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Today, when I opened my e-mail, I got a notification that someone named David had sent me a gift from Groupon. David bought me a gift? How exciting! I too have bought us a few things on Groupon when an irresistible deal came along that offered entertainment for a song; a day of bowling, putt put golf, a weekend at a bed and breakfast, a full day’s boat rental. Recently, I even got us 30 bales of pine straw mulch for the yard. I opened the e-mail to see what he had bought, expecting a dinner out at a nice restaurant perhaps, or a day of paddle boarding. The message said:
 
Voucher for One-Year Gun Range Membership and One Day of Range Time with Safety Gear, Two Targets, One Box of Ammo, and Gun Rental from Take Aim Gun Range.

You know your boyfriend trusts you and is planning to treat you well if he is willing to put a gun in your hands with ammo and a year of training to assure you’ll be a good aim!

I found this gift more than a little funny. David is the most compassionate and graceful man I’ve ever met. He is environmentally conscientious, deeply considerate, a humanitarian, a stalwart liberal, and a true yogi. He lives by the teachings of the yoga sutras with Ahimsa (do no harm) at the core of his every choice and action. I simply can’t imagine this man with a gun in his hand any more than I can imagine him torturing small animals. He’s the kind of man who will get up without pausing in the conversation to swiftly grab a wayward bug on the porch and put the creature outside the door rather than step on it. Let me mention that he has also read (and line edited) my book, which includes a full chapter on my feelings and attitudes about guns, (and for the record, I’m rather vehemently opposed to them).

Yet knowing all this, David’s idea of a fun date for us is heading off to the shooting range to plow a few rounds into a target? Hummm…… 

I said, “Thanks for the gun membership, Honey. Um….. what possessed you to purchase such a thing? Do we have plans I don’t yet know about to take out an annoying neighbor? You thinking we might want to prepare for a Bonnie and Clyde impersonation so we can knock off a bank and retire sooner rather than later? Then there’s the fact that I’ve been pretty mad at my ex lately… do you really think it’s wise to put a gun in my hand, all things considered? ”

“I thought you’d enjoy shooting a gun as a new experience. I wasn’t looking at it as a political or humanistic statement, but more as an interesting chance to learn something new –you and I both love learning new things – so when I saw the groupon and the great deal offered, I thought, “Why not?”  Guns are really nothing more than another technology thing. Like all technology, they’re only dangerous if put in the wrong hands.”

He also reminded me that one of the primary customers he designs computer program marketing for happens to be the biggest firearm distributor around, and it wouldn’t hurt for him to understand the company’s product experientially rather than academically. He said that almost everyone around his office has gone to the shooting range and they all say it is a remarkable experience.
 
He added, “There’s also the fact that knowing how to shoot a gun, experiencing the power and sound and noting your emotional response, will no doubt give you something compelling to write about.  Last but not least, learning to handle a firearm is an important skill. The fact is, if we are ever going out on an overnight trip on a boat or if we ever choose to live somewhere remote, we will want to have a gun just in case. Knowing how to use one properly is important for your safety.  But mostly, I was just thinking it would be fun and different.”

Well, fun and different is certainly important…. and the fact that I’m with someone who worries about and constantly considers my health and safety always touches me deeply. 

So this summer, in addition to taking a drawing class and learning to play guitar, I’m gonna be a yogi packin’. Leave it to David to take something that could be aggressive,  invasive, or politically questionable, and turn it into yet another opportunity to reinforcing my feelings that, with him, I’ll always be loved, cherished and protected.

Thanks to David’s sense of adventure, summer will be a blast…. if I don’t shoot myself in the foot.
 

    
New Brighter color….
   
The color Mother Nature (who is supposed to know best) likes…..


  Everyone wants me to be a redhead. My staff, my friends, my fiancé, my daughter, my mother (most of all) – everyone.

    Everyone except Mother Nature, that is, because she’s decided it’s time for the old girl to fade into the land of blond-ish red. Despite my best intentions and sincere efforts to keep my hair color true to its former (younger) red splendor, the sun and my older textured hair just won’t get with the program. I can color my hair any shade of red I want, but within a few days, its back to the natural strawberry blonde shade as if my pillow is made of bleach. When I garden or do anything outdoors, I instantly lean to blonde. Meanwhile, people are convinced I’m lightening up on purpose, going for some funky platinum, streaked look. 
  
   They all say, “The strawberry color is beautiful, but really, I miss the red. The brighter color suits you best.”

    I will never understand how a color from a bottle “suits me” better than the natural evolution of my hair as age settles in. Ah well. I guess when you are an authentic redhead all your life, people associate the color to your personality and anything quieter seems a bit off base.

    I’ve been spending time outdoors with gardening, our retreat and such, so my hair has gotten very light lately. And everyone has mentioned it. They drop subtle (or not so subtle) hints that I’m blonder than I should be. Frankly, I like my hair red too, but I’m all for letting my hair do what it wants naturally. I rather not get too wrapped up in fighting the natural process of ageing – to me there is nothing more unbecoming than a woman in her 50’s acting like she’s some  20 something wannabe, wearing jeans and clogs and trying to be sophisticated-cool in her speech and manner. I rather celebrate my age with class (not to be confused with becoming dowdy or lacking style…) Let me work with nature and grow older with my own attractive style, rather than be in desperate self-denial where, because I’m not fat and I throw on a 70’s jeans jacket, I believe my 50 looks like 35 to everyone else. (People that believe they look much younger than they are always seem naïve to me. People tell me that I look 40, or that I haven’t changed at all since they saw me ten years ago, all the time, but I don’t buy it. Our skin, our eyes, and our wisdom reveal our maturity, no matter what we wear or how we manage to exercise, tuck, or dye parts of us to keep the status quo on the surface.)

    I’d say at least 50% of the people I know my age all believe they look younger than everyone else their age – but what I believe is happening is we all look younger than our parents looked at this age. Our generation is so hung up on youth we ACT younger and live less conservative lifestyles, and this convinces us that our 50 is like 35. Ha. We might look well-preserved and great for our age, and we may cling to a bit of immaturity so our world doesn’t don’t resemble our conservative parents, but still, we all look our age –we just look 50 for what a 50 year old in 2012 looks like…

Despite that speech, I also realize that if so many people mention that I should be red, there might be something to it and perhaps, I should listen – at least a bit.

Yesterday I decided to listen.

    Albertsons, the grocery store closest to my home, is going out of business. Everything in the store is 50% off. David keeps stopping by on the way home from work to get things he finds at bargain prices that he thinks we can’t live without – real necessities, like a dozen cans of clams or 600 wooden skewers for shishkabobs – we now have enough skewers to last the rest of our lives – and boy am I relived I’ll never have to worry about sishkabob deficiency.

   Yesterday, he told me he picked me up some hair color too.

    I said, “YOU picked up hair color for ME? How do you know what kind or color to get?”

    He said, “I’ve seen the box after you’ve colored your hair, so of course I know what brand and color you use. That stuff can add up and since all the hair products are on clearance, I figured you might want to stock up. I got you the color you use, and also the color you’re supposed to be.”

    “What do you mean the color I’m supposed to be? Do you mean the color you want me to be? ”

    I have never heard David say an offensive thing to or about anyone – he is a model of class and respect for others, so he was quick to back pedal and assure me that he loves me as I am and always will – blonde, red, gray, or bald…. He was only trying to help out by picking up hair color for me. (Of course, I knew that. I was only teasing him.)

    He shrugged innocently. “Remember, I see you where the sun don’t shine, so I know the true color of your hair, or at least the color God designed for you, so I thought it would be natural to go back to that color. It’s your authentic state, so why not…..”

  Hummm…….

    Now, I know from experience that if I go with any of the copper or bright red dyes, my very porous hair will come out looking like I took a magic marker to it. It will be bright. Really bright. But only for a day or two, because then it will turn back to strawberry blond, like it or not. So it is not like I’m taking some risk of ruining my hair if I color it bright red on a whim. I keep telling my mother, my staff and others that for all I know they want me red, give it up. It’s a losing battle. But today I thought what the heck…. I marched into the bathroom with David’s L’Oreal copper red hair color and did the deed just to make everyone happy. I figure I’ll be the redhead they all know and love for a few days, and when my hair returns to its equilibrium color, I can show them all that my being blond-ish isn’t because I’m not responsive to their preferences.

    As expected, my hair came out bright with some areas flashing copper and others seeming more auburn.

    When I picked Neva up from school, she lifted her eyebrows and said, “Wow, Mom. You’re red. It’s crazy sexy looking. It doesn’t seem right….. Moms are not supposed to be sexy…..”

     “Never fear, I’ll be back to strawberry blonde in about three days.”

     “It’s streaky. Wildly red in some areas, more normal in others. What is that all about?”

    “That is how my hair responds to really bright red dye. I can put the product on equally, but drier areas suck the color in and other areas, where the gray is starting to show, are resistant. Takes a day or two for the color to settle. By next week, I’ll be back to my all over blond-ish red.”

      “David is gonna love it. You look dramatic and younger and … actually, I really like it…. In fact, you should keep it that way,”

    Of course she feels that way. She’s used to kids at her school with purple hair or tuti fruity stripes. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to…”

    “People are going to be surprised when they see it at the studio today… You are really RED! Like a movie star. “

    “You don’t think I’m going to work like this. I’m putting it up.”
     She laughed. “Yea, I don’t blame you.”

