but most warmed up to the idea before long.
Alex ended the class with the Elizabeth Mitchell version of the song, “Peace Like a River.” I let myself fall into a spin–my favorite place. Simon approached me and I slowed slightly, scooping him up, then holding him loosely as I continued to spin and spin, smiling and laughing, as I had done during pregnancy and throughout his infancy and now-passed babyhood.
Simon and I danced all the rest of the day. In the evening he told me, “There is a song singing in my head,” He sang it and it was, “I’ve got peace like a river in my soul. I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river in my soul. I’ve got joy like an ocean in my soul. I’ve got joy like an ocean, I’ve got joy like an ocean, I’ve got joy like an ocean in my soul.”
I put the song on; and we continued to dance, delighting each other with new movement experiments and reflecting on how much fun we had, dancing with our friends.
Family Waves is New York City’s first 5Rhythms class for both children and adults. It meets the first Saturday of every month at 11 AM at White Wave Dance Studio in Dumbo, Brooklyn. The class is taught by rotating 5Rhythms teachers and teachers-in-training.
by meghanleborious | Aug 3, 2014 | Notes on Practice
July 21, 2014
This blog consists of my own subjective experiences on the 5Rhythms® dancing path, and are not sanctioned by any 5Rhythms® organization or teacher.
I did not dance for two consecutive Fridays; and was eager to get to dance on Friday night. There was a tiny flavor of fear, too, after a few days away, that the magic would have disappeared and I wouldn’t be able to move at all. I should not have worried, since I was swept away by the strength of the crowd shortly after I entered the room.
The first wave was delightful; and Tammy brought us together briefly before starting the second wave. She shared that she had challenged herself to come up with something that she doesn’t like about 5Rhythms; and that the only things she could think of were easily dismissed as functions of her own ego.
Tammy also went through the litany of the Rhythms quickly, for the sake of new dancers: Flowing, Staccato, Chaos, Lyrical and Stillness. I felt a wave of emotion. I have heard that very litany hundreds, if not thousands, of times now. This has been my path.
Once, at a Buddhist training, a senior teacher in the Shambhala Buddhist tradition began talking about a file cabinet that contains all of his Buddhist certificates and training documents, “This has been my path,” he said, and he surprised himself, choking on one gasping sob. “This has been my path.” Tears poured down his cheeks as he was briefly overwhelmed with emotion.
I felt similarly in this moment. The emotions I could identify were devotion, heartbreaking gratitude, a kind of wonder, and gigantic, pulsing tenderness. There seemed to be enormous energy in my throat that would gather and release. I cried periodically throughout the class; and rested my forehead to the floor after the conclusion of the final song and wept.
Before the second wave began, Tammy invited us to investigate balance through different parts of our bodies, starting with asking us to remain balanced on one foot for as long as possible, then to shift onto the other foot once the suspended foot chanced to touch the ground. I was delighted, experimenting happily with the edges of balance, finding that I could go quite far from my center of gravity and still stay alight.
I remembered an exercise Tammy had led us in during a Waves level Shadow workshop several years before. During an investigation of Chaos and its adjacent forces, Tammy had us move into the very edge of balance, and in fact tip past it (I believe she used the phrase “drunken sailor”) I was thrilled then, as I was on this occasion. By way of aside, I note that I was six months pregnant at the workshop; and, unlike many pregnant women, I never fell or had any significant problems with balance during pregnancy. I didn’t even move like a pregnant woman for that matter; and I attribute it to dancing hard all the way through.
I absolutely love exploring my edges, exploring boundaries, walking on the edge of a sharp blade. I can be rebellious when subjected to conventions—sometimes even an intensity-junkie. It is on that very edge—of moving, of relating, of creating—that things get most fertile. The conventions that cause me to round things off, rather than perceive the pointed specificity of the spectacular phenomenal world, fall away. Dazzling light spills all over the place.
As is so often the case, the experience of the dance itself becomes a metaphor that challenges and inspires me. Within dance, every edge that I explore and identify shifts once again—leaving my heart more and more open to infinity—the ultimate unfathomable edge.
by meghanleborious | Jul 29, 2014 | Notes on Practice
July 14, 2014, Brooklyn, New York
This blog consists of my own subjective experiences on the 5Rhythms® dancing path, and are not sanctioned by any 5Rhythms® organization or teacher.
