Dancing Isis Dance !

I am exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. I have just returned from my second teacher’s workshop. What a precarious journey it is for me. To walk into a room full of people who have never danced is far easier than to work with a group of people who already dance and teach and to challenge their knowledge and their understanding of the dance.

Who am I to dare to do this I ask my self, boy do I have to search my soul for that answer. Am I for real. Can I really help them to have a better understanding of this dance, that to me is grossly misunderstood. Can I coax them out of their safety zone of familiarity into a completely new way of feeling, sensing, seeing what I believe to be the authentic source of movement. Am I really an example to them?

I feel some resistance and I feel the wonderment. I feel it like I can feel the unnecessary contractions of the muscles in the roof of my mouth as I forget to breath and grip my stomach, which is what I spent the weekend encouraging them not to do. I am but human myself. Did I remember to tell them that?

By four o'clock on Sunday I feel I have won most of them over. Some may go away and want to forget what they encountered and some may just forget to remember it till another day, a long way from this weekend. And some may take the challenge. Whatever - I know that something has shifted . . . Maybe we needed another day