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Showing posts with the label bellydance

Poem: The Dissolution of the Dance

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Music warmed my heart from birth Born half-sized, and boxed. I heard it play, maybe a nurse And to its beat I rocked. It held me earthed until the time Someone came to claim me. Soothed to sleep by song and rhyme I rocked out where they laid me. Quickened by the radio I learnt to dance alone. Moving in staccato I felt myself at home. Music was a blanket Dancing was a hug. When I could make a racket It made my heart thud. I danced with belly dancers Then I learnt to teach. I leapt all night with ravers The goals I set were reached. Dancing was my joy The beating of my heart. My soul’s ecstatic toy My vocation and my art. But now I halt – with trepidation Aches, and grabs, and bites. Patella, in disintegration A new knee-cap in sight. The dancer flops upon the edge Of cavernous despair. In the next life , is her pledge While writer holds her by her hair. Change is how things come to be It breaks us into parts. And in my soul I’ve always known The word would be my art. My restless, pacing

Memoir, Voice, and Knowing Thyself.

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I must pause a moment, from editing my memoir, to reflect on the art of memoir itself. I'm in the fourth year of active focus on my memoir. But of course, fragments of it have existed for many more years than that. I wrote, had professionally edited, and self-published, my first two books in the space of five years; yet the third book has dawdled. At times, I didn't touch it for months. I wonder why it's dragged its feet so much? When I ponder this question, I find myself looking at the self-reflection aspect of memoir. Not just that; it's the articulation of self into an organised line. For that to occur, a clear concept of self must be attained.  My sense of self was fragmented by trauma; which means that in order to finish the memoir, I needed to heal.  Coupled with that, for eight years, my home life was plagued with triggers that stole countless writing days from me. During this time I was also teaching dance, which – although it funded my writing education – was m

Appreciating Restful Moments

Life still feels fresh and new, as I settle into my new home. Physically, it was an agonising move. I'm still feeling the effects six weeks later. I've had to moderate my energy to a lethargic pace, which isn't easy when I'm excited about a new home and wanting to get everything unboxed and nailed up.  Being high-strung is pretty normal for me, which is why I need dance in my life; but at its extreme, high-strung becomes tendonitis. When it gets bad enough, enough gentle stretching can be aggravating. So for the last week I've been sitting around with a heat pack trying to limit my steps. I went for my first walk in six days today, and my knee was dicey after fifteen minutes. So I'm back in my chair with a heat pack for the rest of the day. This might sound like a delicious Saturday afternoon, but for me it's not easy.  My model of multidimensional consciousness shows us that when basic dimensions of consciousness like the physical and emotional dimensions

Moving Between Ground and Sky.

Eight years ago I started this blog with a post about my introduction to  apartment life . Now I'm standing on the cusp between two lives, as I prepare to move home again in ten day's time. Anyone familiar with my journey will know that living in my current home hasn't been easy. It has however been a succinct teacher, illuminating me to the most difficult aspects of my own nature; parts of me that had disappeared into the background as white noise, barely audible under the cacophony of the external dramas in my life. As the fallout from my second divorce slowly—too slowly—ebbed away, I began to realise that the angry situations invoked by my marriages were just tips of the tongues of angry flames that went way back in time. I was left with myself, intolerant and angry—triggered by the sounds around me.  Although it has been a difficult environment to live in, I feel like I've been through a major period of personal and creative development. When I moved here I was focu

A Hopeful Spring Equinox of Peace and Planning

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The world has grown noisier since Melbourne's long lockdown began. It shouldn't—the roads are generally more quiet. But major railway construction is taking place a few blocks away, diverting traffic up my street; bringing more noise into my world. Another growth opportunity—yay! Sensitivity to noise is one of my more visible anxiety symptoms. It's visible by my posts on social media, by my hands over my ears as loud cars drive by, and by the 'conversations' I've had with my neighbour over their distressed dog. Otherwise, I keep these signs to myself; mostly anyway. Social sensitivity is another. I take on people's stuff too much and allow it to affect my sense of peace. Not as much as I used to—I'm more aware now! But enough that social interactions can sometimes leave me overstimulated or exhausted. So the social isolation of being in lockdown isn't as unpleasant as it could be. And besides—people are pretty passionate at the moment! I'm replen