     I sent David a picture. Of course, he responded favorably. One of the loveliest things about him is that he is genuinely happy when I make even the smallest gesture to please him. He appreciates appreciation, if that makes any sense. And I swear, all men share a fantasy about lusty, passionate redheads… they say blondes have more fun, but it’s the redheads that get the male second-take looks. And just to prove it – I’ll add a picture that was sent to me by an artist I dated before meeting David. This was his perception of how I look (or the way he liked to imagine me….)
 after he color corrected a picture he took from my facebook page.
 
Really. 

    Anyway, the hair color incident isn’t at all about me trying to please others, or proving a point, or trying to look exotic or fighting Mother Nature. 

     I just keep imagining David in the hair product aisle, picking up different boxes of color and contemplating which ones he thinks I’ll appreciate and use, then spending his own money on the product to help me stretch my very tight budget. I imagine what went through his mind as he pictured me with each color, and his thoughts as he left the product on my sink, the chance he took that, instead of appreciating his gesture, I might have twisted the meaning into his wanting me to change, rather than proof he is a man who constantly takes giving and consideration to a whole new level.  

My hair will fade overnight, but my awareness and the marvel of David’s genuine and endless acts of caring are permanent……..

     

I received a very special gift from David on mother’s day, two colorful lovebirds that are sitting on 5 eggs. The babies are due to hatch in about 10 days. I can’t wait! It’s been a long time since I’ve had what I will call “exploratory fun with nature”. Oh, how I miss the simple joy of interacting with nature as it unfolds under my observation and care. My time in Georgia had plenty of sadness on the personal level, but at my barn, as I raised a baby horse, a baby llama, hatched peacocks and ducks by hand, learned about chickens and goats, cared for my donkey, and tried training horses etc…… I was touched in ways that changed me forever. My anticipation of hand feeding baby lovebirds brushes against that authentic place inside that  makes me feel deeply alive and connected to the world.
     Every day I come face to face with evidence that a person doesn’t have to be retired or living on 50 acres to have a rich, natural life.  I feel such a sense of promise as I realize I can feel the amazing sense of contribution I get from building a business at what I love, can provide an quality life for my daughter (and myself) in a place that offers art, opportunity and diversity AND my life also can include animals and gardening and hiking and kayaking and the sea and open country, and cooking and writing… David can build things and follow his interests and at the same time, he continues to work and plan for our future. We are busy and overworked and worried about money, but still, each day we ease closer to the life I’ve always known was possible if a person just recognized and appreciated the vast opportunity available in a diverse place like Sarasota. The point is, as my life takes shape again, I couldn’t be happier to see just how expansive and fulfilling can, and will, be.

I suppose an explanation of how we came to find brooding birds should be shared.

I currently have a beloved Hahns Macaw pet. He is the smallest breed of Macaw parrot, and the brightest. A tad bigger than a conure, these birds are not loud or obnoxious and they are easily trained and gentle by nature, so they are sought after as pets. I began looking for a bird to adopt from bird rescue months before taking the plunge. I often browsed the internet just for the entertainment of it – dreaming –  wanting a new pet – but I knew I should hold off until I got out of my small apartment and could afford to care for the bird properly. For fun, I perused craigslist to view the tons of amazing deals there for rehoming birds. Parrots live anywhere from 30-99 years so, of course many people find themselves in situations where they their lifestyle no longer is conducive to a bird. Because they are attached to their pet, they sell the bird for enough money to assure only a responsible, established person can afford to take them on. Still, they let the birds go for much less than a pet store would charge. After months of looking (when I knew I was finally moving to a house) I started shopping in earnest. I was leaning towards an African Grey and was negotiating to buy one when I saw the ad for the Hahns Macaw. I liked the idea of a smaller, smarter bird, and unlike regular Macaws, Cockatoo’s or Amazon parrots, finding a Hahns Macaw on Craig’s list was rare. So, I drove to Tampa to get my bird. He only cost me fewer than 200, when normally these breeds are between 600-700 dollars – a great deal.  (And there is a poignant story behind how and why I bought a bird at all, but I will save that for another time.) 

Anyway, I named the bird Whynot, and I adore him.
 
The thing is, I work often and I worry that some days he is lonely, so when I have free time, I browse Craig’s list just to see what is out there thinking that someday, when the right bird is available, I might just take the plunge again and get him a companion.  I’ve been looking at sun conures since that breed is close in size to my mini, knowing it is unlikely I’ll find another Hahns macaw. Since it is fun to window-shop, I started looking at lovebirds too, and low and behold, the other day I see that a man right near me is selling two fisher lovebirds with their cage and five eggs they are sitting on – all for  only 75.00! Of course, it is the eggs that pulled at my heart strings.

Naturally, I was curious about how people go about raising lovebirds, so I watched some YouTube videos of lovebird hatchings and saw how to train, feed and care for lovebirds. I read about raising and breeding lovebirds to see how much sleep a person would lose if a mother bird didn’t do her job, and I wondered if a person did or did not have to hand feed them. Once I had enough information to understand what breeding lovebirds involved, (they take care of themselves if you choose not to get involved – kinda like chickens) I started thinking how much I would love a new project like that.

I mentioned how interesting it all seemed and how the idea of raising baby birds again awakened this primal feeling of happiness that I lost when I left my dreams behind in Georgia, and David  instantly said, “Let me buy them for you as a mother’s day present. It will be fun.”

He had already taken Neva and I out to lunch. He cleaned my car (twice thanks to a trip we made to visit his Mom and the lovebugs that were in our path). He bought me a beautiful card and we were all going to a movie later that night for Mother’s day, so he certainly didn’t need to do anything else to make the day wonderful. But, unable to resist the offer , I made the call. Ten minutes later, we were at the seller’s very interesting home to pick up the birds. The seller looked to be in his 50’s, and seemed extremely nice. He is in a band and he had about 16 guitars, (some vintage, collector’s items, and some state of the art, common guitars) hanging all over his walls. His home was eclectic and artistic with a big Tikki bar on the porch designed with bird perches and a beer keg running right through the wall of his home to an indoor fridge. I could see David’s mind spinning as he ran his hands along the lacquered top and checked out how the inviting bar was made, viewing the roof and supports and reengineering it in his mind. (We have some big aspirations for our home and often discuss the many directions we want to go to make our outdoor living space more inviting and conducive to entertaining….)

 The man had a big amazon parrot in one corner, the lovebirds were in another. He explained that he gotten the lovebirds two years earlier on Father’s day (so passing them to a mother on mother’s day seemed perfect).  They are called Leila and Paco. Since the beginning, he let his birds roam free. Recently, they were missing, and he found them under a shelf on a bookcase nearby sitting on a nest they had built. The female had laid 5 eggs and was brooding.The guy said he would love seeing babies hatch, but he was not up for the responsibility, so he put them on craigslist that day because he thought it best to let them go to someone who would be into the project. He was thrilled to hear my history with raising birds, even though I admitted I had zero parrot experience so he probably shouldn’t be so quick to trust me with this responsibility. We talked a while about what might happen if we moved the eggs, but finding them a new home seemed in the best interest of both the birds and the humans involved, so we loaded the nest into a shoebox that we hoped would assimilate her current breeding space and loaded the birds into my car.

The man not only gave us the birds and cage, but threw in a bird stand for the porch – something David was just getting ready to build for Whynot this week (and still might since his version will no doubt be more involved).Within ten minutes we were home and the new birds were fully set up on the porch. It couldn’t have been easier.

Sure enough, the mother and father both were curious about their new situation, so they came out of the nest to explore. I waited with bated breath, hoping they would return to their job of caring for the eggs. I’d feel horrible if, by moving them, 5 potential baby lovebirds didn’t make it. Neva wanted me to force the mother to stay in the nest, but I assured her that instinct would kick in (of course, I wasn’t sure, just praying…)

About ten minutes later, the mom went into her shoebox for the night. Bingo! We went to the movie, confident that all was in order, and when we returned, both the mom and dad bird were in the nest, caring for the eggs.    

Now, I have a few weeks to learn about lovebirds. I plan to let the mom & dad feed the babies for three weeks until the young birds feather and are substantial enough to be handled easily, and then I will take over the hand feeding for the next three weeks to be sure the birds are very people friendly and trainable. I look forward to getting Neva involved too. The longer she is here, the more her interest in nature and the environment is rekindled. She often visits my garden now. She has taken a serious interest in photographing wildlife, and she has even asked me if I’m up for a new bunny. (Umm…..not at this time.) Together, we are reclaiming the joys and connections that we shared during our wonderful years in Georgia together. There are a million reasons why this means the world to me – primarily because I see my daughter growing up with expansive interests and an awareness in ecology and the environment once again. She is becoming a woman of substance who is interesting and aware and curious about the world, and I couldn’t be prouder. 

So, here we go… we are wading into the shallow waters of a new animal adventure… I’m going to raise lovebirds. David and Neva are on board. Fun! 

Meanwhile, it is going to rain today. Hard. I went out and harvested some veggies from my garden this morning and deadheaded my flowers so the rain can nurture the best of the plant. Growth is everywhere….. in the garden and beyond. (But from this picture, obviously, not in the grass…. um… that is another project on the “to do” list…..). But today is for making soup, sitting on the porch with coffee to watch the new birds peek out of their nest, and to enjoy the rain while I do some business planning on a yellow pad. Nice to have some quiet time at home before going in to teach later…. 
Life is all about balance…..
  

