Overcoming Mother Effin' Plateaus

"Going through life is like climbing a mountain." Yeah. Cliche and totally unoriginal, but true. For most of us that make the decision to climb upwards towards something unknown, the journey is riddlled with accomplishments, setbacks, achievements and.....plateaus.

Mother effing plateaus.

Plateaus are almost worst than setbacks. Setbacks are something tangible that we can walk up to, pause, point at and say "Hey, you're a setback, but because I can see you very clearly in front of me, I shall just kick you out of my way." Some setbacks are larger than others and may require more than a simple re-routing, toe kick or leap. When we come across obstacles in our path, like boulders, they demand that we roll up our sleeves, dig in our heels and push. Once we've moved that boulder and can feel the sweat of accomplishment running down our backs, there is a satisfaction that soon follows.

But plateaus are different. They're like heavy set in fog or standing on the edge of an abyss and wondering what the hell is on the other side. They can creep up at any time and are typically accompanied by self doubt, worry and confusion.

And they can crop up at any time. You've just scaled a hill that is steeper than 45 degrees, running, with a small llama and kitchen sink on your back, you've transcended this momentous journey when all of a sudden....plateau. Shit. You drop the llama and wonder why the hell you had a kitchen sink on your back, all the while standing still and thinking "Duh? how did I get here?"

Plateaus are dangerous places. They're more dangerous than cliffs or ravines or large boulders because they come at you after a moment of incredible achievement and success. They're dangerous because they can very easily shift you into the head space of "Well, I've had a good run so far, I guess this is a sign that I should turn back and go down again."

And that is where plateaus are dangerous. You either hang out on one for a while or you turn around and go back in the direction you've just come from, undoing all of your llama carrying hard work.

Plateaus are where the real heel digging begins. They're the spot where your courage and strength are truly tested. It's on this plateau where you really have to examine what you want and where you want to go. You could have made it up the mountain being chased by a bear and when you finally managed to get away from the bear, you are elated. But you don't know how to continue without something chasing you or propelling you forward like baseless emotions such as anger, disdain or pride.

Plateaus are lonely places where our stuff is really tested. It's where the emotion of the journey sets in. It's like the day after a wedding or a huge victory and the question that pops into your mind is "Now what?"

And man can that be a dark place. "But I've done so well up to now! Why am I stuck here? Why do I feel like I am being held from going forward?" I believe the answer to this lies inside of us and that plateaus come from the deep dark places in our hearts that either haven't been healed or haven't been addressed in a real and meaningful way.

I recently hit a plateau where I looked around and said "Ok. I've come far enough. Time to retreat. I don't want to push forward. It's too hard and it takes too much out of me." I didn't want to move. As a person very dear to me put it, I had momentarily lost my "spark". I didn't want to do anything. I continued to work out, not because I wanted to, but because I'd already paid for the classes and figured that I should. I felt helpless and like I was at the mercy of the things around me, with no choice or control. Yep. It was one of those plateaus. Deep dark and ugly.

So I had to make a choice and I knew it. Would I just lay down or turn back and go the direction I just came from? Would I go back to the things in my past that brought me so much misery and pain? Would I dare undo the things that I had worked so hard for because it had become too hard? Did I care? Did I honestly care? And what scared me was that my immediate answer was that I didn't care.

And once I realized that I didn't care, I knew that was the spot on the plateau that I had to dig in my heels. I'd found it. I realized that it didn't matter that I didn't care at that moment. I would care in the future and I would be sorry for turning back in any way, shape or form. So I dug in my heels and pushed up with all my strength and discovered that I wasn't on a plateau anymore, but at the base of a hill that I could look up and see a beautiful destination at the top and all I had to do was put one foot in front of the other and keep on moving.

Paradigm Shift - Healthy & Strong

Body image. Ugh. The double whammy of feminine existance. Our bodies, how we perceive them, what they do for us and how they exist in the world. And image; how we perceive ourselves, how we perceive others perceive us and what we put out into the world.

I, like most women, have struggled with body image issues for most of my life. For varying reasons that are unimportant and with varying consequences that are irrelevant. There have been people that have lifted me up and there have been people who have cut me down: also irrelevant. There have been times in my life where the good opinion of others has been so crucial, I would do anything for their good opinion, even at the detriment of myself.

I say these things without blame, shame or guilt. Just an acknowledgement that this has been the truth for me for a very long time.  I always obsessed about my weight. My weight was the barometer of happiness in my life. If I was unhappy, I was chubby. If I was happy, I was slim. None of my accomplishments mattered. In Junior high, having a 92% percent grade point average didn't matter, in high school, being a musician and in 5 choirs was no big deal, putting myself through university, building a successful dance studio and making lots of friends didn't hold a candle to this one truth: I was fat.

My story is not unique, which is unfortunate. There are legions of beautiful, talented and vibrant women who move mountains and rule the world, but get sideswiped by body image issues and fear of the most dreaded consequence imaginable: being fat. Because of this, they get sucked into toxic relationships that only perpetuate their value system of being worthless. There is no shame in that. It happens. Lots of women get sucked into a world where they give too much in hopes that they will get some of it back.

And here is where the paradigm shift becomes important. It has come time to shift the truth.

A few weeks ago, it occurred to me that all of the energy I was spending obsessing about my weight, my disappointment in myself and my own self worth was entirely misplaced. I couldn't believe that I was allowing a number on the scale dictate whether or not I was successful or lovable or had any value. At first there was incredible shame at that. How could I do that to myself? What was wrong with me? And then a softer voice spoke up and reassured me that I was normal, but that there was something I could do about it.

At varying times in my life, my internal strength and my external strength have been in opposition. When I was strong inside, my physical body was weak and when I was strong on the outside, my insides were weak. So I made the decision that I wanted my insides and my outsides to come together and with their powers combined make one badass babe that I am proud to be.

I got rid of my scale. It was hard. It was really really hard. It still is.

Then I decided to do something different, something I never in a million years thought I could do. I started to run. I was always the chubby kid in school that would get the blue participation badge in school that said "hey, thanks for coming out.", so imagine my surprise when I discovered the amazing truth about myself: I am strong enough to run.

At first I was amazed and shocked. Then this deep burning fire ignited inside of me and I knew that running was the answer. The way my feet hit the pavement, daring it to fight back against the strength of my steps, the way my heart pulsed and my muscles burned as I pushed them further. Never in my life did I ever think I could be a runner. So as I pushed on and ran longer and faster, I would reach a point where tears would start to come and I would run harder and push faster because I knew I  had reached the point inside myself where I was getting rid of old beliefs and old patterns and treading new ground.

I'm not expert. I haven't woken up one day and suddenly become enlightened and "cured". I'm not a sword wielding ninja of self esteem. Yet. I am embarking on a journey of moving past and releasing a lifetime of self-perpetuation and limitations. But the one thing I do know is that when my running shoes are on and I am panting with sweat pouring into my bra, I am not running away from anything. I am moving towards my future of being healthy and strong and there is no one in this world that can stop me, cut me down or slow my pace. I am flexing new muscles I'v enever used before. There will be times when they are weary and need a rest and that's ok, because I've made the committment to myself to start the journey.

A Step to the back, A Step to the front

I've been involved in Middle Eastern dance for what will be 11 years this fall. I have been a student, teacher performer and I continue to be a student of this glorious art form. However, sometimes when we do something for a long time, we don't recognize the value that it brings to our lives or even it becomes "normal" to us. Don't get me wrong, I feel blessed and very special to do what I do for a living. But sometimes we need a little jolt to inspire us and take us to the next level of being.

This little jolt happened to me exactly a week ago. I was going through a very difficult time personally and had the choice of either sitting at home being sad or going out and doing something I had wanted to do for the last 3 years. There is a bar near my house called On the Rocks. Every Thursday night they host a salsa night. Despite my many years in dance, I had never tried salsa and only really learned the basic foot pattern in a zumba class from one of my instructors.

But I felt this pull. This incredible pull. Due to my life circumstances, I hadn't felt comfortable going to salsa night on my own before. But this night was different. This night I needed to break away and own my own life. I wanted to take it back and do something for me. As a teacher, a lot of what I do is for my students, who are my life blood. But I needed something that was strictly for the nourishment of my own soul.

I managed to wrangle a good friend to come along with me. As we were standing in the line up outside waiting to get in, I could feel my body start to buzz. My hands were tingling. My legs were vibrating. My head was spinning as I was looking around at all of the beautiful men and women that had piled into the club and were dancing.

The door man gave me a bit of a hard time, which my friend later identified as flirting. I think he could see how excited I was and wanted to taunt me a bit. When we finally stepped inside the club, the music took me over. I felt instantly like I was transported to Havana. People of all backgrounds moved around to this glorious soul shaking music that made my blood hum and my heart pulse.

