Out Of Your Head, And Into Your Dance Space

A couple of weeks ago I got an email from my friend and teacher Sharon, inviting me to join a new intermediate student troupe she’s putting together. As I’d sent her a long weepy email about The State Of My Dance Education just a couple of weeks before that, the news was most welcome. The new troupe is called Nomaditude and we had our first meeting last night before all heading out together to see inFusion do their monthly Capitol Club gig. Our first performance is in two weeks. Let me say that again, for those of you sitting in the back of class, not paying attention. My first tribal bellydance performance is in two weeks.

I am happy and scared and excited and nervous and everything else that comes with realizing a goal. I’m happy because performing is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and because I’ve felt very stuck in my dance life, much as I have in my writing life. One of the critiques Sharon gave me when I asked for some feedback was something that’s stayed with me since: Get out of your head, and into your dance space. Basically, stop daydreaming and worrying and focus on what your body is doing and saying, make sure each movement is controlled and intentional so that your diction, so to speak, is clear and meaningful. I’ve been working on that for the last two or three months and have noticed some difference but it’s hard to stay focused sometimes. I’ve been doing tribal for, uh, three years now? Four? I love the classes very much and am always trying to get better, but I’ve been very frustrated because I felt like I wanted to push myself and couldn’t figure out how. It’s cool to think that there’s a new dance space for me to grow and learn in, even if it’s just for a couple of weeks. It feels like a really big step, and it’s really nice timing that I can take it this spring.

I’m scared, though, because one of the reasons we’re performing in two weeks is because Sharon wanted to give me a performance opportunity before I leave, and this is pretty much it before crazy MedFest, during which I’ll probably be in New York visiting my dad and this pretty birthday girl. So we’ll have two rehearsals to practice together as a troupe. We all know each other from classes and have, most of us, danced together there, but…eeep. Actually, everyone else will have two rehearsals. I will have only one because I am going to a work conference thing in Phoenix next week. Fortunately, it’s improv and not choreography, so the, you know, years of classes will (I hope) pay off. It’s not necessarily the moves themselves that worry me…although now that I think about it maybe they should, as I have never really understood which way to turn in a ghawazi variation one….but dancing with people who haven’t danced very much as a group before. I think it will be all right, though. I can stay in the background if I have to. Also, it’s a hafla, which is a very very low-key performance venue. People bring their families and friends and a potluck dish and everyone claps and it’s really only a step above just a regular Monday night class, so very good for first-timers. This is what I’m telling myself, anyway. I happen to have houseguests that weekend, too, which is not great in terms of scheduling issues (I don’t know how we’re going to fit in all the laying around and snacking we have planned) but is very good in terms of having a solid base of clappers in the front row (confidential to houseguests: RIGHT?). Still, though, I’m nervous. A little. A lot.

I expressed this nervousness last night at the meeting. “I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to commit to this on my account!” I fretted. “Only two rehearsals! We have to make our costumes! And look like we know what we’re doing! And smile!” And…everyone was so nice and so calm. “We can do it!” they all said. “This will be great!” People started talking about what costumes will be like and what time we’re likely to go on and what to expect at the first rehearsal, just as if this is something that is not only within the realm of possibility but also something we all do because it’s fun and we like it, or something. “Everything is going to be ooooooooookkkkkkkkaaaaaaaaaaaaay, “said Sharon. Get out of your head and into your dance space, indeed.

Oh, and. And. When we got to the Capitol Club and started talking and watching our girls perform (at one point I leaned over to Denise and said, around a mouthful of baba ghanoush, “We know all of those moves!) I started really realizing how cool this is going to be. I know some of the women a little better than others but I like all of them very much, and they’re all good dancers who are just going to get better as they work together. I started to blubber a little, in between the first and second sets. “You guys are going to be so GREAT and I have wanted to do something like this for SO LONG and now I’m LEAVING and I know it’s not all about ME but you’re going to be so AWESOME and I’m going to be on the other side of the WORLD and what if I have to dance CABARET while I’m there and what if you are all too GOOD for me to dance with when I COME BACK and I don’t think I have any room in my pack for a pair of ZILS let alone SLASH LOONS and I MISS YOU GUYS ALREADY oh, hey, can we get another thing of pita bread? thanks WAAAAAAAAAH.”

It’s a wonderful opportunity to do something I love more the more I do it. It’s also another voice whispering to my heart, telling me to stay, making leaving harder and harder as the days slip by.