insight from reading

Stupidity is Life’s Great Motivator

No one likes to feel stupid.  And something can only be stupid if you recognize you shouldn’t be doing it.  And man, we love to do stupid things anyway, don’t we?!  I prefer not to count the times I knowingly behaved like an idiot to bask in the addictive temporary high.  (Insert here numerous accounts of fleeting dead-end romances with your typical bad-boy, charging a pair of shoes well out of my budget but looked simply divine, and saying yes to an extra job that threw my schedule into a nightmare without any quantifiable gains).  Now how can one, who supposedly has a satisfactory level of intelligence, stop behaving like a brainless dummy?

Acceptance.  Appears simple-minded and self-lovey to the strong-willed hard-worker.   Appears to mean settling, giving up.

Oh the contrary!  Lord knows, “giving up” is not in my syntax.  Yet, continuously transforming myself for the better is some sort of obsessive hobby of mine.  Writing lists of goals and scratching them off brings me utter bliss and an empowering sense of accomplishment that keeps me perpetually paper seeking with pen in hand.   

In hearing about methods of transformation and true change steering from stupidity, acceptance is the “it” word.  From therapist Jenny Taitz, in her book, End Emotional Eating to Mike Tyson, in the NYTimes, the theme of acceptance lies as the root of true transformation. Taitz writes, “…”It’s about allowing yourself to experience negative emotions if they arise while you are moving towards what matters to you. Many unwanted experiences, including thoughts and feelings, can’t be controlled, but you can still commit to actions that keep you living in line with your personal values.”  And as I digest her words, I find Mike Tyson proclaiming a similar truth.  “When I would relapse in the past, I would keep getting high until I was in a car accident or got arrested.  But this time, after drinking for two or three days, I came back.  I didn’t wait for an intervention.  I just got right back on the wagon.  After years of therapy, I had learned not to beat up on myself.  I remembered that relapse is part of the recovery.”

While I have no problem identity closer with lovely, kind, intelligent Jenny, I never thought I had much in common with pit bull Mr. Tyson, yet his humble comment makes me reconsider.

As a dancer, beating up on myself, once seemed like a badge of honor.  It implied I was one who worked hard and sacrificed for my craft to become one step closer to sweet, idolized perfection. Naturally, when this abusive mindset crept into my life as an eating disorder, I was addicted to the sense of control.  I felt accomplished, because I no longer emotionally binged ate (a.k.a. acted stupid) through my stress and tumultuous emotions surrounding my college career.

Yet years later, at a healthy weight and a less obsessive mind-set, I continued to emotionally eat.  The same root problem existed – food as an emotional buffer.  I’d be stressed.  I’d be exhausted.  I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to procrastinate.  Instead of dealing in a manner that alleviated or enhanced my emotion, I’d dive straight for Stacy’s whole wheat pita chips.  Then in a shame spiral, I’d privately throw out the bag of chips that I ate in one sitting so my roommate would never discover my piggish ways – buying and finishing the bag in 24 hours.  I wanted to eat “like a lady,” and fuel in a wholesome way, to coincide with the healthy lifestyle I claimed to honor.

It’s only when I started to recognize and identify my emotions and then accept them (and I’ll add, choose to love myself enough to give myself the upmost care – sans sabotage), that I felt like a complete idiot with my hand diving in a bag of chips.  It started to make no sense.  I knew I was not hungry.  I was actually upset.  And I still would be, with or without the chips.  It became really hard to feel like an idiot and go along with choice idiotic behavior anyway.  I opted to address the emotion, the root issue at hand, rather than place blame on myself and try to stop binge eating cold turkey. All of a sudden, as I sat on the couch and looked at my salty hand feeding my mouth like a foreign demon child who didn’t know any better, and quite frankly never got the invite to sit next to me on the couch in the first place – I felt stupid. And, feeling stupid is an awesome motivator.

To be motivated by stupidity, acknowledgment and then acceptance must follow.  We must listen and notice our habitual patterns and accept our emotions with grace. If Mike Tyson is no longer biting ears, hitting the bottle, and shooting up drugs, and can come to the same wave-length as scholarly, clear-minded therapist Jenny Taitz, we all have some room to turn our stupid behaviors into smart ones (and perhaps these two spectrums aren’t much different from one another).  It may take quieting our inner ruthless bad-ass in exchange for patience and a gentler internal dialogue, but this just may result in “much less-stupider” decisions in our future.

