Dancing Dreams

A dyslexic dance teacher? A free-form dance teacher? Are these oxymorons?

I’m both. Through no intention of my own. It started with a dream. A dream that gave me the blessings and encouragement to teach and share my passion of the healing journey dance had taken me on throughout my life to that point at 37 years old. 

A mother, a business woman, an unhappily married woman who had secretly danced all her life, mostly by herself. In private studios, living rooms, far away tavernas under Mediterranean stars, in holds of cattle boats in stormy seas off the Patagonian coast. I’ve danced in many strange places but until the dream, I never imagined having a gift to share. A reason to share. 

The book, Maps to Ecstasy by Gabrielle Roth, (order her books, DVDs & music here) led me to the 5 Rhythms dance community. I discovered I was not alone in my passion! There were other dancers out there who sought freedom in their dance self expression. Not imitation of steps and choreographed scenarios, but authentic movement that evolved from within. 

God, Sex and the Body was one of the many dance workshops I took with Gabrielle in my mid-thirties. My dyslexia was not an issue as I wasn’t following steps. This set me free. I could dance in a room full of others and connect or NOT…

I found my dance tribe and to this day I still attend the Sweat Your Prayers style weekly dance events around the globe. It has proliferated and there are ecstatic dance communities in almost every part of the world I travel through–Ashland, OR; Port Townsend, WA; Pahoa, HI….  And most of us have Gabrielle Roth to thank for spreading the word about dancing for dancing sake.

Back to the dream…

I continued my private dance exploration while studying over several years with Gabrielle. Tensions and constrictions in my body were breaking loose as I danced my emotions. The glacial blocks in my psyche were shifting and melting, sometimes it was painful internally, other times blissful. Dance allowed me to travel through my emotional landscape without drowning in the fears and intensities. I got curious instead of fearful when large waves took me into deeper waters of my past. What does this dance look like, feel like, where will it take me? The only way to find out was to let it flow through my dancing body. Fascinating! Suddenly the feelings I had avoided all my life, been trained to avoid, were now fodder and fuel for creative development.

No only did I get physically and emotional stronger, I had found my “church”, my place to dance my prayers, inside and out. Issues such as bronchial illness and gallbladder ailments disappeared. Even my dyslexia!

Back to the dream…

So I danced and danced for several years and then one night when I was 37 years old I had a dream that was not a dream. It was a message, an invitation. In the dream Gabrielle Roth swirled past me in a garden, dancing in great swoops and turns. She gestured with a long fingered hand for me to follow her. I danced behind her through the garden. People were everywhere and they parted as we past watching us dance. She entered a maze, a green boxwood hedge labyrinth. I danced after her on the gravel path around and around the spiral until we reached the center.

Gabrielle stopped and turned to me, inviting me with a smile and those long fingered hands to dance on her head. I rose above her and found my self dancing upside down with our crowns touching. She looked up at me and gave me a very encouraging grin and laughed. She supported my weight on her head as I spun and wove my arms like snakes in the air. I noticed that crowds of people, thousands, were surrounding the labyrinth. As they watched me dance, they clapped and cheered. 

I danced faster and faster. feeling lithe and free. Then Gabrielle who had been standing still as I danced upside down on her head, raised her arms in an invitation. I slide down and she embraced me. She pulled me close and kissed me on the lips. It was a seal of blessing and permission to teach. I was so surprised! Even in the dream I was surprised that I was meant to teach, Now! It had never crossed my mind to teach on my own. What would I teach?

The dream was real. I could not dispute its message and Gabrielle’s seal of approval to step up to the plate and share my dance knowledge with others. 

I started teaching the next day. By myself. That was 17 years ago. Since then I have taught many many classes and workshops. 

The message for you is, if your teacher blesses you to teach– do so–no matter how scary or how clueless you feel about what you have to give. You will be guided by the ones that have walked the path before you–seen and unseen.

Daylight Dancing

Dancing is usually considered an evening pastime. Bonfires and dance halls, night clubs and parties. Dancing in the dark is more mysterious. Inhibitions loosened by low light and exhibition fueled by alcohol. Boundaries are hazier. People less self conscious if they can’t be seen so easily as in the stark light of an early Sunday morning! 