I walked up to the dance floor and before I knew what was happening, a very large Cuban man had asked me to dance and was spinning me around the floor. I begged forgiveness as I didn't know how to salsa and it was my first time, but I just followed along. Followed. A first for me. I don't follow anyone in dance and it was a glorious moment to surrender to a man who could lead me and knew what he was doing.

Once the dance was over, there was a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder and we went our separate ways. Really? No leching? No asking for my number? Or trying to grab me? It was exhilerating! We parted ways with a mutual respect and found other partners. Before I knew it, I was being asked to dance and was being passed around the dance floor. I could feel a slick river of sweat running down my back and I loved the sensation of it because I knew it meant that I was being baptised in the river of Salsa.

As the night progressed I learned that it was typical etiquette for a man to ask you to dance and that most of the time you said yes, unless you got a super creepy vibe. I was approached by a young man who I thought was Cuban and wearing a baggy scruffy t-shirt and jeans. He was about my height. He asked me to dance. I was a bit unsure, but I thought why not?

When he grabbed my hands and started leading me on the dance floor, I almost fell over in shock. He was so strong and so sure in his movements. His appearance hadn't matched his dance ability. I felt immediately humbled by this acknowledgement and proceded to thoroughly enjoy myself. I told him that I didn't have much experience with Salsa and I apologized for my awkwardness. He smiled and said some very simple and impactful words, "It's just a step to the back and a step to the front."

That sentence that took him only a moment to say rang true throughout my body. It was like he had taken my entire life experience and placed it in a few short and simple words. My head started to swim and it took me a moment to really concentrate on what was happening. Some simple steps, made more complex by your own ability and experience or remaining simple and stylish. Close or far apart. Didn't matter. It was all just a step to the back and step to the front.

After this I took a little break from dancing and grabbed a drink, chatting with my friend. When out of the blue, another friend of mine popped out of no where. A friend who had stopped by my dance studio only days earlier and had chatted business with. There she was! A kindred spirit! Someone who I had always felt an instant emotional connection with.

She introduced me to some people and before long I was watching some very experienced salsa dancers dominate the floor. I was speechlees. I only wanted to watch them. I felt by watching them I was sharing in this incredibly intimate and beautiful moment that only lasted a song, but was intoxicating in its sensuality.

As I was watching, I spotted a small and very beautiful Latin woman dancing with a partner. The way she moved, her hair, her confidence, the surety of her footwork seized me and made it impossible to look away. The sway of her hips and the smile on her face. It was like poetry. Very sexy poetry. And I realized that salsa was about that experience. The coming together of men and women for the pure joy of dancing and getting rid of the frustrations and limitations of their lives. That for that moment while the song played, they were free. Their bodies did the talking their lips could not or would not allow.

I continued to watch some of the dancing. I felt like Baby in Dirty Dancing when she first sees Patrick Swayze grinding in the night club. I felt so innocent and naive and yet so hungry to learn more and experience the dance for myself. In that moment I knew that salsa was going to be my salvation. Salsa was going to allow my heart to bleed in a way that my own lips could not speak and my own tears could not accomplish. No measure of tears could release the tension and anxiety I was feeling or fill my soul the way that hip shaking rhythm and those soul freeing steps could. The mere observation of the beauty and freedom that accompanied this dance was enough to make me want to hook it up to my arm through an IV and be an addict for life.

I was always afraid to try salsa and now I know why. I wasn't ready for it. Somehow my soul knew what it would mean to me. Somehow my soul knew that it would change me and it wasn't going to let me try it until I was ready to welcome it into my life like a secret lover who had been waiting for me in the background my whole life. I had to let it in without fear of being untrue to my partner by dancing with another man. I had to let it in without fear of judgement or failure, from a place of humility as a beginner.  And I had to let it in so that my soul could move to the next level and the next chapter of my life.

Comparing women, comparing bodies = losing game

Reading a recent blog on a topic that I find to be quite distasteful has inspired me to write my own thoughts on the subject: The recent facebook phenomena of posting pictures that praise bigger/curvier girls at the sake "skinny women" or that demean women who aren't.

About 3 months ago, a larger lady that I know posted a picture of a beautiful curvy woman on  her wall. However, the caption on the picture said something to the effect of "Men prefer curvy women b/c skinny women are like twigs they can snap." I found this highly offensive. But why? I'm a curvy woman. I grew up being called fat, lard ass, Oprah butt, thunder thighs and the most creative joke that people could come up for me was "What are you going to do, sit on me?" Mostly by skinny girls or boys. So wouldn't you think that of all people I would be cheering and saying "Yeah! To hell with you skinny bitches! Men like me better!"

FUCK NO.

In fact, I find this kind of thought process to not only be demeaning of ALL women, but to be incredibly divisive amongst women. And to be incredibly reflective of how fucked up our culture is. The REAL question that we need to be asking is "Why do we care whether or not men like skinny or curvey women?" and "Why do we as women monitor our own self worth and value based upon what men want us to be?"

Now, first of all, it is not my intent to male-bash. I know lots of lovely men that exist with this messed up, sexually frustrated, sexually deprived society that we live in. The target of my fury is why we even care in the first place. Do men post pictures of skinny men and fat men to compare and support their own obesity problems? Or make themselves feel better? They sure don't. And why is that? Because we exist in a society where women are raised to accept men as they are but to not accept themselves.

Not only do we not accept ourselves, but then we look to our beautiful sisters in this world and judge them based on their weight and beauty. We pass value judgements on ourselves based on our weight and then we pass those same judgements onto our friends, family and strangers. What is even more astounding is we then ask the question "Why does society force us to think we need to be a certain way?"

WE ARE SOCIETY. Time to stop being a passive participant in the world ladies and gents and to recognize that we shape our own reality, literally. If we do not want women's bodies to be the barometer of our culture (which they are), then we need to stop buying into it. It only exists because we allow it to exist.

Which takes me back to this whole comparing women thing. Many years ago my brother met this beautiful women in Australia, who is from the Netherlands, when he was travelling there. He brought her home to Canada. This woman is someone who I both admire and respect. However, she is also incredibly slim. Naturally. She is who she is, yet, has been targeted by incredibly mean spirited people who insist she has an eating disorder. She accepts all those around her, never passes judgement and is wise beyond reckoning. And yet, she is dimeaned by other women as being too skinny.

My brother has now married this lovely human being and they have a beautiful family of 2 girls and a boy. And she is still slim. Naturally. Witnessing my sister-in-law's struggle with people judging her weight really made me appreciate how hurtful comments about skinny or slim women really are. And it really pisses me off.

Fast forward to owning a belly dance studio. I am honoured and astounded by the incredible trust that my students place in me. Old. Young. Average. Fat. Thin. Medium. Tall. Short. I look at these women and their incredible courage at just showing up and using their bodies as an instrument of movement. The most shocking moment for me as a teacher of such beautiful women was when I realized that no matter what a woman looks like WE ALL HATE OUR BODIES.

And that really chafes my ass. BIG TIME.

And guess what ladies? Guess whose fault it is? OURS. Not the media, although they contribute to it. Not men, although they also contribute ot it. Not our parents, no matter how fucked up they were. Not the kids at school that called us names. At the end of the day, it is our fault that we are in the position we are in as women because we:
-undermine our friends and ourselves based on weight and appearance.
-allow ourselves to be made a spectacle of.
-don't demand better for ourselves and our daughters.
-use sexuality as a way of getting what we want and then resent the outcome of this approach.
-don't build each other up as sisters and allies.
-take pleasure in watching other women fail or suffer because it's better than it happening to us.

Let's face is ladies. We need a change. The way we interact needs a serious overhaul and it can start with something as simple as our language. Let's stop trying to judge each other based on weight. Or feeling better because someone else is miserable or suffering. We are perpetuating our own self esteem problems by engaging in this type of toxic behaviour. And then to make matters worse, we expect men to make up for it with gifts and compliments.

I'm getting really tired of these toxic and ridiculous facebook posts. I challenge you to post pictures of women of all sizes and praise your fellow sisters for their beauty at being who they are! THAT is where we start to effect change. That is how we can begin to create a healthy society that we are proud to raise our daughters in.

Las Vegas Series - Special Moments

Through the almost week I was in Vegas, there were several special moments for me that warrant mentioning.

1. My students Julie and Monica were in attendance.
There was something really special about having Julie and Monica in Vegas with me. We did not take all of the same workshops or spend every waking moment together. But as a teacher, I was so excited for them to have the opportunity to experience such masters of instruction. And to see the incredible performances. And to bear witness to special moments of their own which cannot be captured on DVD. And to drink terribly cheap wine with Julie.