(If reading about my business interests doesn’t appeal to you, consider skipping to the end to enjoy the fun pictures of last week’s retreat!)

 The most wonderful element of my work is that my business feels like a living, ever-expanding, creative entity.  New doors are constantly being opened as I heed inspiration and explore new ideas for growth in an effort to diversify and become solvent as a new, struggling enterprize. I keep reminding myself that my most successful endeavors began as nothing more than the seed of an idea, that tended with a bit of research, muscle and focused effort, flowered into a fascinating limb of my overall work life. In my former business, the preschool, the newsletter of Creative Dance Concepts, Kiddance teacher’s training & the syllabus , aftercare programs, buses, Children’s Dance Center, etc… were all born of small ideas that I couldn’t help but pursue, hoping they would manifest into something that would make a contribution to our overall professional survival. Seeking new, creative means to keep us financially solvent enough to raise a family of five on a little dance school income led to consistent growth and change, which meant there was always a new challenge and learning curve to deal with. At least we never felt stagnant or trapped in the same dull circle of business activity. I always have and always will love the endless potential for personal and professional growth that comes with owning a business.
      My current dance/yoga studio has provided me with the same sort of endless possibilities for creativity as I enjoyed in the past. I’ve done what I can to keep the positive elements of my former dance program intact, but I’ve added Yoga to the dance mix this time around. Yoga has opened amazing new doors, leading to aerial yoga and teacher’s training. I’m still trying to create a hybrid program of yoga and dance for young people to meet the needs of our changing society, and I dream of creating young artists who are as emotionally balanced as they are well trained. But dance has been hard to get off the ground this time around. I have quite a few young dancers, and  the numbers are growing. Eventually, my young program students will grow to be dynamic dancers, but it will take time.Most people are resistant to change and they challenge any new approach to training because they don’t trust the unfamiliar. 
    This same resistance was the case with my children’s program. When we first introduced the commercially driven creative movement program everyone said, “That’s not real dance. Dance schools have always taught little children’s classes differently and your way isn’t traditional, so it must certainly be wrong.” I was ostracized for the music, the syllabus, and the theatrical effects that were part of the program . But results speak for themselves, and in time, no one was denying the merit of the program. Now, years later, everyone is using the system and the method is considered mainstream. Sometimes I envy the people who ease into business in the wake or those who were the forerunner of new ideas – but I guess, given a choice, I prefer the struggles of being a leader rather than being a carbon copy of someone else’s vision.
   Anyway, diversifying my business is a little like throwing darts and seeing what hits. Adding new programs or services means I’m always investing IN my school rather than taking anything OUT, which I can little afford to do in my position, but pursuing many threads makes every day at work fascinating and filled with possibilities for the future.
  Still, there are only so many hours in a day and only so much energy in a body. So I’ve been carefully trying to expand the reach of my business to include areas that will provide income without it being as draining of time or physical energy as teaching can be . 
     I found a company in Bali to make me yoga swings with the ReFlex label which I sell at my aerial training workshops, in my studio and on e-bay. I’m working on developing an aerial yoga training website with David where people can get on-line aerial yoga certification – this project involves a huge amount of effort upfront, but would be something that would give back later without huge demands of time or physical energy. I figure the more my work life balances out with extra sources of income, the more I can devote myself to the things I love that don’t make money – such as offering scholarship dance programs or working with special needs kids or giving workshops to aspiring writers. And I still crave time to write my own books or garden or to do whatever calls to my heart while providing for my family financially – so I need to balance the needs of my work-life with my private life.
   The other day, while handing David his morning cup of coffee, and I said, “Honey, I know we are stressed for time and energy, but I’m thinking of creating an import business on the side of my current business. I would love to create an entire on-line store with yoga accessories (beyond aerial swings), with mats, jewelry and original t-shirts and other things. I don’t have cash to invest up front, but if I keep rolling everything I make on swings into new products, over time I ‘ll have a full store. It means hard work and sacrifice now, but less work & sacrifice later. How do you feel about that?”
    I expected him to sigh and be annoyed, because the concept will no doubt create work for him since he helps me with website design and bookkeeping and all things technical (which is the bulk of setting up this idea). He has a full time job and yet teaches a few yoga classes for me in the early mornings and he helps with my accounting & studio maintenance too. The man has dreams and special interests of his own, so I’m deeply aware that every time he devotes time to one of my projects, he’s stealing time from his own. I fret over this because my ex used to be totally put out and resentful when I pushed the envelope of our business. The man loved the financial rewards of my ambition, but hated having to contribute to the work required to put ideas and concepts into action , and years of his complaining and acccusing me of creating work for him has me conditioned to feel guilty and apologize whenever I want to do something that requires help in any way. Luckily, David’s reaction to my ideas is totally different.
   He just smiled and said, “I think that would be fantastic. I can set up drop shipping and create a secure website. I’ll look into the cost of warehouses in the area if you want to do any of the shipping from here. I’d love to design some aerial shirts to sell on the site. And maybe after we get an online store going, we can do a trip to Asian to set up some import contracts in person. This will be a
big project and it will take some time, but once it’s set up, we could live anywhere and maintain the site, so if life throws us any curveballs regarding your studio surviving or my job not being secure, or if we ever want to retire to a desert island or something, we’ll always have this side business to contribute to livelihood. I love the way your mind works.”
      I let out a sigh of relief.    Building my business used to be like swimming upstream against a powerful current. With David, hard work is still hard work, but building a business feels more like I’m floating with the current. The ride is choppy, often I feel one step away from drowning, but at least I don’t have to feel badly about wanting to pursue opportunities to build a future, and hopefully retire someday. Huge difference when it comes to my being able to work happily. 
 
     Anyway, now, I am diving in, heart first, into yet another project. Retreats. I have always wanted to travel. I love teaching yoga and meditation. And I absolutely love teaching writing & journaling (been diligently putting my MFA to use by offering free classes and workshops for two years now at the Friendship Center, and small low cost writing courses at ReFlex and St. Pete Yoga to hone my skills as a writing teacher. I’ve developed into quite a good writing mentor, or so I’m told by some very appreciative students.) 
  Anyway, putting together retreats means I can combine everything I love (and everything I’m well trained to do) into one wonderful week of teaching and travel. So, I’ve been doing research, crunching numbers, studying successful retreats on the market, and thinking through the pros and cons of putting together a writing/yoga retreat that will be unique from others due to the various experience and talents David and I can bring to the table. I’ve found some amazing locations (one in Costa Rica, one in Belize, and one in Ireland) and I’m currently working on a business budget, researching marketing avenues and all the other details that must be attended to in order for the dream to manifest into something tangible and realistic.

As I work on business plans, I send them to David for feedback. He takes the ball and runs with it, sending me his research on the foreign exchange rates, cultural issues I might want to consider, seasonal weather, or travel details – He is enthusiastic – willing and ready to be a part of retreats as both a teacher and coordinator. His enthusiasm and positive energy spurs me on. We both love travel, exploring different cultures, writing and yoga. Retreats are a way we can have shared adventures while working in an areas we love, and we get the bonus of interacting with wonderful people too.  And he makes me feel appreciated and admired for my efforts to contribute to our financial situation, and positive reinforcement like that always takes the frustration out of working hard.  

Anyway, as I began working to design a week long retreat in a foreign country, it occurred to me everything I’m planning is theoretical rather than based in experience, and that is risky. It would be smart to do some test runs here at home to play with ideas so I have evidence of what works and what doesn’t.  A few one day retreats at home would allow me to explore what it is like to work with David too. If we want to pull off an event together, we need to know how tasks will be divided and see if we can work in harmony under pressure. It is easy to sit on a couch and talk about grand ideas – another thing altogether to test if each of us can make the sacrifices and share the stress and effort involved. So, with only two weeks’ notice, I told David I was planning a retreat, and I outlined the things I hoped he’d contribute. I created a flyer, found a location, did some marketing, rented a pavilion at Myakka & boats, planned a day of activities, and put the event “out there” to see what would happen.

Twenty people joined us (Well, only 17 because you can’t count David, me and Neva). The people who attended had a great time, got much needed inspiration and rest, and David and I learned everything we needed regarding how we work together. I’m now planning four more day retreats at ReFlex in the coming year, as well as some long weekend retreats at a few Florida destinations, and perhaps even a night retreat to star gaze. Yoga under the moon, a bon fire, good conversations… I imagine an evening retreat when Florida is too hot to do yoga outdoors during the daytime would be great fun.

Sometimes you open a door and step through and it leads you someplace wonderful with a thousand new options to explore. Other times, you find a door leads you to nothing but a closet and you feel trapped, so you get out there pronto. Retreats look to become a door to many more doors.   

I will share a few pictures of our first retreat– because, as they say, a picture says more than a thousand words. The event was hard work, we only broke even, and it took a great deal out of us considering we were beginning from scratch and supplies had to be bought, made or collected– but it was worth the time and effort. We took notes regarding how we’d do things differently and created a “retreat trunk” filled with materials we now have to use for ll future retreats. Our first retreat was a research project, and the first of building blocks to many future events.
      If you have to work like crazy (which circumstances have made necessary for me at this stage of life), nothing compares to working outside in beautiful nature and doing what you love with people you love. I’m grateful for the opportunities I have to live a creative life. And I’m grateful that I’m not alone in the endeavor to rebuild my life. 

