Jarocha dancer

I was fortunate enough tonight to see a local dance troupe here in Xalapa, Veracruz, Mexico. They performed Veracruz folk dances in the style called Jarocho. My heart lifted watching the men and women dance together. The men were enjoying the dancing, deep into it and grooving. The women, so strong and powerful, were flinging their very feminine lacey skirts around with strength and style and grace. And the flirting! They performed the dance just as it is supposed to be – a courtship. The couples looked into each others’ eyes, the men firmly held the women’s waists, and the women sent smoldering glances under their eyelashes. When the men danced, the women cheered them on. When the women danced, the men cheered them on. And when they danced together, they whistled and shouted.
The jarocho style has a lot of banging on the heels, and I began to see how that sound was a like a drumbeat, like the zills , like shimmies – that it raised a sweet serpent of energy that whirled around the dancers and encompassed us, the audience.
I had tried to stand up on the balcony so that I could get a better view to film, but I ended up on the floor right in front of the dancers. And that is the best way to appreciate this dance. It pulled me in and danced me around. It made me think of why I love the dance gigs at Solstice Café or any of these other places where we dance right there at eye level with the audience – because it is less of a performance and more of a sharing, a drawing in. Tonight I was breathing with the dancers, my heels tapping away, feeling the sweetness as they looked at each other in this dance of courtship. It was ecstatic. I had begun the evening tired, and now I was energized, smiling, full of heart. I hope that is how people feel when they watch us dance.

Killian Mansfield

From a friend. Thanks Nina.

Killian Mansfield

When you play an instrument you figure out pretty soon that scales are one of the main ways to get better. All melodies are constructed from scales. There are different kinds of scales, but 99% of all the music ever played came from just a few scales. So at some point you have to commit to playing scales. You get a metronome and you start slowly, playing the same scale over and over in different positions. Over time something starts to happen. Your ear gets attuned to the sound of the scales on your instrument. You'll hear some guitar music and know instinctively where and how it's being played. You will think of a sound and know exactly where it is on your guitar. You can almost visualize it. Your ears have become attuned. Musicians call it your inner ear. "Man that guy has big ears" is one the higher compliments you can be paid. Could it be that meditation and chanting are like the scales of the instrument that is your Body/Mind? I'm looking to make my ears bigger.

performance and service

Thanks again to John for stimulating more thoughts on these matters. We were talking about performance, and I was reflecting on my priestessing activities. Of course, theater has its roots in religious rites, so in a sense all performance is, or could be, at its root sacred. But I suppose some of the difference is what one expects from the "audience". Performance implies that the audience watches and appreciates, just as I dance. In that sense, I don't see Priestessing as performance. When I lead ritual, I try to guide people to a place where they can have an experience with the Divine. Just as when I read Tarot, I view it more as a service than a performance because of the interaction with the participant.
Does that have any comparisons with music and performance Rick?

this is it

Mind grooves. And thanks to John Hardham for this first one. I've been thinking about the drop and the ocean, how I am the drop (ego-individual) and the ocean (collective). I'm fairly careful, though, about how I interact with the collective, and I wondered about my trepidation. Exploring it, I see that I get a little worried about getting carried away with the collective, because of course the collective doesn't really have my individual interest in mind. There is the beautiful side of that -- being moved, taken, swept away to someplace new. There is the side that causes me trepidation -- not knowing where I am going and how that will effect me, the individual. How does one give up oneself completely to the collective, to the ocean?