The other aspect of this experience was knowing that they were both seeing the festival with fresh eyes. They had no pre-conceived notions of anything. They didn't know who was who or worry about behaving in a certain way. They were just there to freely learn and absorb the environment they were in and that was so exciting as a teacher to know they were experiencing.

2. Sharing the Festival with Former Troup Mate & friend Adriana
Adriana and I have been through a lot together in dance. We generally think on the same wavelength when it comes to dancing. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. We choreographed pieces together.  It was incredibly special to be able to share workshops and ideas. All sorts of ideas began to flow as we experienced workshops and talked.

3. Watching Ruby and Delilah goofing off to live music from House of Tarab drum god Erik Brown
This is what makes festivals and travelling to workshops. All of the little things that happen that would never happen if you purchased the DVD. The memorable things. The things that matter. Watching two incredibly accomplished dancers just goofing off and having fun together with music. Even more impactful was looking across the room and seeing Julie watch this and knowing that she doesn't realize that seeing things like this are rare.

I find that workshops in home cities tend to be very stiff. Very rarely have I gone to a workshop in Edmonton or Calgary where the imported talent ate lunch with the workshop participants or engaged them on any sort of personal level. Aziza was a notable exception to this. But usually, they keep their distance, which I think it unfortunate.

The beauty with Vegas is that at one moment you could be taking a workshop with Ahava and the next she could be standing right next to you taking another workshop herself. There was lots of opportunity to interact with talented dancers on a real and personal level.

4. Sade's music in Ariellah's class
I had the distinct privelege with being raised in a home where there was music everywhere and all the time. My mother used to sing but while my friends grew up on country, I grew up listening to Peabo Bryson, Luther Vandross, Aretha Franklin, Patti Labelle, Mariah Carey and more.

My older sister also had (and still has) an incredible ear for music and I found my own tastes heavily influenced by what she listened to at home. One of the most special artists she ever played was Sade. Such a musical and soulful voice. And my sister's favourite.

So imagine my surprise that while in Ariellah's class, which artist randomly pops into her playlist? Why, Sade. And in that moment it was an instant marriage of my childhood love for music and my adulthood exploration and journey into dance where I am blessed to have the opportunity to try and translate music into movement.

5. Responding to bitchiness w/ indifference
With the good also comes the bad, and while I do not want to dwell on it, I would merely like to tip my hat to it and thank it for the life lesson. On the last night at the cocktail wrap up party, Adriana and I were running late. But it's cocktails and everything with cocktails starts an hour later. We arrived and sure enough, people were enjoying themselves conversing (although we missed Elvis. Boo).

I saw Julie and Monica sitting at a table and went over to them. There were two chairs left at the table, but they were on opposite sides of the table (which was round). I asked the ladies to the right of my students if they would mind moving down one chair so that we could sit together. The one lady loudly and rudely proclaimed "NO." I was really taken aback by this very loud and harsh response. I looked and Julie who shrugged in disbelief. The ladies on the other side of the table (who I later found out were Canadians), offered to move over one seat. We were very grateful for their act of courtesy.

Later Julie (who was totally flabbergasted) informed me that the negative Nancies had asked Julie and Monica if they could sit at the table with them and Julie and Monica of course said yes. My only real emotional response to these women was pity. Which felt like real personal growth. Haha. In the past, I probably would have gotten angry and spent the evening glaring at them. Something weird took place inside of me. I felt pity and compassion for these women....because it dawned on me that their lives must be pretty horrible if they could not find it in themselves to move one chair to share an experience with a sister in dance. And here we are, after 4 gruelling days of dancing and workshops, where we are in this together, and basic kindness is elusive and out of reach?

Kindness doesn't cost us anything. In fact, kindness lifts us up and nourishes our own souls. In a round about way, this experience felt like real personal growth and was worth mentioning because of it. I'm not upset with them, I'm happy at my response! lol. Maybe it was the incredible bonding that takes place when you are with a group of women who are working hard and pushing through their own plateaus that builds comradery? Or maybe it's the fact that you are out of your home base, where all ties and expectations are gone. But there is a link that exists and it's pretty amazing to experience.

Whatever else it may be, Vegas is a very special place to visit and if you go no where else, save up your pennies and go to the Vegas Belly Dance Intensive.

Vegas Series - Ariellah and Artist Expression

There really couldn't be anyone better to teach Dance artistry than Ariellah. While I am not particularily interested in Goth Fusion, Ariellah's talent and beauty transcends genre and is breathtakingly expressed as she teaches and dances. If you have not had the pleasure to see her perform live, you are missing out. Video cannot possibly capture the exchange of soul that occurs between an audience and dancer.

With the delightful exception of Tania Wee and Ariellah, I've always thought goth belly dance to be super emo and way too intense (similarily to priestess worship belly dance). It reminds me of being a teenager writing twisted poems about night and roses and being misunderstood. However, Ariellah is far from emo. Her costume and music choices are more industrial, but as she translates the music through movement as if making the unacknowledged seem understandable.

What Ariellah possesses is a beautifully intense strength and vulnerability. At one moment the stage is furiously beaten by her feet, the next, her arms fold in to reveal a tender spirit looking for acceptance. When Ariellah dances, she tells a story. A beautiful and melodic story that has a beginning, a conflict, a climax and a conclusion....like a conversation.

So who better to communicate the art of artistry in dance? Too often, myself included, I see dancers too caught up in themselves and the movement to truly express and communicate with the audience. When we have a conversation, do we plaster on a big fake smile and proclaim we are hip-happy to be there while our partner in conversation is mourning the loss of their beloved pet rabbit?

Conversations don't work like that. And neither should performance. In music, there are many terms for change in mood; "dimuendo, crescendo" are just a couple of those moods. The art in artistry is creating a conversation and making a statement or having intention in the thing we are doing. So next time you perform, think about having a conversation with your audience. Allow them to respond to you. I know that's what I intend to do.

Aging Gracefully - Thanks for another year

I know some of you will laugh when you see that I am writing about age, as I am only 28 years old. But I really felt inspired to write about age and aging by watching a segment on Rachel Ray about a book on concquering your life after 40, instead of living in regret.

I love the fact that the culture around women and aging is starting to change. The adage has always been that men turn into studs as they get older and that women, well, turn into men as they age. I love the "positively ageless" ad campaigns, instead of the "anti-aging" campaigns.

My 29th birthday is in 1 week, with my greatest disappointment being that it is not my 30th birthday! I am so excited about the idea of turning 30. And as a 28 year woman, I look at so many of the 40+ year old women I know and think "Wow! 40 looks amazing!!" There's something so strong and confident and special about women as they age. I admire that strength. I look at 50s and 60s and then on and can't help but admire the dignity and class those women seem to possess.
I love that as women we are demanding to be recognized as more than just old and worn out, no matter what our age may be. I love the fact that women are dating younger men. I love that women aren't being forced to dress like matrons past the age of 40. Or wear poodle hair cuts. Or stop talking about sex after 60. Age is such a beautiful gift we are given. With age comes wisdom, knowledge and the understanding that we are here on this earth for more than just ourselves.

So cheers to all you fabulous ladies young and old and remember that for every woman that turns 50, there are five 20-somethings wishing they had that kind of confidence and certainty.

Vegas Series - Jazz Fingers and Ballet Toes

Dear Belly Dancers,

One of the most  repeated messages throughout the whole weekend of workshops in Vegas was the importance of having a firm grasp on the basics of dance vocabulary provided by ballet and jazz. From Ariellah to Cassandra Shore to Delilah to Deb Rubin to Ruby, these world class instructors lauded the importance of having a solid basic understanding of Jazz and Ballet movements.

I have heard arguments that a ballet dancer wouldn't research belly dance to become a master in her craft, so why should a belly dancer research ballet? Modern Oriental dance is incredibly heavily influenced by jazz and ballet. In fact, most of us perform jazz or ballet movements and footwork without even knowing it.

One of the problems as I see it for Belly Dancers is that Ballet isn't typically an inclusionary dance. In fact, it is a exclusive dance for dancers who are exclusively a certain body type and shape. Which is entirely contrary to Belly Dance.

I'm not suggesting (and neither were the incredible masters I studied with) that you go out and try to become a ballerina or buy a tutu and point shoes. But learning the basics of ballet and jazz will improve your own dancing in terms beyond explanation.

This is why I am offering jazz and ballet classes at my studio. My vision is to offer classes to create the best dancers possible through yoga, pilates, jazz, ballet and other training. Even if it's only one class, adding a bit of jazz hands and some pointed toes to your repetoire will benefit you as a dancer.

Viva Las Vegas!