(PS – If you are interested in Jenny Taitz’s book, End Emotional Eating click here.)

Become Radiant.

We are so good at measuring ourselves up against expectations, striving for control, and insisting on being on the inside.  We strive to get that promotion, hear back from that date, have a child before 35, own our own apartment with a particular address, have our children accepted into the best schools, prepare and eat only the healthiest of meals, have the clearest of skin, look amazing in that LBD for Sussie’s wedding, and obviously have all the best moves when that music starts to jive.  As dancers, it’s owning the most supreme of arches in our feet, the highest extensions in our legs, a most creative, contributive mind in the midst of a new process, a limitless sense of ballon, swift learning capabilities, the most rotated hip sockets, and assessing whether we have the perfect balance of strength and the desirable aesthetic of hyperextension.

Hello, everything that doesn’t actually matter.

Whenever we operate under these terms, we are inevitably either winning or losing the rat race.  When we believe we measure up we are floating on top of it all, but damn, when we believe we missed the mark the downward spiral is U.G.L.Y.

Rosamund Stone Zander and her husband Benjamin Zander co-authored a book, “The Art of Possibility,” (genius and an easy read if you ask me!) which unmasks the calculating persona we often hold and suggests living from our more central selves.  Rosamund eludes, “the calculating self exists in the world of scarcity and deficiency while the central self operates under conditions of wholeness and sufficiency” (83).

When we start to become aware of our calculating ways, the things that wreak of insecurity and of not having it all, we can start to operate with our central selves where we know that we live in a world of possibilities; we already possess everything we could ever need if we just choose to see the world through a more abundant, optimistically constructive, and (truthfully) more accurate lens.

In terms of dance, which I tend to see all of life be reflected, I can liken the calculating v. central self to the beloved it factor.  We all know the it factor – when we experience a performing artist – someone on stage who, for some reason or another, for reasons that seem impossible to define, we can’t take our eyes off of them.  They exude this special quality, this clarity, this pureness that is utterly irresistible.  The it factor is present when that person is being their most central self.  They are not performing from a place of not enough – not enough technical prowess, artistic competence, not enough stamina.  Or of wanting to be on the inside – wanting to be loved by the audience, their directors, the critics.  Or of measuring their perceived success – against their last performance, against their fellow dancers, against the company that graced the stage before them.  They are operating from a place of complete abundance and possibility.  There is nothing in that moment they can’t conquer, relish, and indulge in.  Even if a moment doesn’t go as planned, that newness brings a fresh possibility, an added flare to their performance, and an extra zing of excitement to their gut.  All of which captivatingly transcends to us as beholders.

Sometimes I love not knowing all the dance moves.  I take myself off the hook, a.ka. zero expectations (already a strike against the offensive calculating self).

During this past Parsons Summer Intensive, I was taking Elena d’Amario’s modern class, on the second day – so a large part of the combination was already taught and I was left playing catch up.  Crapola.  I was taking class with all the students from the intensive, who while they believed the pressure was on them to perform to their best, we believed as company members that it was our job to be as fabulous as expected, implying dancing at a high level of competence and retaining material without a glitch.  This was completely impossible in this situation.  Dancing a whole song, in which I only properly learned the second half, I was inevitably going to make mistakes.  But I didn’t care.  I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect and I knew I was only going to have the chance to do the combination that afternoon, and I was more than happy with those facts.  I had the best time performing my heart out, doing the moves I knew the best I could and either making up the parts I didn’t know (yes, making stuff up that feels right can be oh-so-fun) or doing the moves on the end of the beat as the rest of the group played to the top of the notes to jolt my memory.  I wasn’t concerned that my boss, colleagues, and students were watching me have a flaw-filled performance – because damn, I was having a good time.  In full disclosure, and fortunate for this moment, I had the privilege of being a part of the company for 5 years and did not feel the need to prove my worth and talent (hello calculating self).  Unfortunately, this was not always my mindset – although it should have been.  I worked for years, concerned about how David (my boss) and my colleagues perceived my movements and those moments only short-changed my experiences and my dancing.

