My heart is so full. I worked hard today with Benji – brainstorming, planning, thinking. We are both in Seattle, and he met me to look through cookbooks and talk logistics. We tried some of the best chai and hot chocolate around. We talked and talked. When he started to feel sick, I dropped him off and napped in a park. Then I headed to the U District to an African dance class I wanted to take. I arrived a little late and caught the end of the warm up. The class is taught by Etienne Cakpo from Benin. A while back, I had heard of him from Brenda, but I hadn't ever made the time to attend a class. One day, I was talking about Al Minns (a favorite old-time dancer of mine), and Brenda said, “You know, Etienne is better.” Better, I thought? Really? So I checked the guy out on youtube. He seemed to dance a different style of African dance than I was used to – it was full of undulations and smooth... like Al Minns. And damn, he might be better. (I don't yet have the eye to tell.)
I went to my first class with him a few weeks back when I was in Seattle, but my legs were tired, my knees were hurting, and my mind wasn't quite in it. Today I felt rested and good, as though the class were a sort of dessert for my day. The class was amazing. I can't hear a thing he says because of the music, his accent, and his soft-spoken nature, but his movements ring so clear. He slows down, he demonstrates, he keeps a close eye on the students. And the room fills with so much love and joy that one almost can't bear it.
In my last class with Etienne, I realized through comparing my body to his, that I was not using my hips as I should. I was closed off and hiding in my pelvis. I finally understood what Brenda and Eric Franklin have been talking about when they say to open the pelvis. I've been trying to focus on that point, but it was only when I noticed Matthew's posture that I connected the pelvic opening with the rest of my posture. I spent the class today applying that structural change, and this means finding the courage to be present in my body. About half way through the class, I realized I was dancing with my pelvis in hiding. I adjusted it, and instantly someone smiled at me, as if to say, “Well, nice to finally see you...” I danced the rest of the class soaking in the good vibes, and finding my joy. This joy gives me the courage to “fill out” my posture. It gives me the courage to be fully present in my body, and start to find the rhythms.
Oh the rhythms... they are so amazing. So simple, but so complex. Etienne's helper started talking to me about the rhythm of one step, and how it was falling “off beat” or rather between the beats. It was very similar to Barry's explanation of “swung time” in jazz. I used to hear Steven Mitchell talk about a similar phenomenon in Ella Fitzgerald's singing: “Listen to Ella, she'll keep you on time...” And here it is again. I don't know what this rhythm thing is all about, but I know it's not found explicitly in the beats. (Interestingly, in swung time the notes always fall very late behind the beat. This rhythm, however, seemed to be early – just before the next beat.)
In Etienne, I have found a teacher. When I first met Brenda, I knew within 10 minutes that I wanted to continue studying under her. There was an immediate feeling of familiarity – that she was teaching things that made complete sense to me. I have found this in Etienne as well. I have met many inspiring teachers with many things to teach, but in Etienne's dance, I see something I want to model myself after.
I was getting out of my car on the way to the class, and wondering whether or not I should change the name of my blog. “Becoming a professional” may be a little misleading if I'm starting to reconsider being a professional dancer. I have spent the last week crunching numbers and talking recipes... Is this reason to change the name? Have I changed my goals? All this talk about finances and work has taken my mind away from dancing, and I felt like maybe I am taking the wrong track and partially abandoning dance. Whatever happened in this dance class, my worry flew out the window. Everything seemed to make sense, and I saw that African dance is in my future. I am training myself to be a “diasporic dancer,” that is, I want to dance the effects of the African diaspora – mambo, salsa, lindy hop, tango, blues, etc. Somehow everything I'm doing revolves around Africa – a continent I know nearly nothing about. But when I dance, when those movements get into my body, they demand everything of me. They insist that I hold nothing back. The movement infuses me, and I am transported to another place. I don't know what all this is about, but I know that of all the dances I do and love, only African dance feels like something I know. The rest is fascinating, even intoxicating, but African dance is my root.