This is one of my main times to dance on either Saturday or Sunday mornings at the local Sweat Your Prayers in Marin County. It is a peppy event with 50 -150 people attending weekly.  It takes me awhile to want to look at the other dancers–that bright morning light adds 10 years to most faces! All those lines and crags can be scary. It is intimidating to see folks in the harsh light of day waving their arms around in skimpy costumes and pogo sticking about to fast beats. Even the younger folk (under 30) look a bit shadowy at first. My mind makes horribly critical comments. A commentary that makes me chuckle internally but will not score me any good karma points. “There goes Jesus” or “Does anybody in this room have ANY sense of rhythm?” On and on the dialog unravels in my ego mind.

But before I scare you away from sweating your prayers in the morning with a bunch of other dance addicts, let it be known IT IS MY FAVORITE TIME TO DANCE! Despite what the exterior looks like. 

I’ve got lots of energy and because it is not a club scene, at all, I can stretch and do whatever my body feels like without a partner, whatever! We are all just there to dance. With eyes open, with eyes shut. Stretched out like a crawling crocodile on the floor or leaping about like Nureyev.

And the dance takes hold of me and eventually my mind gives up it’s need to control and isolate me from other humans. If the room isn’t too crowded, my creative edge really has a place to play as there are no steps to follow, just the inspiration of the moment. It is my time to explore my dance and feel the music wind through my tendons.

And there is nothing better than being soaking wet from dancing before 10 AM!

Tina Turner Still Has Legs

Do you remember when Tina Turner made a comeback in the 80s? MTV was the venue and her dress was short with beaded fringe ( I think?), her skin glowed and her legs were STUPENDOUS! She was almost 50 years old. Damn, she danced like she was possessed by the Goddess of Sexy Fire Tower Moves as she belted out I Can’t Get No Satisfaction. 

So. Years later, like last Saturday, some friends and I went to the new jazz club, Yoshi’s, in San Francisco. Pete Escoveda and his big band, including his daughter Sheila E, the symbol kicking sexy mama from Prince days, blasted out drum sizzling Latin riffs. It was hard to just sit there tapping toes and drumming fingers on the table top. We got up and danced even though no one else did. The band kept waving their hands upward in the inviting gesture, get off your butts! 

Jordan Scott and I spun and salsa-ed and shimmied and forgot that we were on our own isolated island of dance joy. Endorphins released and, boy, did we laugh and grin in between the spins. 

The show ended and we wandered with the crowds into the lobby. The hair was the first giveaway. The distinctive creamy mocha skin tone. Just to make sure, I stepped back and looked down. Sure enough, there were those chiseled legs in stylish high heels– the same shape as the MTV days. Tina Turner was in the audience and to my inner delight, I knew that she was probably getting an eye full of me on the dance floor at about the same age as she was when I’d watch her with admiration as she strutted about in those super short dresses belting out her song.

What’s the message for today — get up and dance! It is soul satisfaction on a big level. And ya never know who’s watching…

Hands Dancing Freely

There is a way to dance where the movement goes beyond the body. I use my hands to expand my range of movement beyond my physical perimeters. Having the movement continue out the finger tips, like invisible threads of expression, brings a core strength and passion that anchors me in the subtle yet strong unity of my creative movement. As if threads of movement snaking from my gut, up my torso, into my shoulders, winding their way through the elbow and wrist joints and unfurling through the fingers and out the tips are painting my dance on an airy canvas. This ability to see and feel the movement whoosh and weave from my feet or core and eventually travel out the fingers is quite engrossing. 

Try it! Connect your hands to your solar plexus and see viscus, stretchy threads unifying the two areas and no matter how far you reach and extend from your core with your hands (or feet), you are rooted in your self. 

I worked with a student yesterday on this focus. Her hands are her last frontier for free expression. They look stumpy when she dances, unlike the rest of her body that is fully engaged and visibly enlivened in the dance. I requested that she hyper focus the dance through her hands and since she is a singer too, to connect her hands with the vocal vibrations as she sang. Her hands came to life and appeared longer and finer and like butterflies instead of knotted, gnarled, angry disconnected stumps. Her hands turned crimson from the circulation and energy release. She confided that they had been aching for years and she had always hated their appearance. They manifested her controlled pain.

Let go Let go Let go. Fly and be fearless to reach beyond yourself! 

Dancing Diamonds

From the day I arrived home from the hospital my mom would pick me up, place me on her hip and dance around the living room to music from the radio before my dad got home from work.”Think like a feather,” mom would say as she bent down to lift me into her arms for our daily dance.

Without knowing it, she brought out my genetic penchant for dance. I’m adopted and found out much later in life that my birth mother was one of Fred Astaire’s dance partners. This shall be another blog entry for sure!