So… here is my retreat pix ……We began with outdoor practice to the sounds of birds and early morning breezes.


We set up a table with art supplies and nature & art journaling books (I have dozens). I hoped people would browse a bit, but the actually poured over the materials and tried their hand at leaf rubbings an nature art, then perused my 30 pages of journling prompts (I have been compiling these materials for a while now.)  and they went to small corners of the park to write, contemplate or try the exercises. It was so lovely….
 
 
We set up aerial swings on the grounds and decorated the area with inspirational signs with quotes from Throeau and Emerson. I had readings prepared from moving transcendental literature for guided meditation. David designed a rope system that protects the trees  and makes it simple to hang swings from any height. We can take them anywhere now….
 
 

After David barbecued veggie burgers for our all vegetarian cleansing lunch (I made pasta salad, a salad bar, fruit, nuts, granola bars, sun tea etc… we all explored the park. Some enjoyed photographing the grounds or found nooks for quiet contemplation.  Everyone visited the canopy walkway to enjoy the view 75 feet above the forest.  
 


In the afternoon, we all met at the lake for a canoe lesson from David. He taught paddling as a metaphor for life (you must work with your partner, expecially when the current
makes the trip temporarily tough . There was beauty all around, laughter … and alligators!

    

 

But the most fun, was our Buddha trail. My daughter and a yoga teacher friend went into the woods and hid 13 buddhas in the trees and underbrush of a hiking trail. Our guests walked  the trail for a mindful exercise, seeking buddha in nature. They paused to write or draw what they witnessed. And others hiking Myyaka enjoyed the Buddha trail too and thanked us for the fun. It was memorable…
 
 
 

Peace and wisdom is easy to find if you just train yourself to see clearly and pause to appreciate the small things that make you smile. As I say to my yoga students all the time….. that is a lesson you can take off the mat and into your life! 

This weekend (after a few morning classes at the studio on Saturday) will be the first I’ve had off in months. My weekends have been tied up with  yoga training, begining my own training in a yearlong 500 hour program that I had to juggle along with weekends devoted to the first RYT-200 program I taught at ReFlex (a killer schedule). When that was over, I immediately jumped into teaching my second RYT-200 program. My 2nd batch of beautiful yoga students graduated this week so at long last, I have 8 weekends off before my next summer immersion session (which involves 20 hour 3-day weekends EVERY weekend for ten weeks.) Meanwhile, on the rare weekends I might have had off, I’ve hosted three aerial yoga training weekends. I’m preparing now to add Chair yoga training to my offerings this summer. But Sundays are free now, even though I have to direct my attention to my upcoming recital now. Even so, I will be able to fit in a bit of beach time or kayak time, or writing. Sundays will be for personal pleasure for a while! Yea!
     But I’m not complaining. I absolutely love my work. People who want to get more involved in yoga are amazing, and these weekends, while long, are filled with poignancy, laughter, health, insight and meaningful conversation. Every time I guide a discussion, I learn as much as I teach, and studying yoga philosophy and physiology continuously continues to lead me deeper into self-understanding and wisdom.  Top that off with the fact that I feel a deep sense of contribution in my work and it is no wonder I’m willing to lose my weekends to live my personal dharma. People tell me the program alters their world and causes huge paradigm shifts in their life. I am deeply proud of that. Yoga is life altering –I’m the perfect case in point.

From the moment I decided to take teaching yoga seriously, I knew I’d wind up involved in teacher’s training. I’ve been teaching teachers in the dance field for years, and people have long told me I have a gift for inspiring others and putting information in easy to understand ways. Since putting together educational programs is a part of how my brain is hardwired, I spent the bulk of my time in my own yoga training assessing the program, thinking about worked and didn’t (for me) and what I would do differently. And when I sat down to consider designing a teacher’s training program of my own, I spent hours considering all the weaknesses in my own yoga education and I tried to come up with solutions to help others come out feeling more prepared to tackle the huge subject of yoga.

So I studied. I took classes, read a million books, got my higher certification, asked for guidance from a seasoned professional regarding how to handle the red tape of Yoga Alliance accreditation, struggled over a defined syllabus preparation, and 9 months later , was ready to dive in as director of ReFlex’s first program. It took all I have in me to keep ahead of the students and not fail them in any way, but the work paid off. I am deeply proud of the program at ReFlex, which is swiftly gaining a great reputation. My enrollment is bigger than the RYT program at schools who have been established for many years in this area and I’m just getting started.

My approach to yoga training is very down to earth, takes a broad view of yoga and is in many ways unique, though due to the stringent guidelines of Yoga Alliance, I cover all the traditional material. Wanting to circle the elephant to get a strong understanding,  I begin with a study of what yoga is (myth verses science) and then we study yoga history and the commercialism of yoga and how its popularity impacts the purity of the practice. We also study yoga styles in a comparison analysis so my teachers have a broad understanding of yoga in its many forms. We learn about Kundalini, Bikram, Ashtanga, Iyengar,  Anusara, and we explore hot yoga, yin yoga, restorative yoga and other popular classes.  Then we move  on to anatomy (thank God for David, because he and my dear , amazing friend, Cinde Carroll, cover this subject with slide shows, skeletons and lectures & practice (since I couldn’t possibly do the job decently) in a 20 hour workshop that covers bones, muscles, lymph system, physiology and theory. It is ten times more involved than what I received in my own training, an amazing study of the science of yoga.. Every experienced yoga teacher who works for me agrees, because every one of us feel our education in the area of anatomy was thrown out there too quickly to digest.) After we understand the body we begin breaking down every yoga pose so teachers learn not just how to do a pose correctly, but why, when and who should do it, as we study the cause and effect in the body. My students also study the Chakras, get Reiki trained (level 1) and spend hours studying and discussing the yoga sutras and personal intentions. Then I try to throw in fun extras, such as a 3 hour journaling course, a evening of Kirtan music and chanting, a meditation day, an outdoor retreat day and one weekend devoted to aerial yoga certification. There is no down time or busy work in my program. It’s all information overload and experimental learning! And at the end, the students each teach a (free to the public) class that they have to prepare themselves, and I give them feedback and an assessment.  As I write this I think it’s no wonder I’m tired. I cram more into one training course than most aspiring teachers could get in years of study.
  Anyway, the program continues to get more defined as it evolves to become what I consider a strong foundation for a yoga teacher.
  And now, I’m working on accrediting the school and thinking through a more involved program so I can offer a RYT 500 program for more advanced studies next year. I already have people waiting and eager to take the next level course, but before I will be  ready to do justice to the job– there is more to learn and plan. I am studying prenatal yoga and yoga therapy and ayurveda etc…  Small steps, ya know. And of course, I’m hot on the trail of preparing and offering a children’s yoga training course. It’s a natural fit considering my dance background and Guidance etc……… If only there were more hours in a day….

Anyway, I thought I’d share a few pictures of my yoga training activities…. The bet way to see what the training is like is to view our 7 minute slideshow. (David prepares one of each session to show at the graduation ceremony. It’s a great way to see not only our activities, but the great personalities and focused attention of some dynamic students.) I still love teaching dance and working with children. That always has been and always will be a very important element of my life – and I deeply love and appreciate my dance students, but I have discovered deep, poignant connections to the self-actualized adults who take on yoga teacher training. They are not just students, but friends, and people I expect to remain in touch with for the rest of my days.

Here is a link to one of the slide shows… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3CUGvOd77I&feature=youtu.be

In conclusion: Even hard work can enrich your life if you are willing to make sacrifices to stay in a field that is authentic and uplifting. Anyway, somedays I feel I work way harder than anyone my age should have to and I don’t make much money for the time and effort involved, but I love the path I’m on even so….  But despite this glowing description…. STILL I’m looking forward to a few much needed weekends off…. 

Aerial Training

Chakra Studies (My students always do an alter to set the mood for their presentation, and they put 110% into it -he artistry and diversity is totally fun and noteworthy, but here, I’m just showing an example….)  
    
Reiki and Anatomy

Posture focus & study


Outdoor day – yoga outside, meditation, journaling, & paddling as a metaphor for life!
 
Yep… it is a full course  …. and by the end, we get tired. 

  “Do you know how sexy you are to me right now?” I said to David the other day.

    He lifted one eyebrow and opened his hands as if to surrender himself to further, ruthless teasing. He was wearing jeans and sandals and a faded shirt with his college nickname, Zombie, on it.

   “I’m not kidding,” I said.

   “Right. I’ve had this faded shirt since college, my hands are full of grease, and I didn’t take a shower this morning. My hair is sticking up funny and I forgot to bring my hat. I’m definitely a sex symbol.” 

     We had been up late the night before, working on our new house and we were tired. We’d made arrangements to purchase a baker’s rack on craigslist to hold jars of pasta and baskets of potatoes and onions in our kitchen because our pantry is too small to hold anything much, and the only time the seller could meet us was at 8am on a Wednesday – the only window of opportunity the man had for getting into the storage facility, or so he claimed.  David took half a day off from work to make this exchange. So, we rolled out of bed, tired and sore, unloaded the stuff in David’s pickup and met the seller at an abandoned apartment complex downtown (which explained the man’s inability to access the place at will).