And now I challenge non-dancing phenomenal women to embody their inner it factor.  Whether performing or not (and all life is a performance, is it not?! I believe Liza would agree), the it factor can shine when you are walking down the street in sheer utter bliss without a care in the world, feeling at your most free.  (Sometimes it’s with the best song in your ears, the sun shining with the slightest 73 degree breeze strutting Madison Avenue with your favorite outfit on, post-blow out.  But don’t be fooled, it can just as easily happen when you are caught in the rain, ruining your shoes, freezing cold, and left with nothing but your nearly-broken paper bag of groceries).  You become untouchable, unbreakable.  You are approachable and intriguing.  People take note of your glow.  It’s when out of nowhere you make friends with a stranger on the street.  It is when you are talking with someone you just had an argument with and you express yourself honestly, without accusing or disregarding the other’s actions or feelings.  It’s when you lead a meeting or give a speech and you are not concerning yourself with petty thoughts of your wrinkled shirt, patronizing eyes of those waiting on your words that are suppose to be of mind-shattering caliber, or whether or not you turned off your stove.  You are truly impassioned with your words of the moment and you feel so strongly about your message and its potential to enlighten and motivate others.

Stuff can happen in your performance or (if you insist…) day, that you don’t plan for and that can initially bring forth a feeling of “oh-crap,” but it need not.  If you think you need to change something in order to be completely fulfilled, your calculating self is wreaking its havoc as it loves to do.  The oh-so-wise Rosamund, suggests we inquire within ourselves as a means of finding our calculating ways:

What would have to change for me to be completely fulfilled?

Our answers often point to our insecurities and our calculating selves’ ruthless attempts of success, belonging, and control.  So boo-hoo!  If we don’t take ourselves so damn seriously, then those moments aren’t as colossal and therefore, can’t take us down.

So world, if you haven’t already noticed, a slew of women are laughing in the ugly face of control and are unleashing their most fabulous, it-moment selves right and left, so take heed…and don’t be blinded by their inner radiance!

Multitasking: is it taking over your dancing and life?!

Multitasking is our modern-day nature and pride.  Technology is continuously coming up with ways to make it easier to do anything and everything with such ease, and subsequently at the same time.  We can finally conquer all we desire each waking day because we have immediate access to the world at our fingertips (and now even our eyeballs:  google glass hitting Diane Von Furstenberg’s runway)!  False!  The readiness to multitask is a curse.  To multitask by definition reads, “Often used of humans in the same meaning it has for computers, to describe a person doing several things at once.”  Is this really something we want to do?  Do we want to operate the way a computer does?  Those machines burn out for crying out loud, and now, operating like them, so do we!  When we divide our attention we are not doing one thing well.  I find my ability to finish a blog post, get to class early to go over those moves I’ve been dying to perfect, choreograph that piece I’ve dreamt about starting, and pick up choreography swiftly all gets sucked away, minute by minute, to my quietly nagging iPhone that never lurks too far from my side.  And worse yet if it isn’t the technology itself, it’s my brain that now almost seems hard-wired to operate on over-drive mode, my mind constantly bobbing from thought to thought comparable to the Internet I have grown to adopt so openly.  My attention span and patience to sit with one idea sucks.  And why is “turning off” so damn hard?  When we dance, we strive for efficiency of movement – the only way we developpé our leg to our ear is if we only use the muscles we need and let the ones that prohibit our wishful concussion a back seat.  What is our potential for efficiency if we can streamline our thoughts, and release our “mental” hip flexors? …in the studio and in our lives?

Let’s start in the studio before we take on our lives, shall we?

How many times are we at barré and doing the combination with the teacher, except we don’t know what they are going to do?   We move our body and play mind-reader with someone we don’t know.  How effective is that?  Or worse yet, we move our hands when the exercise is ultimately done with our feet, while we also predict what this stranger will do.  Or my personal favorite – how often do we stretch our hamstrings, think about the rotation of our inner thighs from the exercise prior, concern ourselves about our weak something-or-other, our PT appointment that we have to run to directly after class, and contemplate our life’s purpose, all while our favorite teacher just gave a tendue combination?  Then we arrive in first position with our left hand on the barré and we think, “How the hell does this start?”  Maybe if we do one thing, say, listen and absorb the combination only, we will actually get the combo.  Then when we have a second later we can devote all our attention to stretching our hamstrings, rather than just hanging over a dead-leg thrown on a barré.  It is impossible to stretch effectively while  simultaneously learning movement.  It is impossible to get to PT while we do tendues.  It is stupid to concern ourselves with our next career move while we attempt mastery of our degaggé.  Our productiveness in all of these areas significantly improves if we absorb one piece of information at a time.