Oh my god! I'm back from Vegas! And I gotta blog about it STAT before I forget all of the wonderful, fabulous, amazing, delicious fantastic things that I have been thinking about and can't wait to share with all of you!

In super cheesey fashion, I learned more than new moves and combos....I learned a lot about myself as a human being existing in this mortal coil, honoured to be a part of this phenomenon of Belly Dance and the grace of being amongst some of the most incredible instructors in the world. I will be writing a series of blog entries describing my experiences and what I learned.

Some of the highlights:
-Ariellah - hugely impacted by Ariellah. What a talent. *le sigh*
-Frank Ferrinero - like your best girlfriend rolled up into a yummy fabulous insanely talented dance package.
-That teaching is as much about creating a dialogue and connection as performing is.
-Double. Veil. Enough. Said.
-Rom Deussen - a clever and intelligent Rom woman sharing her beautiful culture and dance
-Deb Ruben - Can I say wowza?
-Ruby Beh - probably one of my favourites. Her style and movement emulate the goals and dreams I have for dance.
-Bright lights. Shiny Sparkly Things. Big accents. Big hearts.
-Incredible dance shows! OMG! *grasps heart that is pounding out of chest*

Oh god! I need to start blogging in more detail about all of these! What an amazing experience. Vegas is such a special place. Ugly by daylight, it's beauty is held in a night time spot where a gal can drink a triple while buying eye shadow (oh yes. this happened. and yes. I did come home with the wrong color.), look up and be taken away to far off destinations like France and the Bahamas, enticed by the dancing lights and taken aback by the power of constant club music and parties.

Would I live there? HELL no. But what an incredible place to visit. What an incredibly well organized and well run festival. What an incredibly delicious time. And how bizarre that  I managed to find a sense of peace standing next to a room full of whirling lights, loud club music and sad looking gogo girls? Vegas is called fabulous for a reason and I plan on sharing my experiences with you....cause I just can't let what happened in Vegas stay in Vegas.

Seeking Sekhmet - After the show

It is the most incredibly surreal feeling to call up all the dancers at the end of a show: students, guests and colleagues and stand in front of the audience knowing it was your show that you put on and you are responsible for the success or failure of the event. As I was standing and looking between the lovely dancers and the audience, a thought came "So when's the director gonna come in and take charge of this shindig?" And then the reality check of "Oh wait. That's me." After the several shows from this last year, I am still not used to the feeling that I am running the show.

I was really surprised by the Tribute from my students. It was really cool to see them stand there and start to shimmy to the music that inspired me to shimmy and be a better dancer many years ago. That is why I still use that song to this day. It was the moment where I said to myself "Stephanie, kick it up a notch." So to see my students reflect that spark back to me was a really amazing moment.

I had a couple of tips offs in the evening that hadn't registered until it started. One of my little kids came up to me and said, "We're just gonna be outside for 10 minutes and then we'll come back and do the 5 minute shimmy." And I was like "ok, whatever crazy child." Haha. And then when I was about to go out and perform this same kid is like "Are we dancing with you now?" And I just thought "Oh you're such a diva." Hahaha. When the shimmy music started up I started to laugh because I realized this kid had let the bomb slip twice and I hadn't even noticed because I thought she was being a drama queen.

I was really impressed with my students last night. This session I gave them some very challenging pieces to perform. My beginners had a challenging drum solo, which they pulled off perfectly. My Intermediates danced a very challenging oriental/saidi styled piece, one of the most difficult they've been given to date. And for my student soloists: Rachel I made her slow it down and she smouldered on stage. Amanda emoted like a goddess, so much so I felt it at the back of the hall, and Brittany very impressively put together a choreo that I forced her to do with 2 weeks notice.

Due to some major costume changes (4 to be precise), I missed a lot of the show, which is unfortunate. I am looking forward to watching the video. I loved what I saw of Tridevi Tribal. For a new group, they danced incredibly well together. I was impressed. And Silk Sirens. *le sigh* What can I say about Silk Sirens? They are just so absolutely delicious to watch. They emote, they're together, they are technically excellent but are not techno-robots. I am so thrilled to have them joining my studio this fall. I managed to catch some of Eclipse's performance: SO cute (the concept, the ladies were HOT!)! I love Vanessa as the femme fatale, the costuming is spectacular as usual, the choreography tight, the dancing sharp and concise. Loved it. I saw part of Michelle Kaplan's solo. Wow. Michelle has such energy and strength on stage. I love her vibe.

I missed Moon Unit due to a costume change, but I am quite certain they were spectacular. Marie Habib was her usual crowd thrilling self. The audience loves ya babe! That sax solo is one of my favourite songs actually. It's such a sexy piece of music. And Maya. *sigh* Maya. So phenomenal. We are just so blessed to have her in this city. She has so much talent to offer and so much knowledge.

It is moments like this where all the blood, sweat, tears, tantrums, depression, anxiety, fear, anticipation, excitement, exhilaration is worth it. It's funny, even as a dancer, I didn't realize how much work went into putting on shows until I actually put one on. It's a lot. A LOT. But it is worth it. As cheesey as it sounds, it's like building a conduit of joy. All of the effort is being directed into a positive goal = entertaining the audience, supporting each other as women and dancers, and building on a community of dance.

Seeking Sekhmet Pre-show

I can't believe I am up at 8am the day after a show (having gone to bed at 1:30am). Yesterday was definitely a whirlwind. Hell, this last week was a whirlwind. I am very happy with how the show went. Huge thank you to all of the fabulous dancers who came out and performed. Even bigger thank you to my Rebel Hips students for supporting me and the studio, giving it their all.

I was incredibly honoured last night to have my students do a tribute to me with the 5 minute shimmy (which I took from my last teacher and mentor, Jumanah). I make all of my classes do it, from the very first beginner class, to my student troup. What was interesting to me was that I didn't get all teary and emotional. I think my voice started to crack while talking about Silk Sirens Tribal, but that was due to being parched, not emotion (although I meant every word! you ladies are fabulous). I can't be cryin' at every show! And you can't make me! Hahahaha.

Seeking Sekhmet was the show that was not supposed to "be". Originally, it was supposed to be just a small potluck gathering of my students to celebrate the end of a year before a break from choreography in the summer. Then Slave Lake happened and I wanted to do something for that. It was incredibly difficult trying to secure a location for a fundraiser show, which is why I ended up just having a silent auction (final numbers on money raised are just waiting me counting and gathering a couple payments, but I am going to guess over $300! Which isn't bad!)

As I was getting ready yesterday, I felt incredibly calm at the beginning of the day. Then my calm started to unravel. I managed to accomplish removing my old toe nail polish and putting on one coat of the new stuff, but that was about it. The day started off with me packing up the costumes (one in particular I had just finished altering the night previous), submitting the programs to the printers, and trying to finalize that music line up on my ipod so that everything would flow smoothly and evenly.

I don't like being disorganized when it comes to events. In fact, I like everything to be together and ready to go. When people show up to an event and it runs smoothly, it's because there is some Type A psycho in the background making sure all the details are in check. But I had been teaching all this week and just couldn't get all the details finalized. My next task was to start to put together tech notes. I didn't have time to go through all of the emails I received and hoped the ladies could provide the info at the show.

I packed up all the fabric, papers, a couple of the silent auction items, tried to get some of my dishes done because they hadn't been touched in a week, started doing my hair...and the phone rang off the hook. Sorry if I didn't answer, show day is crazy. As I am getting ready, with minutes to spare before I have to be at the hall, I realize I haven't picked up the programs. I had curlers in my hair and was in my pyjamas. I hopped into my car and drove like a crazy lady in the torrential downpour to pick up the programs. Of course everyone was driving like jerk offs. Who drives 40? Seriously people! Give your heads a shake! I walked into staples, ready to rock and roll and was stuck behind some door knob in line at the copy center who wouldn't stop talking. I managed to leave with programs in tow and no temper tantrums. However, at this point in my day my calm was seriously, seriously, seriously, harshed. I felt ready to explode.

I pack up the final items into my poor little car and drive over to the hall. Weirdly, I see there are lots of cars in front of it. And people hanging out. The first thought I have is "the show isn't for a few hours people, you can't wait for a seat for that long!" haha. I walk into the hall and see that it is FULL of ankle biters. Yep. Here I am thinking I can get in to do set up of the hall and it is over run with kids. Uh oh. Calm SERIOUSLY deteriorating.

I ask a young aid when they are done. They say 5:30pm is when they lock the doors. Shit. It was 4:00. Thankfully the show started a bit later than usual, but I was panicked. I walked into the back dressing room where two of my senior students were waiting and said "Well ladies, if you ever wanted to see me lose my temper and freak out, today is the day!" One of the girls was trying to hold back laughter at my near Chernobyl freak session. I managed to gain some composure and start to get a bit organized in the back room. It was a great time for hair and make-up.