    While going up the abandoned service elevator, the man shared the story of why the 20 plus story tower was evacuated. The foundation had begun to sink and stability was threatened and owners and city commissioners were in a legal battle about what to do or how to solve the complicated dilemma. People who owned condos in the building were forced out and now couldn’t sell their property for what it was formerly worth, and foreign investors have begun swooping in to purchase the real estate for a song, knowing that the building might be torn down and something else will eventually be built there – which makes sense considering the amazing view of the bay.

     Anyway, David had had a lengthy conversation about building structures and stress equations and the financial implications – a conversation touching on all kinds of things that his mechanical engineering background qualifies him to understand and give an opinion on. As usual, I was impressed with his body of knowledge.  

    When we got upstairs, the baker’s rack was as nice as we hoped from the picture, but it was heavy and too big to move, so David pulled some tools out of his pocket and began dismantling it, discussing the most efficient way to get the cumbersome structure downstairs and packed into his truck. On the way, he discussed another problem regarding the inefficient elevator and for no other reason than because his mind is always circling efficiency and creative ways of improving things, he threw out a few ideas about how he would fix that if he were in charge.

    I offered to help move the furniture, but David grinned and said, “We’ve got it handled.”  – He is not one to expect a woman to take on burdens that are traditionally a man’s task if her help isn’t absolutely necessary. So he maneuvered that heavy furniture on his own. And once we were in the garage, he smoothly loaded the baker’s rack into his truck with blankets that he thought to bring to protect the finish, and he tied everything down and paid the man with cash and opened the car door for me, forever the gentleman, and bent over to give me a kiss before he drove us off to a restaurant where we planned to have a nice breakfast to steal a few moments together before life demands took over again  …..

. . . And at that moment, I thought it would be nice to get more than a kiss from my boyfriend, because he just seemed really sexy in that faded college shirt and jeans and his old Indiana Jones hat and sweat collecting on his forehead. I saw him not as a scruffy, tired guy, but a man with a head so full of knowledge, and a heart so full of grace he was simply beautiful …. So I made the sexy comment, which seemed a joke, but wasn’t.

   “I know this sounds really stupid, but for me, competence is sexy.” I explained. “And everything about you is competent and smart. In the simple, everyday moments it hits me. What can I say? It turns me on, Babe.”

      “Well, I’m all yours, sweat and all,” he said.

      We went to Firstwatch for breakfast and the subject was dropped, but that night when we were in bed he rolled over in the dark and said, “You awake?”

    “Yes,”

     He’d been thinking about what I said, rolling the day about in his mind as he tends to do when he finally gets the chance to sink into the sheets after a long day. A mind like his stays active even when his body is ready to cave.

   “I know what you mean when you say competence is sexy. I feel the same way about you. I’ve never been with a woman who not only gets things done, but does everything so well. You contribute so much to building our life together. Every woman I’ve ever been with before has acted like it’s my responsibility to be the provider and the one taking care of every aspect of a functioning life simply because I’m the guy. They all wanted a good life, but they didn’t dig in to help make it happen. You are different. You clean the house, make me a lovely lunch to take to work every morning, do the laundry, garden and work outside, AND you work diligently to build a business too. You take financial responsibility for as much as you can and you have ambition and an incredible work ethic. On top of that you volunteer your time to less fortunate people, and in your spare time, you write books that move me to the pit of my soul. The other day you rearranged the entire living room while I was at work. I’ve never dated a woman who imagined herself strong or healthy enough to do something like that, much less one who would be willing to work that hard herself rather than wait for me to get home so she could order me to do her bidding.  You have business sense and common sense and yet you are nurturing, loving and you wake up with a cheerful attitude and you maintain a positive outlook even when times are tough. You appreciate me – and you have no idea how much I appreciate that you appreciate me. In short, you are extremely competent. So, I know exactly what you meant today. Competence IS sexy.”

    (So is having a lover make a flattering speech about you like that, but I didn’t make a point of it – at least not verbally.)

     From that day on, “Competence is Sexy” has been our catch phrase. When I painted the front door one afternoon, David took all the hardware off and installed a new doorknob. Rather than purchase a bunch of new keys, he rekeyed the system himself. In the middle of the job, he paused, looked over his shoulder and said, “In case you didn’t notice, I am not only installing a great new doorknob but I am following the directions on this complicated rekeying device in the most competent way….. Control yourself, Honey; I know that watching me handle this screwdriver efficiently is bound to make you overcome with desire…..”
      When my blow dryer kept blowing out the fuse in the bathroom, David went to the garage to reset the fuse.He was gone for ten minutes.

     “What took so long?”  I asked.

     “I just rewired the plug and altered the electrical hook ups so we didn’t have so much energy running through that outlet. Whoever wired this house really didn’t think through things…. But never fear, I fixed it. Just another day in the life of a competent boyfriend….” (and he held his hands out as if to welcome the hug and kisses he assumed I’d want to shower him with…)
     One day I complained that my finger hurt because, even though I couldn’t see it, I was convinced I had a tiny splinter from a cactus I picked up while gardening. When I came out from the bedroom, David had set up his nifty microscope, and he put my finger under the viewfinder to locate the invisible splinter. He showed me the miniscule thorns that kept it embedded in my skin and carefully removed the offending spike. For fun, he took the opportunity to teach me some interesting things about science while we had our morning coffee. Only a competent man thinks to pull out a microscope just because his girlfriend’s finger has a nagging sore spot…. and it felt so lovely, sexy in fact, that he cared enough to go to the trouble.    

     For all that this sounds silly, competence IS sexy, and I often feel compelled to let him know how much I admire his ability and willingness to do anything and everything he can to make our life “work”. Every day, every hour, I marvel at the productivity and efficiency of the man I’ve chosen to marry. There is a saying, “Jack of all trades, master of none….” But in David’s case, he is a master of all trades.  

    When I act impressed or appreciative, David, master of humility (as well as all trades), insists that the reason he knows so much is simply that he’s lived so long. (He is 59.) “Anyone who has been around as long as me is bound to have some life experience to draw from,” he says with a shy shrug.

     I appreciate that he has such a lack of ego that despite his having an amazingly high IQ and a wealth of accomplishments, he doesn’t broadcast his experience or demand respect from others simply because of his past accomplishments. He earns his respect daily with every choice he makes. He is a quiet man, but oh, what an amazing one. And while he is not self depreciating and he well knows he is more intelligent than the average man, he has a quiet stregnth about him that makes it unnecessary to boast or showoff.
    In fact, he has a sense of humor about his own mental appitude. One day I said, “I’m afraid to kiss you for fear your brain is so overloaded with knowledge that one day it is going to explode and splat all over the walls and take me out !”
      He said, “No fear. Until my bulging brain pushes every folicle of hair out of my head, you don’t have to worry.” And he ran a hand along his balding head and added, “You’re safe. For awhile yet, at least….”
   The longer I live with him, the more I understand how he became the renaissance man he is today. He deeply curious about the world and has a fascination with learning. Most importantly, he never makes excuses and I’ve never seen him shy from a challenge. David digs in and takes control of life’s problems and challenges when they come up. If the most practical solution involves getting a degree, training or learning something new, he doesn’t hesitate. I guess, when you tackle life in that way, you’re bound to end up a productive and accomplished person.   

    Anyway rather than tell a hundred stories about David’s history and background to explain how and why he can do so much so well, I will share the highlights of what he’s learned in 59 years. Most people couldn’t do half as much in a lifetime.  Amazingly, I continue to discover new things about him as time goes on….. It will take a lifetime to understand the full diversity of this man’s gifts. Good thing for me that he plans to be around that long…

IN a nutshell, David’s Life Skills include (but are not exclusive of…):

• Licensed Mechanical Engineer

• Licensed Electrical Engineer

• Certificate of marine corrosion (or something like that) which is a part of water engineer competence (for working in fields involving boats)

• Degree and advanced skills in Computer Programing. (doing this now for work)

• Has a truck license (for towing his boats etc..) and he can trailer and park any size vehicle anywhere with remarkable accuracy    

• Speaks Spanish fluently
  
• Plays guitar, piano, and the sitar (Indian string instrument.) He is musical and artistic, as well as scientific. Knows theater, (lived with an talented actress, model, singer at one time) so he “gets” my crowd and many of my theatrical friends. 

• Commercial Pilots license (and plenty of flying experience)

• Sea plane flight license (And plenty of experience)

• Hot air balloon pilot (flew in the Olympics in 1984)

• He’s built a plane himself, owned hot air balloons and has pursued other flight hobby interests. Works on designing aeronautic improvements for sea craft as a consultant after his current “day job” tasks are done.

• Interesting hobbyist. Spent 4 months building a big model clipper ship that is striking- now under glass in our study. Owns a motorcycle but it is not in Florida as yet…. Taught motorcycle safety courses.

• Loves the water. Accomplished sailor with two sailboats, one 26 feet and one 42 feet – both for sale if you know anyone.

• Won awards from many paddling competitions on a canoe competitive team for years.

• Hiker, long distance runner, long distance champion swimmer, biker (has both a speed bike and collapsible mountain bike.)

• Builder – has remodeled and built homes that are not only ascetically amazing, but did this for remarkably little investment. He plans well. Budgets. He can build anything, use a lathe, and has done some blacksmithing too. Great at landscaping. Planning a water feature for our home now. Can fix anything – from small mechanical appliances to cars.