Family Waves, the first regularly-occurring 5Rhythms class in New York City to explicitly include children, met for the first time on July 5th at White Wave Studio in Dumbo, Brooklyn. My son, Simon, who is now four, has absolutely been raised in 5Rhythms, but I kept feeling like I couldn’t get him on the dance floor as much as both of us wanted. Kids are welcome to attend most adult classes occasionally, but it is out of respect for the adult participants, who may want to work with material that is not kid-friendly, that I hold back. I kept trying to get an informal group of dancers with children together, but it never worked out. I didn’t want to bother any certified teachers with my little project, but I finally got over myself and started to look into the possibility of actually producing a formal class. Now, it has become a reality; and I pray I can raise my son within the practice, like some people choose to raise their children within a given church.
Beginning in pregnancy, I have learned a lot about myself, my son, and about our relationship through dancing together—both in formal and informal situations. When he was tiny, the best way to soothe him was by holding him and dancing and spinning. I would dance, placing him occasionally in a baby seat next to me, but holding him in my arms most of the time. In fact, the times that I have felt closest to him have been while dancing. Or perhaps I should say, the times that I have noticed how incredibly close we are—how deeply connected—have been in dance. My heart has been broken with tenderness again and again as we work our way through a wave together.
One of the most important lessons from my own practice that I was able to apply early in Simon’s life came from learning to look for empty space and move into it, as we do in the rhythm of Flowing. When he was tiny, dancing with him in Tammy’s Thursday class at Sandra Cameron studio, I was able to articulate this important lesson. When he was an infant, Simon needed me when he needed me. Everything was urgent, so whenever I tried to do creative work, I would again and again have to drop it. Because of Flowing, I had learned to trust that empty space would always open up again, so I could easily drop what I was doing, knowing that before long I would be able to return to it. I learned to keep careful lists and logs, so as soon as space did open up I could move into it, and not waste precious time evaluating priorities and questioning myself.
When Simon was a toddler, I was proud of the way he would bound into a 5Rhythms room, open to dancing with almost anyone there. People were very welcoming and willing to engage him. At that age, he would often wrap his arms around my ankles, laughing, and refuse to let go. This gave me a brand new dance; and I investigated every possible way to move with one leg stationary. I found an entirely different way to move my hips, and discovered a range of subtle movements I would not otherwise have found. Just as in life at the time, I chose to use a constraint (how some view having a child); and consider it an interesting element to work with to push me deeper. I exploded creatively; and despite the many times I had to put Simon’s needs first, his existence provided a framework that allowed me to grow in unexpected ways.
We were out of town the night before the July 5th class, and got on the road early to arrive in time to open the studio and get set up. Simon and I had been discussing the event for weeks beforehand. He was uncontainably excited; and dressed in his Spiderman costume, since it was a special occasion. The first class was taught by soon-to-be-official 5Rhythms teacher, Jason Goodman.
Jason had obviously given a lot of thought to how he would teach the class. He began with Flowing music without lyrics to give people time to settle in. Before long, he explained that the 5Rhthyms are a secret language that your parents know about, addressing the children. It is no less than the secret of how everything is, he shared. I am sure they took it in, but they were all very ready to move! Especially mine.
Simon’s friend, Hugo, joined us and the two of them raced around the perimeter of the dance, occasionally bumping into people. Hugo’s parents and I kept trying to engage them by picking them up, swinging them and making silly faces. Part of me was shrinking, wishing Simon wouldn’t be so wild and thinking I should try to control him. I kept trying to take a breath, move my attention to the whole room, but I was overly focused on him, feeling slightly disapproving.
One of Jason’s choices for music during the rhythm of Chaos, The Gummy Bear Song, brought the house down. Everyone (including Simon and Hugo) wore a giant smile and danced emphatically and energetically.
A good friend, mentor, and the dancer who introduced me to the 5Rhythms came with her ten-year-old daughter. They were both wholehearted and joyful, and the ten-year-old moved around the room, engaging every child. She has also agreed to act as a consultant for the Family Waves class; and has offered many excellent ideas to help create an event that appeals to a range of ages.