As I was walking into the hallway, one of the mom's of the kids comes up to me and informs me that she is throwing a surprise birthday party for her son. For those of you that know me well, you know I shoot from the hip and am a fairly straight forward person. The battle for diplomacy (and I use those words intentionally) have been very hard fought for me. As this mom is telling me her plans, one of my senior students pops around the corner just in time to hear this exchange.

I pulled on my diplomacy pants and managed to communicate how unfortunate it was that the hall must have b een double booked and that I didn't know about the kids being there and they didn't know that I was going to be there and that it really was unfortunate we were both not better informed, however I have the hall booked for a show. I said the latest they could stay was 5:30pm. You want to know the crazy part? She didn't even have the hall booked! She was going to attach the birthday party onto the afterschool program and expected the staff to let them stay after the usual end time of 5:30pm without arranging anything with the hall in advance ("Oh, I just thought I could take over the after care program and have the staff stay later."). I forgot what neighbourhood I was in and how out to lunch the people are that live there. The poor aids (which are all teenagers) looked bewildered. Who presumes they can just have a hall for a party and not book the hall? Anyways....this woman's insanity is not the point. The point was, I was very proud that I managed to remain diplomatic and not scream at this person.  Even my students commented that they were very proud of me for keeping composed and diplomatic.And at this point, all of the crazy psycho emotions that had been running through me went away. I felt like I had accomplished something. Personal growth! Yay!

Thankfully, everything else went smoothly. Minor ankle biter disaster averted, we managed to get the hall set up in record time. Huge thanks to Erin, Brittany and Jacquie for coming early and getting to work. It went really fast. Another big thank you to Shelly for coming out and helping with ticket taking and door. Thanks to Emma for organizing the silent auction. I think if I had added that to my plate I would have had a huge meltdown.

Now, with everything going on: new session, show, studio renovations, I was spread pretty thin. I truthfully had no idea what I was going to do on stage as I had had no time to prepare in advance. But I knew what I wanted to dance to and I had to dance to those pieces. I basically pulled out the big knee pads and asked the Goddess, the Force, God, whomever to PLEASE not let me fall on my ass. And after a point, I didn't worry about it. I figured I would drop my sword, which I did, but I'm good with it. I figured there were moments when I wouldn't know what to do, which happened, and I dealt with it. All in all, I am pleased with how things turned out: I feel very happy with my own performances, very happy with guests and students AND I didn't lose my temper and scream at anyone. Good show. Good Show.

Girls and Construction

Wow. What a weekend. I was very fortunate to have some help this long weekend on studio renovations from my good friends Kara and Amanda. We worked for about 4 hours on what seemed like almost nothing. I finished putting in the main portion of the flooring tiles. Amanda cleaned the copious amounts of tape and stickers off my new filing cabinet. And Kara painstakingly cut tile pieces for all the funky corners in my office.

We started at 10am and finished at 2pm. Four whole hours of wading through shallow water. It felt like I was getting nothing accomplished. Amanda was shocked at the sheer amount of tape and it's bitter unwillingness to part from the cabinet. Even with the assistance of goo-gone!

I was pulling nails and screws out of the wall that were so plentiful, the walls looked like swiss cheese. Putty putty putty. At one point in the day, I had the worst screw of my life and ended up having to jack hammer it into submission.

Upon finishing the laying of the tiles, the tape removal and some bad screwing, we all ventured towards peeling off the sticky vinyl lettering from windows and doorways. The goo didn't seem to help, so it was razors, scrapers and fingernails to the rescue. Some pieces came off easily, others required Kara's switchblade.

I very poorly started to spray paint the elusive filing cabinet. I thought black was going to be badass until I found copper metallic spray paint! WOW! Gotta have it fo' sho'! Four cans of spray paint later.......it still looks like a fifth grade craft project. Thankfully Kara's mad skills at using a can of spray paint acquired from her misguided youth saved the day.

With my belly angrily screaming at me to feed it, I herded the girls out of the studio and towards some delicious Vietnamese eatery nearby. We laughed, we cried. We compared battle scars. It was a good day.

I went back to the studio today and grouted the tile that is in my office. While labour intensive (on hands and knees spreading out even layers. Funnily, all I could think about was how I was engaging my core....) it was REALLY easy! Gals! If you haven't grouted something, you gotta try it! It's repetitive, low maintenance and requires a good scrubbing after it's dry to remove the crusties. Kind of like a man.

It took me about 2 hours to grout the whole floor including clean up. Once I was done, I looked down and saw that it was good! Off to the studio I went for another bout of classes (an interview with a salsa instructor. Muy caliente! Did she ever get me sweating). I planned to go back and put on the base boarding, but I needed some more paint around the edges.

So now I've got a big caulk and I'm going to lay that baseboard tomorrow like it's never been lain before!

Rosie the Riveter, you sure are riveting!

This article is for all the badass gals out there that are taking over the world one zaghareet at a time and for my Tribe.


I've been working diligently over the last month on renovating and building my new studio: the most awesomest place for dance and fitness ever. But aside from that, I've always been a Do-It-Yourself kind of gal. From making my own Barbie clothes as a kid to planning the wedding of my failed marriage, I've always believed there wasn't anything I couldn't learn how to do and excel at. This is mostly in credit to my mother, who despite passing down a magazine rack of issues, always told me from the time I was a small child that if I set my mind to it, I could do anything.

This may seem trite, but I actually believe this is true for anyone. Things are only impossible or unbelievable until we take the first step into making them possible or a part of our belief system. We all use different tools to get us there. For some it takes longer and for others, they charge full steam ahead. Some find words inspiring, actions, images and so forth.

So here I am going about my merry little day, wondering what large obstacle I can tackle next, building my pipes lifting boxes of tile when I see the image of Rosie the Riveter. For those of you that don't know, Rosie the Riveter is a fictional character from WWII used in marketing campaigns to encourage women to work in munitions factories while men were at war. She is a unique symbol from the 1940s with her bulging biceps and furtive stare. This in a time where women were depicted as slender waisted and demure. Rosie the Riveter struck a chord with women who had long been depicted as meek. She still maintains a touch of feminity with the head scarf she wears that holds back her hair while she works.

This famous image is incredibly inspiring to women and truly is a picture that says a 1000 words with a 1000 meanings to thousands of women. What does Rosie the Riveter mean to me? I've gone through several phases in my life; from overly dramatic child, to moody plane jane teen, to prissy frilly belly dancer, I've always felt the importance of being strong and embracing my womanhood. Just like Rosie.

Now that I am a business owner, I've had to really embrace the motto "We can do it!" or "I can do it!". When I first started my business I had no budget for marketing, web, etc. I spent the first 2-3 months of my business and some 6-8 hours a day specifically on learning the tools in photoshop, developing a website and learning how to sculpt my brand. I had been unemployed for many months prior to opening my studio, so it was more "You have to do it!" in the beginning. They say necessity is the mother of invention and when your means are limited your creativity catapults forward.

I would have never guessed that I would develop multi-class curriculums, teach 9-12 classes a week, develop marketing and strategic plans, learn how to create ads and web content and finally learn how to do renovations. Prior to seeing Rosie's picture yesterday, I ran into Rona (my fave place) to pick up some supplies. I have always found the staff there to be incredibly helpful and knowledgable. There was an older gentleman working in the flooring department. I asked him some questions about flooring and he stopped me and said "Don't you ever let anyone tell you that there is anything you can't do." I was really taken aback by this, but intrigued, so he continued. "Just because you are a woman, doesn't mean you can't do construction. You can do anything a man can do, if not better."

I asked him if he had daughters, which I had a feeling he did, and he said yes. I was very touched by this little exchange and had a nice chat with him about some more projects I was undertaking. I felt that if I could make crafts or bake or put together furniture, I could do anything. I just had to change my mindset that it was hard and impossible to that it is doable and manageable.

We really live in a negative and "Don't" based culture. Don't misbehave. Don't have a voice. Don't go against the grain. Despite many corporate messages of "Just do", they really mean "Just do, but within the parameters we set out for you." I would like to encourage all of you who have managed to get through this article to DO and BELIEVE and BREAK FREE of the prescriptions of "can't" and "only able". That is the message of Rosie the Riveter to women: go and achieve with strength and courage because if there is anything that can be done - WE CAN DO IT!

Sprynge Fayre - a teacher and studio owners perspective

Last night I put on the 3rd Show I've hosted since Rebel Hips opened one year ago. From a logistical stand point, everything seemed to be going wrong. The beautiful fabric that I had to cover the walls kept falling down (I believe this is due to using a new type of double side tape than what I usually do), the music kept cutting in and out, we ran out of water, etc and so on. While in an ideal world, those things wouldn't have happened, they didn't seem to dampen the mood or the spirit of the night. Like a bride that smiles through rain on her wedding day, everyone danced and fell into the spirit of the evening.