• Accomplished writer with one book finished and he is hoping to work on screenplays next. Planning to get an MFA himself when our life evens out a bit. (Writes the best love letter I ever had the good fortune to receive.) His artistic side is evident in his drawing, his love of watercolors, his art appreciation, and his poetry. He even journals.

• Fantastic cook. Puts me to shame. Great with a barbecue too.

• Loves animals – my bird loves him more than me…. So does my dog. (the traitor)

• Enjoys and is good at horseback riding, bowling, sequence & ping pong.

• He is a Master Gardener (certificate from North Carolina… he says he needs to study Florida gardening to really garden successfully in this area.)

• RYT-200 Certified yoga teacher now (having been through my 4 month program) Also certified in Aerial yoga. He teaches two mornings at 6:30am at my school now. Might pick up an aerial yoga class one night a week.  Excellent yoga teacher)

• He is a Reiki healer (also from my program) but only Level 1. We are soon going to complete levels 2-4 together. David has an open mind, deep spirituality, and authentic sensitivity.

• Formerly worked as a paramedic and has all kinds of knowledge of the body and medicine. He’s taken over the 20 hour anatomy portion of my yoga teacher training and is a remarkable lecturer. Now helps me train future yoga teachers.

• Ran an engineer design business successfully for 20 years. Is a devoted father, devoted son, and has a close, loving and respectful relationship with his family.

• Has a gift for loving his significant other with such intensity and tenderness it takes my breath away daily.

Yep. He’s competent and competence is sexy.

He’s a keeper.

Note to self: A girl never needs more than one cherry tomato plant. Any more creates an impossible amount of cherry tomatoes to cook with, eat, or give away, and duh, they are too small to use in salsa or homemade marinara sauce. Girls who have three cherry tomato plants as well as one hanging on her former horseshoe coat rack (now a nifty garden decoration holding lots of beloved plants) is going to have to serve that nice sauted cherry tomato recipe every week for months. Uh Oh…. Only the most devoted boyfriends will pretend to love your green thumb and your cooking that long.   


Note to self: When you have more than 50 hot peppers on a plant, or a dozen jalapenos, or more than 6 huge green peppers, all at once, you may want to consider harvesting and changing the evening’s menu to include pepper soup with pepper steak and pepper salad, and of course, pepper pudding for dessert.



Note to self: One small eggplant does not a meal make. Get creative. And remember – fast food is a matter of walking out your front door, picking some tomatoes, peppers and basil and throwing together something quick and easy and good for you.


Note to self: Wait to see if your cucumber plant goes crazy and takes over an entire fence before you decide you need to buy four more starter plants just in case…….. and start collecting pickle recipes cause if flowers are any indication of the future, a windfall of cukes is on the way.

Note to self: You learned in Georgia that you can never use up all the squash and zucchini on even a few plants, so planting a dozen just because they come 6 to a tray is gonna make you like Mickey Mouse in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice – drowning in buckets of squash instead of buckets of water. 

And next time your bean plants look done in, you may want to wait to replace them with brussel sprouts, because if only one bean plant survives, you will then have to come up with dishes that only require a few beans, and that is no fun….

Most important note to self: It doesn’t matter where you live. What matters is how you live and if you keep your priorities intact and your focus on what you want from life. We all plant seeds. The garden we do or do not harvest after the fact is dependant upon hard work, diligent caretaking, and your willingness to get your hands dirty to create a life of poignancy and creativity. Oh, and do all you can to keep out the weeds. And don’t open the gate for those who like to stomp on tender things, just because they let their own garden wither and crumble and they were so impatient for signs of growth that they nurtured weeds instead of more worthy plants!     

Last week it was my birthday, and I was given the greatest gift of all time. David bought two Perception kayaks (best on consumer reports) and he arranged for us to spend a day paddling through the mangroves. For me, this gift was not about getting a new boat, even though owning two kayaks is a dream comes true. These boats are a symbol of something deeper – proof that I’m going to spend my life with someone who listens to and considers my dreams important. Every day, David does things to demonstrate his commitment to making me happy. His acts of love are deeply moving.

I’ve wanted to own two kayaks of this sort for over 20 years. Each and every time a car drove by with two kayaks perched on the roof my family had to endure my sighs and exclamations of desire.  But no matter how much money we had (and we had plenty), or how often my ex said, “Yeah, we’ll have to get some of those someday,” it never happened.

For years I subscribed to canoe and kayak magazine.  I also subscribed to Outside magazine, budget travel and a few other publications that represented my deepest desire for an active, adventurous life. The signs of my interest lay strewn around the house, and I would read the articles wistfully and share pictures and quotes with my husband as we lay in bed at night, openly sharing my hopes that we would someday create a life where our time and money could be balanced to include a combination of sporty adventure, nature and quiet contemplation as well as work hard and a nice home. When we got an offer on our business, I even made my husband promise our life would include recreational “toys” to bring us together as a family and get us out in nature. If fun and leisure wasn’t going to be a part of our future plans, I didn’t want to sell. We openly negotiated and agreed to spend 1% of our windfall (only 1% mind you – not like I was demanding more than was reasonable or affordable) on recreational “toys” for the family.  But despite our agreement, I couldn’t get Mark to say yes to a boat no matter how many times I dragged him to see older, used boats on sale. I tried getting him to agree to a pontoon boat for only a few thousand dollars, and we looked at a used motor boat that the kids could ski behind. We had plenty of land to park a boat on. But for all that he said he’d love a boat, he just never could bring himself to pay for one. Over time, I gave up and allocated the 1% on animals and I spent my outdoor recreation time at the barn accepting that we were never going to live the sporty life we consistently talked of having one day as a couple.

I had given it my best effort. I once bought a used double kayak from a friend. I toted that boat from home to home for 8 years, keeping it clean and ready in hopes we might someday start using it, but we only took it out once on a camping trip. The boat was solid and big – too heavy for a woman to lift alone, and who wants to go kayaking in a double seater all by themselves? And even if I did want to use it with my son or something, I had no way to transport the heavy, long kayak. I bought some Styrofoam braces for the roof of my car, but tying it up that way didn’t work. The darn thing didn’t really fit in the back of a pickup either, even if I could convince Mark to loan me his truck, which was iffy since it was always filled with wood or landscaping supplies or whatever he was into. I complained about my inability to handle that boat all the time, reminding Mark how much I wanted to use the boat since we lived where the greatest kayaking river was a stone’s throw away. He kept saying that he’d love to go out with me, but he didn’t feel up to it because of his health (his hips or knees or back, or a sprained ankle, or headache, – whatever the current injury was. Sometimes it was stress, or his weight, or the fact that he really rather go to the mall. All I know is for ten years we talked about living a sporty life, but he just  wasn’t interested enough to get all sweaty and messy.  Eventually, I gave up and sold the two seater kayak – it had become a painful symbol of the life I couldn’t have, rather than inspiration for a life we could have if we just chose to put excuses aside.

The money was used family expenses, but I talked about how I intended to purchase  a couple of one man kayaks to keep those resources in some kind of outdoor toy. I felt that was only fair. So, a year later, Mark gave me an inexpensive small kayak for Valentine’s Day. I was deeply appreciated of what I imagined the gift meant.  We had built a dock on our little backyard pond, so the timing was lovely. But giving me only one boat sent a mildly disturbing message – kayaking would be a solitary pursuit if I wanted to get out in nature anytime soon.
“Maybe I’ll get you another kayak someday, so you can go out with somebody,” Mark said. “In the meantime, it will look great out there on the lake tied up to the dock.”

Of course, I could have gone out and used the boat alone, and frankly, lots of people would do just that. But my dream was not really to kayak as much as to be a part of a couple who shared adventures together. If I was going to carve out the time to enjoy singing birds and the rush of white water, I wanted company to share my thoughts and smiles with. I just didn’t have an interest in spending my afternoons all alone on the water. So the boat was never used beyond a few spins on the backyard pond by the kids.

When we decided to get a divorce, I took a trip home to spend a few days with my parents, asking for their advice and financial help in what had become a desperate situation.  Mark was in survival mode and so he decided to unload as much as we could to get some quick cash– which meant everything that was mine was deemed expendable.  The art I loved was put into a consignment shop, my bees and all my outdoor animals and equipment was sold to his friends. Nothing I cared about survived our separation because we needed money and my “stuff” was the easiest thing for him to let go of. Frankly, I was OK with that, because the family did need money. I told him to get rid of anything we needed to get rid of, the boat included. But I expected him to make the same  kind of sacrifices. Instead, Mark kept everything of his, (tools and his recreational things) while giving the things I loved and valued most away for practically nothing.  He sold the boat while I was out of town and later gave me “my half” – a whopping $50.00.  I was more than a little disappointed.  I offered to give up the boat because I thought we’d sell it for fair value. Had he considered what the sacrifice meant to me, he would have understood that 50.00 was too small a return to give up something you truly love.  More than once I regretted leaving town and forfeiting a say in these matters because if I had kept the boat, I could have joined a kayak group and meet friends in Florida. But it really wasn’t the sort of boat I needed for real kayaking anyway, so I suppose it didn’t make a difference.  Still,  I missed my boat – mostly because of what it represented to me. The boat was mine –or at least, it was supposed to be. Ah well.. Bad times.

Anyway, with all this kayak history –   the fact that my boyfriend now not only shares my interest in sporty fun, but the evidence that he has listened to my stories, and in response, does all he can to help me experience the rich, natural life I crave, means getting that dang kayak means the world to me.

