Category Archives: the dance

Dec30

2011

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Painting:  Pam White, from the Spirit Horse series.  This painting is FOR SALE.  Contact me here for details.

 

I have been contemplating the approaching new year.  2012 seems an oddly impossible number – something from a future that I have not achieved.

So I am going to look back at 2011 in an effort to bring myself up to speed with this new number.  Two things stand out in particular.  They are about practice and rooting.  I am using that word because of its developmental associations.  It is what an infant does when seeking the mother’s nipple.  Seeking nourishment, the font, the center.  That feels to me like what this year has mostly been about.  Bringing work into new focus.  Nourishing myself with the work.

This was the year that I started my blog.  It began as a piece of the puzzle of my book, Horse Dancing and quickly took on a life of its own.  The book is still seeking its publisher as the blog steadily threads its way through the digital palimpsest that it is the internet.   The blog has become a taproot of my creative practice.  It is where I start the day, and often where I end.  It is teaching more more about showing up, steadfastness and finding focus than almost anything else I have done.  I have been greatly helped and encouraged in my efforts by Jon Katz, Pam White,  Gwen Bell, and Ev Bogue.

This was also the year that I deepened my work with horses to include the Mustang Nelson.  Nelson was rescued from slaughter from one of the BLM’s ugly culls of wild horses that are decimating the herds of the West.  Working with a horse with no intention of riding or making him ready for any human use is something relatively new for me. It is completely about figuring out the steps to his dance for the purpose of making his life out of the wild more manageable for him and safe for his caregivers.  Nelson is my kindest and most patient teacher.

I began to develop  classes and writing for those who are interested in going deeper into improvisational practice.   Opening to new teaching opportunities in this way gives me a new kind of juiciness and flexibility.  Watch for links to other offerings that I find rare and exciting, like Jenna Woginrich’s webinars.

OK.  Now I feel ready to dive into 2012.  Tomorrow.

What has been the root of your year?

 

 

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Dec23

softness inside, softness outside

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Today was a strangely, deliciously balmy December day in the Hudson Valley.  I went to see Nelson (the formerly wild Mustang) with some holiday carrots. He was very cuddly from the beginning, seeming to echo the softness and quiet of the day. Have I mentioned that I love this horse?

I have been asking him to move around me in a small circle, while staying calm and responding to the “go” signal from my hand and the “whoa” signal from my movement and my voice.  Today he was flawless when circling to the right, still uncertain to the left.

So I played with that by asking him to stay with the hard side, to keep trying.  And here’s the lovely part:  he allowed me to improvise more freely with changes of direction and with different kinds of cues than ever before.  My hand, my body, the lead rope, the wand, nothing seemed to really phase him.  It was as if there had been a quantum shift in his tolerance for new information – his ability to take it in without being frightened.

Even after I opened the gate of his catch pen out into the six-acre field, he stayed with me – no halter, no lead rope – moving smoothly around me to the right, and doing his best in the other direction. No running off, no spooking.  He wanted to continue the dance.

Everything about my work with Nelson during the past eight months has been an improvisation.  But the movement vocabulary was very small, very careful.  Now, our language is suddenly expanding:  new options, different choices, greater flexibility. A reservoir of trust. This new softness is deepening, penetrating, lasting from week-to-week.

This expanding relationship reminds me of the comparison of meditating to dipping a cloth into dye. For the first 100 times, the color will rinse away, but slowly, surely, the color starts to take and deepen.

Dec20

a deadline & an elevator

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On December 24,  the price goes up for my class Breaking into Blossom: Moving into an Improvisational Life.  Right now the price for this 5-week class is $75.  On December 24, it goes up to $100.

I think that this is a wonderful gift to give someone you love – a terrific way to launch 2012.

I am excited about this class because it is where I am pulling together pretty much everything I have learned about embodiment and improvisation and how those two things can change the way you go about your daily life.

What I have observed is that for many of us there is a big commute between what we consider creative and “life.”  My belief is that everything can be lived creatively.  This class is intended to help you close the gap; to weave improvisation into the fabric of the ways you move, eat, work, play.

You don’t have to be an artist to enjoy this class.  That being said, it will spark the artist in you.  Twice a week for five weeks, I will be using writing, movement, brilliant guest posts, and specific strategies to help you close the gap and find a deeper creative engagement.

By the by, this class is not about horses.  However, if you are a rider, it will change how you approach that too.

If you have questions, shoot me a comment and I will answer.

Dec18

riding, dancing

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Photo:  Claire Glover;  Brandi Rivera riding Amadeo

Riding is the hardest thing that I do.  Physically.  Mentally.  Spiritually.

I am a dancer.  Riding is harder.  The intricacy, the communication, the balance, the nuance, the subtlety required in the riding arena are beyond anything I have experienced in a dance studio.  Martha Graham said that it takes ten years to make a dancer.  One of my first trainers, Beach Bennett, said that it takes at least two lifetimes to become a rider. She is right.

I have had to accept that despite my physical skills, my training and my understanding, I am going to need that second lifetime to become all that I want as a rider.  It is humbling. I welcome it.

I wrote yesterday about touching horses, and the way that brings me to my knees.  How I love it.  Riding is that way too.  Sitting in the saddle (my zafu) and finding the first rhythmic harmonics with my horse’s walk is like breathing. Or like stepping into the water, readying for a swim.  Being challenged to seek harmony, softness, clarity and balance throughout a riding lesson is like sitting with a tough Zen master.  Or like my yoga classes with Patricia Walden.  No tuning out, not ever, not for a moment.

The horse, you see, deserves nothing less than my very best.

Rigor and ecstasy.  Could there be anything better?