A lot of people don't realize the blood, sweat and tears that goes into putting on a show or building a choreography and teaching it. Usually, the week before the show (and even the day of) I feel very grouchy and curmudgeonly as I compile lists of music, programs, finalize ticket sales, etc. I had spent the last week running from place to place to make sure that things were together and organized. And then the day of the show hit and I felt absolutely overcome with calm, joy and excitement.

One of the best moments as a teacher is watching your students grow, learn and take bigger and braver steps. I imagine it is very similar to motherhood. You teach lessons, you provide guidance and you hope that they will take those first steps on their own. And when they do, it's like a double rainbow of awesome opens up in your heart.

As people and performers began to show up, I started to feel really nervous, which is uncharacteristic of me. It is the most surreal feeling to go from being a student attending shows, to a student dancing in shows, to a semi pro, to a pro and then to a studio owner putting on shows. I had my make-up on and was ready to rock and thought "When is this show going to start?" and laughed when I realized that was MY job to take care of!

I came out into the hall area and was blown away by what I saw: Manda, Reginia and Michelle were helping my father-in-law, Les Posein, put up one of the wall hangings that fell down. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that some of my guest performers would stop and take the time to help me with something without being asked and without it being expected. I've been at shows throughout my dance life where even the students wouldn't lift a finger to help out and teachers or owners were stuck doing things themselves. So to have guests pitch in really inspired me and made me realize what incredible women I had before me.

When the show was about to start, I felt light of spirit and ready. I felt like t he thing I was meant to do was before me and I was humbled by it. In the first number with my student troup and I, the music was really quiet, but the girls soldiered on and the audience watched with intensity.

And then my beginner students went up to perform. I stood at the back of the hall and watched these very brave and courageous women step out onto stage with all of the pride and fervour that I had beat into them over the last 8 weeks! One of the other ladies commented on how impressed she was that my students smile and look like they are having fun. I replied that I have taught them that if they don't smile I will beat them. It's really a fear smile. Haha.

As I stood and watched them danced, I became overcome with this enormous sense of love in my heart that seemed to fill up my entire body. I teared up a little but managed to shelf them away so I didn't ruin my drag-queen make up job. I knew how much this performance meant to these ladies, some of which are going through huge transitional periods in their lives. This was a breaking out moment. To stand in front of a crowd in a sparkling bra, showing your belly in a world that bullies people into believing they aren't good enough is a huge act of courage.

As the show went on, each number that went up really made me feel prideful that I was where I was at. That I had the ability to bring together such lovely women was such an amazing feeling. Diane Szoke's solo was incredibly touching, powerful and sexy. Diane has come a long way from the hafla that she danced at in my studio last year. While she has not been a student of mine, she is definitely a kindred spirit and I loved the energy and heart that she put into her performance.

I was really impressed with Ave's performance to "I Put a Spell on you" by Natascha Atlas. She worked on the choreography with her mother and what a fitting mother's day gift to perform it in public. Especially as a very new dancer.

Carla Young's sword solo was INCREDIBLE. It was such a pleasure to see her dance as a soloist, as I've only ever seen her dance in a group. She is a fantastic dancer. Moon Unit was lovely as always, their warm personalities radiated through their dancing. They really are as nice as they seem! And HUGE props go to Terry Tudor for having the courage to perform Tribal Improv for the FIRST time by herself after all of her classmates were not in attendance. She did an incredible job for someone who was thrust in the fire!

As I prepared to dance, having watch everything I had just witnessed, I felt prepared. I felt ready. I couldn't wait to share my joy and my love for dancing with the audience. I was a little nervous as it was the first time I had ever danced with silk fans. But I loved the song I had chosen and it just felt right. One of my favourite moments during my performance was looking over and seeing Denise from Bedouin Beats sitting in the front row smiling. She has been a very dear friend of mine and means a lot to me. She was very kind and welcoming of me when I moved to Edmonton when a lot of other people were not.

After I was done performing, I could sense the crowd was a bit restless, but I wanted to hand out the door prizes. This is a tradition I had from dancing in Calgary and I can't seem to put on a show without them! As the wall hangings were falling to the ground, all I could see were the smiling and engaged faces looking back at me from the audience.

And then the second half began. The choreography that I put together for Al Muttanab came from some place in me that I didn't know existed. It felt very powerful and surreal, like I hadn't made it. It was the piece I was looking forward to seeing performed the most. It was also the most challenging choreography I have given my students. While it doesn't look difficult, the foot work and transitions are incredibly challenging, as well as making the silk veil look like it is breathing and dancing. I was brought to tears by my students. They made mistakes sure, but this piece was so difficult, they were pushing over a personal fear and achieved. I was beyond proud. At this point, I was brought to tears.

Erin's drum solo was cute and I was thrilled that she took it on. Eclipse. *le sigh* Eclipse. Always beautifully dressed (which is a huge pet peeve of mine, when groups of dancers do not put effort into their costuming. These ladies always look spectacular.) these ladies shone as usual. They really are incredibly talented at what they do. It's really neat to see how they have grown as dancers over the last 2.5 years I've been in Edmonton. And Kara! OMG! Kara! Her solo had so much fire and passion in it. I was very proud that she is one of my students. Manda, Michelle and Reginia were phenomenal. These are the tribal dancers that other tribal dancers should aspire to be like. They had energy in their faces and arms, they very beautiful technically and they knew what they were doing. These ladies know how to perform and bring honour to Tribal style dancing.

Svetlana's solo was absolutely fantastic. She has not been dancing for long (I believe under a year) and she choreographed an incredible solo. She looked like a queen on stage and looked very natural and comfortable. It was fantastic.

Andrea Wilson was absolutely resplendant. I love her style and the way she engages with music and audience alike. I feel like she has found her own very powerful voice and she is using it to exclaim loudly. While she is so talented, she is also a wonderful person and I am very happy to have her teaching at my studio.

My meleya leff. Haha. I have always dreamed of doing meleya leff. I am a big  ol' ham at heart and don't take myself very seriously. To get up there in ruffles and paillettes and twirl a large piece of polyester was a thrill of a lifetime for me. I loved it and the audience reaction felt awesome. One of my favourite moments  from the show were the sound of the crowd when I pulled up Greg's father Les Posein, the sound guy, to dance. He instantly abandonned inhibitions and gave a hot performance with the meleya! But I love how the audience cheered him on!

And once the show was over, I couldn't contain my emotions anymore. I felt a bit cheesey, but I felt so overwhelmed. This last session had been really difficult for me emotionally. It was when I transitioned from being a teacher who loved to teach and is passionate about what she does, to realizing that teaching and owning a studio is a job. And like any job it has it's shitty days, it's days when you just want to stay in bed or scream at someone but can't or throw your hands up and say "I'm done.". That was a really difficult place to come to when I was living in the moment of enacting my dream. I felt embarassed b/c I thought "I'm living my dream! I should be happy all the time!" But last night was a reconning for me. All of the blood, sweat and tears was shown back to me like a mirror image and I was overcome with joy and pride.

It was also the moment where I realized what I meant to my students and what they meant to me. I would never presume that I changed someone's life or impacted someone beyond merely giving them a break from their families. But my students showed me that I did and I feel so incredibly humbled by that gift, I feel like I could weep for days at the receipt of it. And all I can say is thank you to these women who have allowed me into their lives and have listened to what I have to say.

I have often thought that I should move my shows to a stage, but I dislike the disconnection that happens when you separate people with a barrier like a large and imposing stage. I don't want my shows to lose the magic of people moving freely around and interacting with the audience by being able to look directly into their eyes and show their fear and elation at being there.

I have also been incredibly graced with having wonderful audiences filled with people who want to be there and support each other. It seems like the naysayers and "haters" stay away. Maybe they are repelled by the incredible positive energy of the audience and peformers. Or maybe they lack the courage to admit that someone is doing a good job. Whatever it might be, the people who attend honour the performers and the space and the hard work. They are always generous with cheering and clapping which is greatly appreciated.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, to the soles of my feet to the tips of my fingers. Thank you.

Perspective on the self

I believe in being true and in opening myself up to that truth, constantly striving for a true message or belief in myself. It means admitting joy, anger, weakness, accomplishment, success, happiness and so forth; the full spectrum of human emotion. However, sometimes our perceptions and lenses make us incapable of seeing ourselves truthfully.