We  are looking at teacher without seeing teacher.  

Looking is not enough.  Seeing, focusing our undivided attention, brings our level of productivity up another notch.  We are capable of digesting a combination after seeing it demonstrated the first time.  Why not?  It’s just a series of tendues and pliés in a more or less predictable pattern that we’ve practiced for the majority of our lives.  The more we see, the quicker we absorb the combination.  Then when the teacher does it the second time (for those poor souls who were doing their to-do lists in their head the first time), we add a layer of artistry that takes our dancing to the next level.

Now when I play teacher, I do a similar version of this mental multitasking.  I can be teaching and simultaneously distracted with multiple thoughts.  “Is that how that next combination starts?  Is this musical selection working? Are people comprehending what I intended?”  This all takes me away from seeing each one of my dancers more clearly;  understanding how they work, what motivates them, what challenges them and why, what their tendencies are, and where their bodies hold tension.  Seeing my students allows me to help more on an individualized level.  One thought at a time brings forth a more articulate, perceptive, and productive teaching methodology.

And going a step further, when we learn choreography, how much do we see?   How much can we focus our attention on what is solely important at that moment to the person leading the room?  I can distract myself with thoughts of sequencing when I should take a step back and see that the choreographer isn’t stressing the exactness of steps at all.  Their vagueness shouldn’t be a source of frustration but something I can see, and then adopt in my learning style and subsequently my execution, to better suit the purpose before they give that correction.  And vice versa, as a choreographer, can we see how dancers learn the movement and guide them to see the integral essence being created?  If we distract our mind, there is no way we can possibly juggle this level of thought.  If we can’t get to this level of thought, we are missing out on a beautiful layer of depth and therefore, productivity and creativity.

Now if we aren’t already dying to get to this level of efficiency and attention in the studio, we should at least crave it to streamline our lives. Just think about how much time we can earn when we fully devote ourselves to work effectively on one thing at a time.   Limit distractions, delineate time to focus solely on one idea to see if it works before bouncing to the next one and not getting one solid thing accomplished.  We don’t need our iPhones, Gmail, or Facebook to write that term paper.   We can’t research new dance companies holding auditions and talk to our loved ones on the phone.  Odds are we yes them absent-mindedly or end up buying shoes off of Gilt instead.  It is virtually impossible to walk and text successfully.  I typically look like a drunkard.  It is more time efficient to stop, send a text, and then continue on walking.  Instead I insist on spilling my tea on myself, take about 5 blocks to text 3 words, and nearly break a toe while navigating uneven New York pavement.  (Hell, we need those toes!)  I can sit in front of the T.V. and eat dinner and then finish everything on my plate, and feel completely unsatisfied;  I didn’t taste my meal.  How many times do I have to re-read the same paragraph over and over again because I didn’t digest a lick of it?  I am too busy jumping thoughts, or paying attention to the cutie who just got on the bus.  How many times do I attempt to go to bed, but then keep checking my iPhone when the light goes off just to wake in the morning craving an extra half hour of sleep?  And for crying out loud, I don’t need my brain when I do the dishes.  Let’s turn off when we can so we can be refreshed when we do need our minds to work for us.

Let’s use technology when we need it and designate time for it, rather than have it cloud our lives at large.  We don’t need to respond to that text immediately.  Set new standards.  Spend time well, doing one thing at a time.  If we do one thing only, we feel more satisfaction from completing it whole-heartedly.  In turn, we gain some precious time to conquer those dreams that lie in our journals untouched.  We gain a deeper level of artistry.  We gain beautiful, unadulterated moments with our friends and lovers, granting them the full attention we all deserve.  Check out less and stay tuned-in more.   Look less and see more.   Kill mental and physical multitasking once and for all!!!

I attempted to check my iPhone 18 times while I wrote this.

I have 33 pending drafts of articles saved to my computer that I started to write but never finished.

Performance Pressures….bring it on!

Inspired by:
Rick Pitino, with Bill Reynolds
“Success is a Choice: Ten steps to overachieving in business and life”

….it’s been awhile since I’ve posted but here’s for some ruthless gumption!