Knowing David, I wasn’t at all surprised by his purchasing two kayaks for my birthday, because he bends over backwards to make me happy and he loves the water and is a serious hiker, runner, boater, etc… but we have financial stresses right now, so I did not expect any kind of recreational toy for some time.

After work, I went out to the parking lot,  saw two kayaks on a car, felt that familiar stab of envy, and looked around.
“Where’s my car?” I said.
David chuckled and said, “Um… that IS your car, babe.”
It took a few moments for me to process what was happening.
He also bought and installed a roof rack for toting these boats which instantly transformed my car from some economical, dented, boring practical car to looking like a car that belonged to someone who lives large. I so appreciated his thinking through his gift and considering the practical issues regarding my being able to use the boats, and any other outdoor recreational things (bikes etc..) I might want to haul with my little, practical car. I can honestly say I love the roof rack as much as the boats. 
“We can’t afford this right now…” I mumbled.
“I’m been saving for quite a while, planning to do something special for your birthday for a long time, so don’t worry. I ordered these boats months ago and worked things out to make it manageable . The investment makes sense because, we work way too much, and we don’t have a lot to invest in recreational fun. Now, we will always have the means to for entertainment and much needed down time in nature. We only have to carve out a few hours from work whenever we need a dose of peace and pleasure. ….”

Amen.

At home he presented me with a big birthday bag of boat goodies – a spray skirt to keep water out of the kayak cab,  a nifty cellphone holder that keeps your phone dry and floats and hooks to the boat, a compass, a map of all the kayaking routes and water in the area (over 14 amazing places to explore in my town alone, including salt and fresh water rivers, creeks, bays and more.) a package of 3 dry sacks, float cushions, and a watertight box for keys etc….

I wasn’t surprised by the handy extras. I always tease him, singing the Inspector Gadget theme song when he shows me something he has bought or owns, because he is like  that cartoon character with everything associated to him having parts and extra features or special capabilities…. David’s idea of a perfect world would be everything having multi use and being as flexible and practical as a super duper Swiss army knife.  Whatever doesn’t come that way, he invents – in his mind if not in reality. It’s an engineer thing, I guess. 

Anyway, the most meaningful birthday gift was the other half of David’s present – my paddles.

David knows how much I appreciate homemade things –they represent the gift of time and talent. I consider a homemade gift way more loving than just buying someone something. Knowing this, he spent weeks working on homemade paddles for the boat. Always the intellectual, he researched the most effective paddles on the planet, and decided for our use, he would go with West Greenland paddles – a narrow, streamline paddle used by serious kayakers. Then, he worked diligently to hand plane and sand the wood, making a graceful, perfectly shaped paddle from beautiful cedar. He added inlays of white oak (a very hard wood) along the edges so they would be tough enough to sustain white water action. My paddle is designed for me, the length and width proportioned to my body. (A few months ago, at the dinner table, he made an excuse to measure my hands and the length of my arm – now I know why.) The paddles are unusual looking – skinny and long – but very beautiful with two tone wood and an artful grain running through the wood, all offset by a natural oil finish. These paddles would cost hundreds of dollars if he didn’t make them himself, but David is brilliant with woodworking, and he not only enjoyed working on the project, but knew I would assign special meaning to the gift. Great way to earn boyfriend brownie points.   I consider the paddles a work of art as well as a fun utilitarian item. I almost hated using them, wincing as I dug into oyster beds when I ran aground to get a closer look at a bird in the mangroves. But David assured me his hand carved paddles would sustain hard use, and besides, he could always make us more if anything happened to them.

It was a beautiful day. David took the day off from work, made arrangements for me to have a day off too, and we spent the morning enjoying perfect weather as we explored Philippe Creek and the mouth of the bay on our new boats. We waved to other kayakers, couples out enjoying time together on the water, and I was thrilled to think I am now one of “those people” who  actually make active fun (rather than shopping or eating out) a part of their daily lives.  We stopped midday to have a seafood lunch at The Oyster bar, dining waterside on coconut shrimp and red potatoes. Later, having satiated ourselves with food, exercise and nature, we slipped the boats back on the car as conveniently as packing a suitcase for a trip.  We then stopped for dessert at yogurtology and ate our concoctions outside as we discussed future adventures we might plan with the boats. David said that if Neva was at all interested, we could get a third boat when finance ease up, because my roof rack would handle it. He knows I want my children connected to nature and I’d love our outings be a family event. (The way he wants to provide me and my children with what we need to feel balanced means so much to me.)  I sat on the white leather couch looking at my car loaded with kayaks, remembering how envious I was the dozens of times I saw cars sporting equipment like that before and thought how small  shifts and changes can add up and change a life drastically for the better.  We then stopped to get a coffee at Starbucks and did some people watching, and leisurely walked over to Elysian Fields to browse books on philosophy and organic living. Fun.

I said, “I can’t believe you bought me a boat…  you just don’t know what that means to me.”
David said, “I didn’t buy you a boat. I bought you two boats. Let me make it perfectly clear that I didn’t by myself a boat and then give a boat to you. I bought you two kayaks so you will never have to go out paddling alone. And I bought you a roof rack so you never will be dependent upon someone else to figure out a way to use your boats. And if anything ever goes wrong between us (but it won’t) and you and I separate, you will still have your boats. That is what a gift is, Ginny. I will never take them back or sell them or tell you how to use them. You own two kayaks now….  And by the way, thank you for letting me use one of them today.”

Ha. 
But there was something so comforting in that speech. Because I don’t feel the boats are a “favor”, or that  they will be taken away as punishment if I displease him in some way – and I don’t have to ask his permission to use them anytime I wish. I can let my son take the boats out with a college friend when he visits without feeling guilty or worrying about getting “permission”.  In other words, these boats don’t have strings.  I’ve never been given anything without strings.

At 5 we dropped Neva at school for backstage call for a school show she is in, and to kill time until the theater opened, we went out for wine and a turkey burger at Square One burgers. The day ended with our enjoying the Booker High School musical with my parents. It felt natural, family-ish and perfect. Thanks to David – the day was wonderful.

I won’t go into much detail here, but I should explain why a nice birthday means so much to me… I have a history of my family being very mean to me on my birthday. It’s a long and weird story, but for some reason my former husband and my children couldn’t stand for me to have a decent day on my birthday. In rebellion to feelings that they were obligated to acknowledge my day, they always acted out and purposely ruined my birthday.  I actually hated my birthday because I had to brace myself for ugly treatment and disregard. It was so reoccurring that it became a family joke  – everyone knew that on my birthday I’d be purposely hurt or treated badly by one or more of them, and they all laughed about it, as if being mean to me on my birthday was a funny tradition they were honor bound to keep. But what no one paused to consider was that their treatment truly was hurtful and disturbing to me. Mark never put his foot down and demanded the kids change their attitude on “my day”. I always went to great trouble to make their birthdays wonderful and so being treated in an unloving way on my day left me feeling unappreciated and undervalued. I never understood it.

Last year, I spent my birthday with David. We had been dating for months, but this was the first birthday we spent together. He had planned a lovely weekend at his home in Lake Placid. He made me a fantastic Japanese dinner at his house, serenaded me on his guitar for the first time, and gave me lovely sports watch wrapped in a swath of his favorite shirt (a symbolic gift)-  My reaction to his kindness was to cry. Needing to explain my odd behavior, I shared some stories of previous lousy birthdays and how I hated celebrating the day because it dredged up memories of a family that never felt I was worth any kindness or respect. He listened, shocked. He just never heard of someone being treated awfully on their birthday for any reason.  And he didn’t forget it.
This year, armed with insight and a better understanding of some of the wounds I’m still licking from a sour past, he took it upon himself to change my association to my birthday. It isn’t easy to be the one who mends the open wounds and slights of the past, but David seems to have taken on the challenge with a vengeance.

I should mention here that my daughter didn’t acknowledge my birthday, thus keeping the family tradition intact.

Neva stomped into the kitchen in the morning, ignoring me. Normally she is cheery and pleasant, but it was my birthday, so she was predisposed to be in a dour mood.
I said, “Have anything to say to me?”
“Oh yea, Happy Birthday,” she said as if it pained her to voice the sentiment aloud.
And that was it. She didn’t acknowledge my birthday in any other way the rest of the day.

The child’s hobby is making greeting cards and I’ve spent at least 400 dollars buying her supplies, embossers, paper, cricut machines etc.. to support her passion.  She has at least twenty birthday cards in reserve already made and she is always looking for a way to get rid of them, but she didn’t bother to sign one and hand it to me.

When she saw the new boats on the car and I expressed my delight, she said, “What do you need a boat for? You had a boat and you never used it. You got rid of it…….”
I didn’t point out that I wasn’t the one who sold the boat.
I did tell her, “I’ve  always wanted to own kayaks and I deeply appreciate that David has given me a gift that I’ve wanted all my life. He is taking me out kayaking for my birthday.  Could you try being happy for me?”
“Whatever…” she said.