I have had quite a bit on my mind recently about my own body image and my perception of myself. I had some struggles with nourishment last year that threw my body out of whack and ended up with me not feeling or looking like what I perceived as "myself".

In the last couple of weeks, I've had some pretty interesting things come up that have challenged my own perspectives and beliefs about myself and how I perceive myself, which has then in turn got me thinking about how women see themselves as a whole. It isn't a new idea that women are hard on themselves or that they self flagelate. In fact, we are bombarded with messages of how much women hate themselves and each other, as we are with images of what we should look like.

So for a while I was really feeling down about what was peering back at me when I looked in the mirror. I felt "unhealthy" and embarassed. Then a light bulb moment came.

I was talking with one of my students. A very beautiful and very talented student that I feel incredibly honoured by when she signs up again for another session of dance. Anyways, we were chatting casually while she was trying on some costumes and what she said completely shook my world. She said to me "Are you sure I look good in this costume? I feel really mannish, especially when I look at how curvy and beautiful you are."

I was shocked. I was totally and completely shocked. I assured her that she looked quite lovely (and I mean really wow). After she left the studio I sat down and I thought very intently about what she had said to me and the implications of it. Here was someone who I looked at and thought was incredibly beautiful, graceful and hard working, who thought they looked mannish. And then, to top it off, that the thing I was struggling with the most at the time was an aspiration? This really got me thinking.

I then had another conversation with a different woman. She is a teacher of a variety of dance. I really wanted to learn this new style (new to me anyways) and so I took the class. I felt very self conscious because there were other students in that class that knew me in a teaching capacity. I felt like people expected me to be perfect. That I wasn't allowed to be goofy and awkward as I approached this new style. I felt very compelled to make sure I was doing everything right because I was a teacher of another style. And then this teacher admitted to me that she felt self conscious about me being in the class because I moved beautifully and she felt awkward!

And I thought: Well ain't that some shit?

If the message from the universe wasn't ringing clear enough, it whalloped me once more when a student who I think is very beautiful and has a very sensual body shape AND is doing amazingly well in class emailed me to apologise for not being good enough.Yet again. SHOCK. Total and complete shock.

So here we are. I'm self conscious. She's self conscious. I'm sure if you're reading this, you're self conscious too. Hell, the lady sitting next to you while you read this is also self conscious. So where does that leave us?

I am not writing this for validation or to get people to respond with hokey self-love messages that they don't mean or embody in their own lives. I am writing this because I see all of these experiences as demonstrative of a larger problem in our culture: the lack of self acceptance and the rifts they create in relationships with ourselves and others.

All of these very small moments, which only took seconds out of my life have felt like someone ringing a very large and loud bell in my ears, the tones of which reverberate through my body. I have at times felt like a hypocrit preaching self acceptance to my students, when I stood in front of them at moments not accepting who I was. It all comes down to one very simple idea: If all of the people around you deserve to be accepted for who they are, why don't you?

These women who shared with me how they felt are all very kind hearted people. I've never heard any of them say something bad about another person. I've never felt any sort of judgement or unkindness from them, but like most of us and just like me, they hand out acceptance of others before themselves.

What a terrible disservice we are doing to ourselves. No wonder some of us are addicted to food or shopping or gambling or alcohol or...or...or...or...or. No wonder people overwork themselves, constantly striving to be better. No wonder women enroll their children into 500 activities, plus maintain a perfectly clean house, cook and work. We don't think we are good enough as we are.

These last few weeks have been hugely impactful for me and I can't seem to keep it to myself. I feel like the universe has taken a big shiney hammer and rap tap tapped me quite squarely on the head. We all deserve to be accepted for who we are, especially by ourselves.

Pirating Music

I was recently online looking through dance related articles when I came upon this article by Horatio Cifuentes: http://www.gildedserpent.com/cms/2011/02/02/horacio-khaled-pirating-music/

And it reminded me of an issue that tweaks my cymbals just a touch: pirating dance music. When I lived in Calgary, I went into Son of the Pharaoh one day to buy some new CDs so I could begin to build my own music collection. I understood that buying music was a part of investing in becoming a dancer. When I went to pay for my discs I received a stern talking to from Emad telling me that I better not make copies of the CDs for all my friends. I assured him I wouldn't but was puzzled by his comments about teachers giving out copies to their students.

I didn't understand what he was talking about. But sure enough, within the next couple of years I met a multude of dancers who purchased CDs and then made free copies for their friends. I am not talking about one song for a choreography class. I am talking about a full disc of music to pass along and share.

I understand that file sharing is the wave of the future. But to put things into perspective, a lot of the musicians on the discs that we enjoy so much live in small apartments and struggle to keep food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads. Imagine if you were struggling to make a living and you found out that someone was giving away your hard work for free?

With the advent of iTunes, you can sometimes purchase Belly dance music at a reasonable price ($9.99-$14.99). Otherwise, most dance CDs will cost you $18-$25 (sometimes even $30). I recognize that with the advent of the internet and file sharing we are not accustomed to spending this amount of money on music. However, independantly produced albums do not belong to multi-million dollar record labels that rake in millions of dollars in profits a year. As Horatio outlines in his article, they are produced through blood, sweat, and tears by independant artists who are struggling to support their art.

It is sometimes difficult to find good music without knowledge of various artists names. Some recommendations that I have that are available on iTunes: Hakim, Nagwa Karam, Tarkan, Tanyeli, Amr Diab, Niyaz, 10 Songs Every Belly Dancer Should Know, Shik Shak Shok, Layali Al Sharq.

Costume Chronicles - Episode 5 - Chicken Cutlets

As dancers, we all try to look our best when we perform. That sometimes means adding hair extensions, false eyelashes, padding to our bras, etc. However, when something goes wrong with these delicate additions, things can get very embarassing, very quickly.

I was dancing in a restaurant in one of my most favourite costumes. As a smaller busted gal, I like to add padding to my bras. I recently purchased some clear silicone inserts (which I affectionately call chicken cutlets) to boost my bossom.

I was gleefully dancing away. I came to one table where a man and woman sat. The male customer was politely watching me perform. The female customer kept trying to talk to him. He looked at her and said "Shut up, I am watching the dancer." She was suitably embarassed.

I kept dancing around the restaurant and later came back to the table. The woman motioned me towards her. I was a bit worried about what she was going to say to me considering the fact that her "date" had told her to shut up only moments previously. She said "There's something coming out from under your bra." I gasped and replied "Underboob?" and she said "No, it's something else. I'm not sure what."

So I reached a hand up, not sure what to expect, to find my lovely little chicken cutlet hanging out of the bottom of my bra! I was mortified! I did a little wiggly to try to unobtrusively get it back in my bra discreetly to no avail. Sweat covered silicone is VERY sticky. It wouldn't budge. So I delicately draped my veil over my body and made a grande entrance to the back room (thankfully my show was almos tover and the restaurant wasn't busy).

Upon inspection later, I discovered that I must have lost quite a bit of weight, because I ended up taking in my bra band about 3-4"!!

Costume Malfunction Chronicles Episode 4 - The Thong Song

I never suspected that this would ever be a problem for me. I have been graced with an ample booty and never suspected I would have to worry about a costume sliding down my delicious rebel hips. But heavily beaded stretch fabric defies the laws of physics and good sense.

It was May of 2010. I was hosting the grand opening of my studio. I was very excited. I purchased this gorgeous Barbie pink costume from a dear friend of mine, Denise, from her studio, Bedouin Beats. To this day this costume is still one of my favourites.

However, with getting ready for the studio, organizing the grand opening, etc, I didn't bother to test the costume out while dancing. What I didn't notice until later was that the eleastic the manufacturer had put in had popped. In my haste, I packed up my costume bag and headed to the studio for the grand opening.

I had decided to dance to a very fast Issam drum solo. I was tired from standing, but was up for the challenge. I was so proud of my accomplishment with the studio I entered the performance area "guns blazing" (no they really were, those jewels made my boobs sparkle like never before!).

As I began to dance, I quickly noticed a problem. A big problem. My skirt was very quickly sliding down my body. I thought I was being so suave (NOT) when I tried to hike it up mid shimmy. Well, what did I grab instead of the skirt? My bright blue thong and YANKED it up. So my skirt was down low and my thong was up high. Mortifying! I think everyone had a good laugh about it and I kept on dancing, keeping my wayward skirt and booty in check. Thankfully the audience was full of friends and family. I can't imagine the first impression that would have made.

When I got home that night I looked at the skirt and realized my booty really had saved the day as the leastic on the one side had popped. Thankfully this experience taught me to always check my skirts. The next costumes I ordered from overseas didn't even have elastic sewn in at all!

Costume tip: When sewing elastic into a skirt, ue a minimum width of 1", preferrable 2" for extra strength.