As I reflected, I had to keep reminding myself that it was perfect and appropriate that Simon was racing around like a maniac. That is really WHY I have been willing to take this on—to help him keep the joyful embodiment that he has now. The task is to learn to layer embodied awareness on top of that. I also realized that I have to let go of trying to control him and of trying to control the situation. I have so many hang-ups myself (as I have written about in many previous posts) about being too energetically gigantic, of taking up too much space. He is a little kid—he should take up exactly the amount of space he needs. I think in the next class, I will explain that he can’t touch anyone unless he looks in their eyes first, and can’t bump anyone, but that other than that he is free to move how he wants to.
I feel very thankful as I write this. To Jason for his generous instruction; To Tammy for her kind support; to Gabrielle Roth for her vast vision and for articulating the 5Rhythms; to all of the joyful bodies who attended; and for my spectacular son, Simon, who, like all children, deserves to grow up happy, embodied and heartful; and who deserves every opportunity to dance his absolutely perfect, this-is-my-truth-now, unique, wild and precious dance.
Family Waves, a 5Rhythms class for kids and their grown ups, meets the first Saturday of each month at White Wave Studio in Dumbo, Brooklyn, from 10.45 AM-noon. The next class will be taught by teacher-in-training Alex de Willermin and will meet on August 2nd.
by meghanleborious | Jun 30, 2014 | Notes on Practice
June 28, 2014
This blog consists of my own subjective experiences on the 5Rhythms® dancing path, and are not sanctioned by any 5Rhythms® organization or teacher.
Kiera taught in Tammy’s stead on Friday. I loved her comments on Stillness in particular—that in Stillness, ingrained patterns or ways of moving rise up as a repetition, then fall away again. Although I have heard this teaching before, somehow she enhanced my understanding of Stillness. I have often been confused by instruction about making shapes with my body. Thinking about letting movements rise up changes the directionality. Instead of me imposing something on my body, I am letting it tell me and the world a secret about my unconscious life. This is much better aligned with how I actually experience Stillness.
On a totally different note, something lead me to visit a book I wrote about a trip to the Dominican Republic in 2004, which I hadn’t read since I wrote it shortly after I returned to New York. In the book, I write about how after some time wandering, I found myself in a small vacation town, Las Terrenas, in the northern state of Semanà. There, I learned that many people had been dancing nearly every night for their entire lives. I met many cherished friends, including a master dancer named Nelson, who swept me away and became my mentor. In a short period of time, thanks to his empathy and input, I became competent with bachata, merengue and, to some extent, salsa. Toward the end of my time in Las Terrenas, he and I would break into dance any time we heard music, no matter where we were—on the beach, in the street, in the billiard parlor, in the local store. By the end of a night at the local discotequa, we would be sweat-drenched and exhausted. At the time, I was in a committed relationship, but the passion and affection with which we met each other on the dance floor surpassed many sexual encounters I have experienced.
Why am I writing this? Maybe it is just for the sheer love of living it again. Maybe because it has something to do with dance. Thank god I am dancing, thank god for 5Rhythms. If it weren’t for 5Rthythms and the people who have held space for it, I might have let dancing drift away, just as I lost contact with Nelson and with my Dominican friends. How can it be that ten years have passed since this life-changing trip, and how can it be that I have never pointedly asked myself how I could possibly fail to return?
I sit waiting to know if there is a strain here that has to do with the recent themes I have addressed in this blog. I can’t find a thread, though my eyes fill with tears, my throat wells, my heart grows swollen and I know there is something important for me to take in.
Kiera reminded us on Friday, “Gabrielle always used to say that the practice is really about what we do in our life—how we take it into the world.” Obviously, I need to visit the Dominican Republic as soon as possible; and I have spent the entire day trying to find a way to work with the strong emotions that have come up. There is gratitude—for having been blessed to live such a beautiful story, for my younger self who took the time to write this story I can now re-visit, like personal terma. There is nostalgia, for a younger version of myself, for a place that I will certainly find changed, for moments of un-hesitating, clean, boundless joy, even as I learned about the dark sides of the community that adopted me during my brief visit.
Grief is most cutting when I realize that I have missed a chance to love; and when I look into my heart after reading the book I wrote I find layers and layers of grief. Why didn’t I return every year, as I promised? Why have I not traveled with such a wide open heart, fearless and shining, since my trip to the Dominican Republic?