Not only am I a dancer and teacher of dance, I’m also a writer and writing instructor (www.lisaalpine.com). Many of my short stories have appeared in anthologies. I’m currently writing a collection about dance which I will self-publish. Here is a story I wrote about one of my dance experiences as a child. It shows my devotion and innocence of experiencing dance as a form of prayer and gratitude:

Dancing Diamonds (by Lisa Alpine)

 Her sea green eyes are pointedly focused on me as I sit next to her on the couch. Her dry, cold hand lies over mine, and tightens. I squirm as her platinum wedding band digs into my knucklebones. It hurts. But she is grinning stiffly at me.

In a measured tone she says, “My dear, I have a gift for you that no one else in the family wants. They are too cheap to insure it so I’m giving it to you, my youngest granddaughter.” My grandmother doesn’t give anything without strings attached. Even at 10 years old, I know this.

 My mother and father sit in wingback chairs across the room by the fireplace. They look mystified at this interaction. My grandmother is not a generous person.

 “A girl must have this,” she pointedly says, as she dramatically reaches behind her back and pulls out an antique black velvet case. My blue eyes become rounder as she inches toward me. Not quite giving it to me…she breathes on me, “It was my wedding present from my late husband, Mr. Forbes  McCreery. I was very young when I married him.  Now it is yours.”

 The touch of velvet on my palms is like reindeer antlers on a moonlit night in Antarctica. My imagination is awhirl with fairytale images of what could be inside. The top flips open and there lies a delicate lacy diamond shiny glittery necklace.

“It’s Victorian,” is all she says. My parents sit in stunned silence. They have never seen this necklace before.

Speechless I rise from the couch, the velvet case lays flat on my palms like an offering. I glide toward my bedroom and close the door.  I gently open the case again and am mesmerized by the twinkle and wink of Austrian cut diamonds and platinum lacework that sparkle against the black velvet. I place it around my neck and the cold of the diamonds on my skin is exquisite. Shivers of pleasure run through me as I realize it is real! And MINE! A fairytale princess necklace that has come true. Rarely in my vast imaginary world do objects actually materialize.

Words are not enough to show my awe at such a gift. Words are dull stones, nothing compared to the beauty of the necklace. I know what to do to show my Grandma how I feel about this gift. I wrap several silk scarves my mother lets me play with around my slight frame.

“Mama!” I call from my bedroom. “Please put Dolly Dawn on the record player.”

Shuffling sounds come from the living room and muttering and then the sunshine pulse of Caribbean steel drums and honey butter voice of Harry Belafonte heralds my arrival as I snake my way down the hallway entering the living room with a leap and spin. I twirl around the furniture. I shimmy and shake as inspiration grabs me and one by one I throw the scarves off as I gyrate like a dervish moth in the flame of joy. All that is left on my naked body is the sparkly gorgeous diamond necklace.

Raising my arms up to the heavens in salutation, I turn and bow to my Grandma, absolutely convinced I have given her the PERFECT dance of gratitude. She sits stiffly upright on the couch, hands tucked lightly under her soft thighs, mouth wide open, gaping like a fish on land. Staring at my exuberant nudity.

She is Victorian, after all.

END –Copyrighted 2008

Dance Weaver: Journey Into Movement

Dance as a healing art form? How is this so?  I’ve been teaching dance as a healing art form for 17 years in Marin County, California. Rediscovering dance in my mid-thirties was extremely healing. It provided me with an artistic vehicle for my  emotional expression.  Divorce and awakening were simultaneously tearing me apart and reconnecting me with my true inner nature during my thirties. 

As a small child, I whirled and twirled with the encouragement of my mother who also adored dancing. Movement always made more sense to me than talking or sitting at a desk listening to the teacher.  Due to extreme dyslexia though, I was not accepted into dance classes. Ballet was especially mortifying as I would do the movements in the reverse direction and the instructor thought I was being contentious. In the long run this rejection from mainstream dance study pushed me into exploring dance on my own. It probably also saved me from many injuries that are caused by the rigid requirements of ballet and it’s abusive way of manipulating the body into unnatural positions. Hence I’m 54 years old, still dancing up a storm and constantly discovering new movement patterns within my body.

So for many years, I danced on my own in my room, at clubs and rented studios in order to map out my dance journey. During the chaotic shift in my 30’s, dance suddenly became a necessary part of my healing. It opened ways inside for me to express my turmoil and joy all at the same time. Without this art form as a way to live through the relationship changes going on in my life, I would have had a nervous breakdown. The internal pressure and confusion was immense and dance provided the release valve. And bless those endorphins!