Nourishment vs. Weight Loss

Yes I am up at 2am. And yes I can appreciate the irony of writing on nourishment w hen I am clearly not sleeping. I swear it is due to too many naps today and a flood of nightmares the night previous! I promise I'll get to bed soon.

I have been thinking a lot lately about "stuff". In particular, stuff relating to nourishment and how we intake food. I received an invitation for an event on January 15th which is focusing on Low-glycemic eating and how to make it a part of your every day life. I am really excited about the event and the messages it brings.

Low-glycemic eating in my mind basically boils down to eating delicious fresh foods, as opposed to overly processed or convenience foods. This is over-simplification, but is basically correct. One of my favourite "lazy" product commercials is the pre-peeled, pre-diced frozen potatoes. Golly food processing companies are brilliant. Take something as easy as making mashed potatoes, make it sound hard, slap some packaging onto it and sell it for 5x what it's worth...but I digress. *sigh*

Being a dancer, studio owner and hell, just a woman, I am perpetually inundated with messages from the media, other women, students and myself about weight loss. I, like many other women, struggle with how I view myself, my body and how those two things fit in this world. But I am getting tired of the old dog and pony show and would like to shift the focus from weight loss to nourishment.

I believe that when we focus on weight loss, we focus on deprivation. The idea of "I need to lose weight." already puts you in the headspace that a)you need to deprive yourself of something to be something b)that you are not good enough to deserve nourishment because nourishment leads to extra weight. These are particularily dangerous places to be in mentally because this type of deprivation ideology leads to over eating, starvation/binging cycles and other series food related illnesses like anorexia and bulimia.

What is setting my brain all atizzy is that we are heading into the biggest binge and purge season of the year: Christmas and New Years. I'm sure many of you have already been to several Christmas parties where you ate and drank too much (binge), and then spent the next week feeling guilty (purge), starving yourself (or attempting to) and then binging again because you are hungry and require nourishment. Then, we enter the magical New Year, where everything is supposed to be better and how suddenly there is supposed to be this astronimical shift in the time space continuum where you will suddenly become skinny through deprivation or maniacal amounts of exercise. And when we fail a month later, which we inevitably do because we set unrealistic goals, we feel even worse and hope to god we can manage to not go up another pant size until Spring.

Whew! That was quite the run-on sentence! I'm tired from just typing it! Wow. That is a lot of pressure. I'm sweating and I am just writing about it.

About a month and a half ago, I had a paradigm shift. I was focusing on "lack" and "deprivation". When I realized, I was putting the wrong things into my body for the wrong reasons. I decided to focus on nourishment and filling my body with good food. And to eat lots of really healthy, delicious things. And lo and behold, when I started to focus on nourishment, my body responded with "hey, I like this!" and has started to let go of some of the weight I believe it was desperately holding onto for fear of being starved!

A lot of people say "I don't have time to prepare healthy meals." I am guilty of that. I have some frozen dinners in my fridge for just such an occassion. I am fortunate in that I don't have to go to that well very often, but it's nice having a back-up. I am also a crazed type-A OCD thinker that is constantly churning new ideas and working on new projects (ahem, 2:13am now, yes I know....). So I get it. You're busy. Me too.

But I came to the conclusion that if I didn't stop and focus on nourishing my body through good food and adequate rest (yes I know. I promise I'll get my sleep schedule back. Nightmares are a bitch!) I would put my body into a very bad place that would require a lot of recovery, maybe even doing potential further damage to my body.

I now believe that when we are properly nourished, our bodies will look the way they are supposed to look. I believe that weight issues are at epidemic proportions because we belong to a culture of deprivation and shame, as opposed to nourishment and acceptance. Obesity and weight gain are just symptoms of this culture. The vicious cycle that men and women become trapped in are also symptoms of this culture.

Just as deprivation and shame come in many forms, so do nourishment and acceptance. So what I would like to propose is this: Enjoy your holidays. Allow spending time eating meals with loved ones to fill your being with joy. Let it be ok for you to eat turkey and gravy and stuffing. Because it really is. Those things are delicious. And when you are setting your goals for the New Year, ignore weight and numbers, and resolve to nourish yourself. Whether it is through rest, good food, reading good books, time to yourself, time with friends, telling your spouse and children "NO" (it's ok, I promise) etc., make nourishment your priority and I believe, the things that you want in your life will come to you.

Paid Performances - To do or not to do?

When I was a student I was eager to perform. I loved it. It was my drug of choice. It made my stomach turn and my heart race, but I loved the thrill of connecting with an audience. Dancing and performance are a very personal thing. It means different things to difference people. I had been a performer since I was a small child in various capacities as singer or musician. I have discovered that when you combine something that is very personal to someone with the ability to make money or not to make money, you can at times reach conflict. There are several categories of dancers: Professional, recreational/hobbyist and student. Each of these categories of dancer brings something beautiful to the art in their own way.

Students perform at Haflas and in studio run shows that feature student performances. Student performances remind me of why I love to dance. The joy, the fear, the small mistakes and the bravery to continue are what make their performances so enjoyable. The fact that you get to watch someone discover dance reminds you why you started in the first place. Their costumes can be home made or purchased, although if purchased tend to be less expensive than the semi and pro varieties. Students, even advanced students, should not be paid to perform. It is inappropriate for students to dance at restaurants for money or for private functions for money (or for free in place of a professional dancer). Showing some friends or family members at a party what you learned in class is one thing, billing yourself out as a paid performer is another.

Recreational dancers perform at haflas, stage shows, festivals, and may belong to troups. They do not dance for a living and view the craft as more of a hobby. They may own a couple of nice costumes and maybe even own one or two professional costumes. They can be very talented dancers, but do not tend to view Belly Dance as a business. They tend to shy away from charging appropriately for their time as they see it as "just something they love to do."

Professional dancers perform for paid gigs at corporate functions, restaurants, weddings, private parties and engagements. They own several professional level costumes which they cycle through on a regular basis. They are required to maintain an excellent selection of costumes to provide their clients with variety. In the restaurant circuit, many of the regular customers cycle through a series of specific restaurants and expect to see a variety in costume, dancer and music.

Professional dancers are aware of certain standards of quality: arriving on time, hair and make-up done, high quality costumes, jewellery, ability to play zills continually, veil, ballroom shoes and appropriate music choices for their venue.

Belly Dance is not a regulated art form. This is part of its beauty and part of the problem. The reason belly dance is so accessible is that you can express yourself and don't have to be a certain body type to do so. No one will ever tell you to eat cotton balls in Belly Dance. In fact, they might encourage you to eat more cheese! Where this comes into conflict is that the standards are subjective regarding quality of performance and rates to charge.

After I had been dancing for 2 years, I had the opportunity to perform a gig at a stranger's birthday party. I contacted my teacher at the time and she gave me very little advice. If I were teaching me at the time, I would have told my student how while it was a fun sounding idea, it was really appropriate for her to do. I was at a stage in my life where I still believed the world was a generally safe place. Unfortunately, when your work uniform is a bra and belt, the world can often turn ugly quite quickly.

The people who booked the gig wanted me to show up to a  house party at 11pm at night. When I arrived, everyone was completely drunk and I was very very young. The room I was given to change in (I should have shown up in costume) had a big open window that was not covered. I hid behind the bed. Too young and timid to question. My costume was pretty for a student, but not professional quality. I was lead out into a garage to dance where the women glared at me and the men whooted like I was a stripper. The birthday boy was so drunk, he grabbed my veil and whipped my ass with it. The beads snapped and the next day I had a welt on my ass.

After I performed I went inside. The birthday boy followed me, as did his wife. He peed with the bathroom door opened and propositioned me in front of his wife. I laughed it off and ran as fast as I could. Thankfully I had been paid at the beginning of the night. I called the next day and demanded that they fix my broken veil. The wife denied what had happened.

I thought I knew so much at the time, but really, I didn't know anything. I was so upset at how I had been treated. But when I look back at it, what did I expect? I was showing up at a house party at 11pm at night. Everyone would be drunk by then. And I went by myself, as a young woman. I also took payment for a skill that I was not a professional at, and so I was marring my own field with my inexperience.

Performing is fun. As dancers, we all want opportunities to show what we've learned and to get something out of our investment of time and money. But when we are paid to perform there are certain levels of professionalism and expertise that are expect of us. My dear friend Jamilee Abir has a wonderful article on her website about professionalism and performing. http://www.abirscasbah.com/

To the students and recreational dancers: make sure to consider what you are charging and if you are really qualified to charge and perform. Speak to your teachers and mentors about gigs that come up. And remember: restaurants and other venues are always looking for the cheapest thing they can get. But good dancers aren't cheap and cheap dancers aren't good.