My boyfriend (at the time….unfortunately a long story) lent me Rick Pitino’s “Success is a Choice” when I was craving a motivational, self-help if you will, read. I didn’t know what to expect from the former NY Knicks coach, but turned out his motivational mantras proved more than valid and helpful when applied in reference to dancing and working effectively within a dance company, which at times is absolutely a team or family. As I enter my second season with Parsons Dance, it is my upmost priority to make this season more fulfilling than the first. To take what challenged me, and make those weaknesses into my strengths, and to maximize my strengths to capitalize on what makes me special as a dancer. One aspect I wish to focus on here is performance pressure. As performers we’ve all had our moments where we feel these pressures seep into our bones, when the thought of convincingly moving those rattling bones becomes a much more daunting accomplishment than moments prior in rehearsal. In class and rehearsals, we can more easily tap into the glorious freedom of taking risks with movement and being fearless to make big mistakes and take a wipeout in lieu of finding where our physical limitations lie; these moments are exhilarating because we are pushing ourselves to our maximum. Performance can be exhilarating as well, when those limitations found by falling in the studio, can be trusted and so closely breached as we propel our body full throttle through space with the somewhat-calculated knowledge gained from hours of rehearsal. Most shocking however is, as a professional, this liberty of rehearsing specific works repeatedly to gain the confidence and full comprehension of how our bodies respond to each moment, simply doesn’t exist. Lack of funds, relates directly to the amount of rehearsal time allotted which relates directly to the feeling of preparedness prior to lights, costumes, and stage. I’ve been off-stage with only a single-hand of run-thrus under my belt, partner and all – “Slow Dance” this past summer is reminiscent – and forced to take this pressure and turn it into a positive influence and deliver a moving, elating experience for myself and the audience. Was I completely certain about every moment in the piece? No. We can never be entirely certain of a performance. It hasn’t happened yet; we don’t know what lies ahead. That’s life and what makes it exciting, unless we prefer to take this unknown and make it feel daunting instead. The choice is ours. Pressures exist, and thank god they do. They make us strive harder, longer, seeking finer details and additional nuances. If deadlines of performances and expectations of artist directors and fellow dancers didn’t exist and impose the feeling of wanting to be the best version of ourselves for them, we would be floating around in the blasé realm of mediocrity. And as far as I’m concerned, when we feel ourselves slipping into coasting mediocrity, which inevitably happens from time to time, we need to gratefully seize the opportunity to up the ante, set new goals, reach for higher sights.

So lets not feel negative pressure from the audience and those we wish to impress; that simply leads to stress and fear of failure – completely stifling. Failure is only an emotion we chose, not in definitive existence. Choosing to fear failure of certain moments within a piece, or not having the best performance, we are allowing those fears to take control unnecessarily. Instead lets use the pressure opportunity to see how far we can go. No two performances will ever be the same and this uncertainty is exciting.

So, easier said than done. How can we feel we have a grip on this pressure? For one thing, be confident in the moments we do know in a dance. Do our homework. Know every count, study a video, get into the studio and do some extra work to ease out the moments we don’t know as well or don’t feel as organic on our bodies. No rehearsal time with the rest of the company doesn’t mean we have to stop our work there and settle for not being as comfortable as we need to feel prior to a performance. Eliminate the uncertainties we have control over because other obstacles will always throw us for a loop in live performance – costume malfunction (Nasciemento skirt becoming untied and strings playfully doing another dance around my ankles), odd wings and back stage space (try an octagonal stage in FL with wings about two feet deep with 3 dancers hiding before a grand entrance), makeup running in our eyes (performing Envelope with my glasses pressed onto my face so hard my mascara runs and I’m forced to see out of one, barely open, blurry eye, which tends to happen on multiple occasions). Who says I’m talking from personal experience?? ; )

The performance is going to happen regardless. We choose to experience it trepidatiously or with an all-out vigor leaving no moment full expressed. Lets find trust in our work ethic and discipline. Performance is the prize for all those endless hours of rehearsal and class. So what if we’ve only rehearsal a dance 5 times before we perform it. We’ve had countless hours of dancing under our belt that prepares us to fly under this moment. So lets bring on the pressure and find out just what we are capable of; I bet we’ll surprise even ourselves.

(….gosh, even re-reading this serves as a helpful reminder!)

Can you train your body’s cells for more awareness of your performance space?