I love the man I spent the intervening time with, but when I look with unflinching honesty, I see that I grew into a constrained and smaller version of myself—one who cared very much about being in a stable relationship, even to the detriment of my mission to mine the entire world—including my own heart—for love. I have been too afraid of something vague—something unpromised and unrealized that falls apart even as I try to articulate it.
This, now, is the part of the practice that is life. Maybe, with the guidance of my heart and the blessing of practice, I can live the next ten years fearlessly, in service to love, without the useless constraints that I impose on myself.
by meghanleborious | Jun 23, 2014 | Notes on Practice
June 22, 2014
This blog consists of my own subjective experiences on the 5Rhythms® dancing path, and are not sanctioned by any 5Rhythms® organization or teacher.
Two posts ago I wrote about how I have worked with having aversion to someone in dance. In the last post I wrote about how I have worked with really wanting to dance with a particular person. This week, I have been thinking about the ways that I connect with people who I don’t necessarily have a strong response to.
Whether I connect right away or not, I often try to notice what part of my partner’s body is leading their dance, and put my attention on that part of my own body. Some people seem to move from the forearms, the shoulders, the top of the head, springs under the arches of the feet, the edges of the arc of the arms, the high part of the belly, the low part of the belly, the line that draws the jaw. An intuition about which part is guiding can help me to perceive key patterns in the way someone moves. Perhaps it is just in my head, but sometimes when I key into something, my partner brightens and gets more into our dance. Part of me hopes it can be a little gift—an acknowledgement that how they are is just right and I know it.
My own dance never leaves me, of course, but since my dance is always available, I don’t have to worry about insisting on it. I can afford to open up to completely to anything that comes. That is always my intention, at least. In fact, I have often meant to ask people if my dance looks radically different depending on who I am dancing with, since it feels completely different to me.
Along with seeing and connecting with my partner, there is another oblique benefit. In testing something new out, for example moving from the shoulders and twisting the plane of my body, I often find a way to move that I never would have discovered on my own. Streams of memory might open, I might find a new movement theme that I wind up investigating again and again, or I might just have a moment of delightful engagement and specificity.
When I am dancing by myself, I bring my friends into the room with me, suddenly realizing I am doing a piece of their dance. As I write this, I wonder if as my friends age and die, I will be able to keep them alive by moving like them—one friend’s happy knees that kick her heels sideways, another’s whoosh and rush from the heart and throat as he parts the seas of the room, another’s belly-low, hip-down birth story, yet another’s bouncing and coiling cadence coming right from the elbows.
Another thing I do when I am in partnership is try to catch my attention if it drifts. I sometimes borrow a practice from the Thai Buddhist master Thich-Nhat-Han. I look at my partner fully, saying to myself, “I see you there; and I am grateful for it.” Sometimes, it just takes a few minutes to arrive in one another’s orbit. Then we might wind up in an intimate, creative vignette. At other times, no matter what, the dance is disconnected and contrived.
Last week, Tammy gave a long, danced talk in the interlude between the two waves. She touched on a huge array of topics, almost seeming to be channeling. One thing she talked about was the idea that we are afraid to give all of ourselves. We are taught that giving everything, holding nothing back, is like going into the lion’s cage, where we might get torn to bits.
If it worked to hold back, if there was some benefit to it, I would be all for it. I have been thinking, though, that in 5Rhythms and in life, there is actually no point in holding anything back. It is not like something is saved for later-we are not saved for later, instead we are just wasted.
Yesterday, I attended a fortieth birthday party for a friend. Before the cutting of the cake, her husband made a generous toast to her. He spoke from the heart and sang her praises, telling her and everyone in attendance how much he loves her. It was very moving. There was no reluctance, no hesitation, no edge, no distancing sentimentality, no string, no qualifier—just this wholehearted acknowledgement of his wife’s gifts and of his love for her.
Writing this passage has been a little hard for me, since it has brought to mind the many times I have held myself back from loving fully and from being fully available to what is happening in a given moment. I have written about some of the things within my own practice that seem to help my heart to open the world; and to surrender the illusions that cause me to waste myself in holding back, fearing the lion’s cage.