Memoir Midpoint Brain-Freeze - Acceptance and the Creative Process

For two years, I've been toiling away at my third book — a memoir. I have a long draft that I'm wrangling, shaving, plucking and cutting into a series of hopefully sensible, temporally correct chapters. This isn't my first 'rodeo,' so when I got to chapter thirty-three — and froze — I had a pretty good idea what was going on: I was caught in knots at the mid-point. Events swirled around me, from my own memory — yet I could no longer pin these snakes down onto the page in lines that aligned in time.  So I realised it was time to stop. There's no resisting it. You know what they say: if you have to force it, it's probably s#@t. So the remedy is: acceptance. Go with it. The creative process is a moody beast that must be fed and nourished correctly. It eats brain food, and is picky. One day it likes to eat memoir, swearing it wants to eat memoir every single day. Then suddenly, without warning, the brain wants to eat an episode of Big Bang Theory; or a copy of t

If You Believe in Someone, Tell Them.

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This post is dedicated to the women who have helped me to step towards my potential. These women believed in me when I was unable to do it for myself. I try to pay it forward to my students and friends.   As I prepare my return to teaching in 2021, I'm pausing to reflect on how I came to step into the role in the first place. I always knew I would be a writer, but my role as teacher was a surprise to me. So how did it happen? Compared to many dancers I was a late bloomer, attending my first dance class at the age of twenty-five. A year or so later my teacher asked me to teach a class of beginner dancers. I was gobsmacked. Why on earth would she pick me to teach? I'd never taught anyone anything.  Although I didn't believe in myself, I did believe in my teacher. It wasn't the first time she had invited me to step out of my comfort zone. Twice each year she would run fabulously staged dance concerts. As well as dancing, I had been invited to read tarot at these concerts.

Blog Burnout

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A break from blogging wasn't part of the plan for April. Screen burnout is a thing and I had it. I may still have it. But there are a few exciting things I need to talk about this week. This term of Majickal Bellydance includes choreography. I have enjoyed writing a new spiritual dance to share with the class. I have also revised an old favourite, one that makes me smile. I hope it makes the dancers of Seville smile too. I'm really pleased that class begins again this Thursday 19th April. Writers' group begins again at Seville Community House this Wednesday 18th April. This group is run by crime-fiction author Debra Marks. Debra will also be joining me at Seville Community House for an author talk on Sunday 29th April.  Together, we will be sharing our experience with self-publishing and starting a writing business. Bring along your questions and fears about self-publishing. We don't know everything, but we are well on our way and love to talk with interested w

Autumn News 2018

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Hi All 😀 As we make our descent toward the colder seasons I'm aware that part of me is looking forward to more time indoors being creative. I usually dread the cold of winter, but this year life is looking brighter. Creatively, there's a lot to do and it's getting easier to do it.  I'm better able to leave the past behind me and get on with my days. During the summer just gone I even managed to balance a term of dance classes with my writing life. Bellydance Classes Thursday night dance class has been a personal tradition since my early dance class days. It's a life affirming practice that helps to undo the hours spent sitting at computer and notebook. Majickal Bellydance is more than exercise, it's like a moving meditation. The benefits are spiritual as well as physical and mental. I'll be teaching a new term of classes at Seville Community house from April 19. Details HERE . On the topic of life balance: Due to anxiety and PTSD, I have had to

The Esoteric Meaning of Coming 7 Circles Workshop

I am preparing for an afternoon of gentle, casual, lounge-worthy bellydance in a toasty warm and homey Healesville yoga studio.  The last six years of my dance journey has turned my attention toward the inner realms of the dance of life.    Your gift from the underworld of my experience is improved understanding of blocks that can distract energy away from otherwise well executed dance movements. Often these blocks exist on levels that are non-physical in origin; hence no amount of dance drills can loosen these energies until they are understood at their own level of reality.  I have found that it is not always possible or appropriate to remove physical blocks for various reasons. Dancers will work within the boundaries of their own body, gently coaxing energy into fluidty only as comfortable and safe. This means Majickal Bellydance is suitable for all levels of fitness. I have developed the Seven Circles Workshop to initiate awareness of the multidimensional experience of the da