While in between reads, I often pick up Sandra and Matthew Blakeslee’s The Body has a Mind of its Own.   I was initially turned on to this book thanks to fellow dancer, Helen Hansen, and gratefully so because it’s entirely fascinating and relevant for professional movers.  Throughout this detailed account of the interwoven mind-body relationship, it sheds light on how our body maps operate and how understanding our body in space extends beyond our physical selves.  Body maps are what they sound like: your brain contains a map of your body’s surface with specific parts of your map synchronized with specific parts of your body. (7)

I just got off the 6 train and nearly missed my stop thanks to the chapter devoted to “place cells” and “grid cells.”  Yes, I was for a moment that obnoxious girl walking on the platform distracted with nose in book.  I like to believe because I’m a dancer with hopefully slightly more body awareness than the average being, I can handle this multi-tasking conundrum with relative ease.  Not always the case, but this time I made it home unscathed.  So what are place cells and grid cells?  “Place cells map the space around your body in terms of whatever environment you happen to be in” (130).   These allow you to situate yourself within a space relative to the objects around you.   Grid cells on the other hand “map space independently from your environment” (130).  This accounts for you knowing where your body is in space based on your own movements.  Superb athletes, Sandra and Matthew explained, have highly developed place and grid cells which allow them to have extremely detailed awareness of themselves versus other players in the game and open court/field opportunities.  Through familiarizing yourself with your performance space, can you enhance your performance experience?  I do often like to meander about the stage, run around, become accustom to the wing space, distance from the audience, feel of the floor in different places, the height of the ceilings, etc.  Prior to a performance I like to make myself as familiar as possible with the space to feel a sense of ownership and comfort while dancing movements under the unpredictable wrath of live performance.  Apparently, this urge holds actual purpose – acclimating and activating your place cells – rather than just a psychological one.  With this in mind now, I will actively introduce this into my future performance routine, perhaps taking more tedious care to acknowledge my surroundings.  Let’s see if it has any beneficial effects! In addition, being comfortable with the movements of the dance and the other performers with you on stage, educates your place cells and heightens your awareness further allowing for appropriate handle of the curve balls of live performance.  Note the ease and effectiveness of a tight-knit dance company performing familiar repertoire while on tour.  Definitely looking forward to this unity for in the upcoming season!

However, how can we better prepare ourselves for performances that are not as familiar in our body? Dancing professionally often means being on tour and performing on stages you are experiencing just hours before curtain as well as jumping into new roles and pieces on a whim.  This is where grid cells and having superb comprehension of your body in space comes in handy.  As dancers we have been training to move our limbs through space for a sufficient part of our lives.  I would imagine that by now, our grid cells are well adept.  Edvard Moser, a scientist at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology, believes we are born with our place and grid cells or they develop very early in our growth (132).

Can we strengthen our cells through constant rehearsal?   I like to believe so despite Edvard, because something tells me my place and grid cells could use some additional work.  I can’t help but recall a time when my grid cells were clearly out of whack.  It was my second Parsons performance of Remember Me when my first few 8 counts required me to chaine on stage from stage left to just beyond center mark and then stop on a dime to walk confidently downstage arms slapping the space in front of me directly towards the audience.  Well, the newness of the material, stage, and lights got the best of me, because as soon as I reached stage right of center and avoided hitting my partner Eric, who is spiraling directly at me mind you, I paraded my sorry butt upstage towards the scrim with complete conviction and gusto.  It only took about one or two steps before I recognized the black scrim was not quite the black haze of the audience and turned myself around like nothing ever happened besides my mental bewilderment of “did I really just do that?!”  What a way to kick off the piece, particularly when it’s David Parsons’ first time seeing you perform his work.  Priceless!  This seems like a prime example of my place and grid cells unable to adequately identify my body in space.  For the record, I am awful at recognizing my north-south-east-west unless I can identify at least one direction from an outside source.  Apparently there are people who innately know what direction they are facing.  Slightly jealous.  Sandra and Matthew claim once confused by cardinal directions, always confused since the cells themselves are confused (132).  Not looking too good for me.  I have slightly confused cells for sure!  This brings the golden rule of changing your position at the ballet barre to a whole new level.  I often change my spot at barre, but generally pick standing with my torso north and south (in the cardinal directions of the room) rather than east and west.  Think its time to start retraining my place cells!

I highly recommend The Body has a Mind of its Own for so much more than just this chapter.  If you are at all curious about how we make sense of our bodies in space from a scientific vantage point written in not-so scientific lingo, pick it up!

About to perform In the End on Friday in Maryland.  The Rouse theatre – a new theatre.  In the End – a new dance.  Come on cells, don’t fail me now!