Later, when we came home I asked her how her day went at school. “Fine,” she said, turning her back on me and going into her room.
She didn’t ask  how my day was or if I enjoyed kayaking. She didn’t ask if I was having a good birthday. It didn’t occur to her to perhaps make her bed or do some dishes or make me a cup of coffee as a birthday offering . She just asked me to cut up some fruit for her to snack on, and told me to be ready soon to take her to the show on time . She also reminded me she needed her laundry done.
David watched, deeply disappointed in her, and deeply disappointed for me, recognizing once again that everything I’ve told him about my past family is true, even when stories of selfishness or lack of respect sound so bizarre you’d think I was kidding. But evidence of that madness reveals itself all the time and he has long since realized I’m not exaggerating..
“She needs someone to set her straight,” he said, gritting his teeth because he has a great deal of class and he always treats others with honor and respect. He has very little tolerance for people who are rude and yet he is too polite to ever say anything in response to rudeness (which is kind of funny if you think about it.).   
I told him to let it go. I have long since taught myself not to take the behavior of my family personally.

“Your kids haven’t been taught to treat you with respect or with the reverence a parent who works as hard as you do deserve. It just seems wrong.”

“You more than make up for it.” I said.

Later, I gave thought to the difference between how I am treated now compared to my past. 
David is unfailingly giving, patient, kind, mannered, and brilliantly competent.  He takes care of me. Loves me. Is  considerate and tender. It occurs to me that whether or not I deserve all his beautiful treatment, I’ve earned it. Because life has a way of finding equilibrium and his exaggerated goodness balances out and corrects everything my life was missing before.  

Every day is my birthday now.

I went to a dance competition this weekend, the first I’ve attended in 7 years. Basically, I went to appease a parent of a student who has been longing to get involved in competitions again and to scope out this arena of the dance world with fresh eyes. My daughter wanted to go and I thought it might be good for my few of my new to dance students to see the level of dance that exists beyond the borders of my very small, beginner studio. Unfortunately, what might have been an easygoing, gentle exploratory weekend went sour.  One student from my group (who has already chosen to leave my school) allowed attitude and grievances to rear an ugly head. I’ve acknowledged her choice to change schools gracefully- even told her it was a good decision and made it clear she is going with my blessing. Still, the parent and child started acting weird and finding reasons to complain to justify their choice. Sigh. 

I do not embrace self-created crises in my life anymore, and I certainly have no tolerance for dance school drama, so it’s hard to draw me into an emotional tug of war. I do not get defensive or offended or even bothered as this stuff happens. I guess you can say I look at the world through yoga eyes now, and if anything, all I feel is a subtle sadness when people act out because they are wrapped up in ego and social expectation and false assumptions.  Anyway, I felt rather removed from the swirl of talk and action around me, as if I was watching it all from a distance.   
 
It was an interesting weekend. Not a good one, and yet not a bad one either. I have long since evolved past the point of believing experiences must be successful to be positive. Sometimes failures and challenges provide the insight we need to make good choices.  I was deeply appreciative of the fact that I’ve had time and distance to clear residual attachments so I could see the entire competition experience as it is.
 
There was this added element to stir further reflection. A brand new school from our area was there. The school is made up of approximately 60 students who have become a tight knit competitive dance team. They have been dancing for years together – beginning at my school years ago. They left  FLEX after we sold and the school went down, then went to a new school opened by one of our former student’s.  They trained there primarily with two of my former students – now grown and good teachers in their own right. But the school owner was so focused on the dance team rather than on growing the business in a practical way that this school folded too. The dancers went to another school run by yet another one of our former student’s. Left that school a year later to help another teacher start a new school and they stayed one year. Leaving her abruptly (and it looks like her business will fold as well) they have backed yet another teacher –and so it continues with another young teacher starting a new school to hang onto this group and give them what they want . For the time being, everyone is happy.
 
I find it fascinating that this group has such influence over the ultimate success or failure of the local dance scene. It’s like baby boomers impacting the world simply because they are big in number and have purchasing power. This group of parents insist they have been through so much, but so have all the people they support and later leave in some quest to find an alternate home . They just want to stay together and have control over their dance experience, but they’ve done this by backing teachers, encouraging them to open a school designed to cater to their needs and desires, with little thought to the long term. Survival is the teacher’s problem….  

I am glad I am not a part of the madness – but then, I couldn’t possibly be because my understanding of both the dance business and human nature means I would never design a school to meet the needs of one focus group. Since I would never put a single group of dancers above more practrical considerations that would secure the business for the long term, I’m sure they would never land with me.  It doesn’t make a difference. This wave of “power students” and the drama that unfolds in the wake of their slippery judgment will pass in time, not unlike the bad economy. Phenomenon like this are better explained in the book the Tipping Point- the influence of certain individuals can set off a reaction to influence large groups and that can impact lives, social structure and the business environment. They are causing change in the local dance world, but eventually, they will go off to college and things will return to normal.
 
Anyway, the students are beautiful and talented and they have evolved to become strong competition dancers. They are flexible, can turn like tops, and have a lovely grasp on the popular contemporary styles that are considered cutting edge cool today.  I see technical weaknesses and artistry problems, of course, but they are irrelevant in the competitive dance arena, so what difference does it make? Frankly, I was impressed and enjoyed watching them perform. I am, after all, the artistic grandmother to this crowd. I am in no way taking credit for them as dancers, because I haven’t trained them since they were 7, but my own students were their primary teachers and inspiration, so these dancers are my students once removed. Knowing this, I feel the pride of being central to their dance journey. Frankly, I sat there in the audience watching them and couldn’t help smile at how deeply I’ve impacted the Sarasota dance world. I do not feel obsolete or finished or “old school” or anything else. I just see this complicated timeline of dance evolution that began when I moved from New York to Sarasota. I would never have guessed….
 
I came to the competition with 5 dancers – all beginners in my estimation. One very talented boy who has only danced for 7 months, my daughter ,who has only trained for a year and has had some personal problems standing in the way of her focus, a daughter of a former teacher of mine who has not trained for 3 years, another 13 year old beginner, and one 12 year old dancer who dared come to my school when no one else would. Her mother broke from the fold of the tipping point group because she was independent of mob influence, and she had faith enough in my background to be the renegade. (She is the one who is leaving now.) 7 months ago, I was teaching these kids how to do a single pirouette. The kids didn’t know how to point their feet or straighten their legs, and their alignment and line and transition were so weak that I was like, “Lets lie on the floor and learn how to contract properly… and maybe soon we can learn to stand up…… “I was starting from scratch, working slowly, which is totally boring to young people…  At this stage, I’m no fun.
 
Anyway, the kids danced beautifully in my opinion. I wasn’t looking at them in comparison to the other groups of experienced competitors in this high level event – dancers who have sunk 10 grand into the process of vying for plastic trophies and bragging rights this year alone. I was looking at my beautiful students with an eye to how far they’ve come. I was busy assessing what they need to continue evolving – making plans for their future training to get them where I want them to be. They did not score well. I did not care. Others did. Apparently, the world around me was looking at them differently – judging, feeling smug, losing faith… there were lots of different responses.
 
I will share a few of the things I experienced because I was presumptuous enough to attend this competition.
Students from the “other school” took my dancers aside and told them they really had to change schools and join their new studio
because I was giving them work that was dated. They were told they should be embarrassed by their scores because it proved I was inadequate as a teacher.  (As if my beginner dancers would perform with the same proficiency as their team just by association if they changed schools.  As if the seven years of practice and the wads of money spent and events attended by this group were not accountable for the difference in level today. And as if my beginners would get there faster by moving to a school where they couldn’t possibly get the personal attention and same opportunity to be featured as they have now.) Silly really.
 
My student’s shared the conversations they had with the other school’s dancers and parents with me openly on the way home, telling me they were directly solicited and it made them feel icky.  I told them that if they wanted to become competitive dancers and had the resources to keep up with this crowd, they should go……
They said, “I rather stay where I am and work hard with you…..”
David (my fiance) said, “It’s like dance survivor…. everyone is trying to steal members of your team… Crazy.”


We discussed the “dated” concept. I am older now. Fact. I explained that most of the contemporary work popular today is rooted in basic modern dance, combined with lyrical elements and a smattering of hip hop. I have a foundation in all of the above, and the more the work sways towards modern, the easier it is for me to understand and emulate. Actually, it is circling back to styles that I can teach much easier than what was popular 7 years ago.  Not like it would take me long to study what is popular and find the best way to pass it on to students. But perhaps this work is better left to the younger crowd.  I told the kids that I’d be happy to hire a contemporary teacher and perhaps step out of the training process altogether. I will just be the director of the school and keep it healthy and growing through management and program design. I have an entire yoga career blooming and other responsibilities. I am not the only person who can build a dancer…. 
They looked mortified. We still want you training us……. Yes, we’d love you to find us a young, kick butt contemporary teacher, sure, but that would be in addition to your class not instead of it.
 
This made me laugh. It is a little like people who believe in God, not because  they are religious, but just in case there is a heaven – they chose to “believe” as insurance to be sure they get in.  I said, “You all want my class not because you are convinced I have anything to offer, but just in case everything they say about me is true and I am indeed the ticket to your becoming a sophisticated, stronger dancer.”
 
That’s about it,” They admitted.
Can I tell you how much I love their honesty and the fact that the communication we share is gut honest and real? So I am on the lookout for new teaching talent…. but I am picky…..
 
Other things that I was subject to this weekend….
The parent who is already leaving with my blessing (and I truly like her and her blunt quality thus no reason to start problems) came into my room at ten the night before the kids danced to complain that about how mortified she is by the impending failure that would ensue the next day. She explained her daughter would feel like shit because of me. She wanted me to know that she spends 10 grand a year on competition and for that she expects better results.  I told her perhaps she should wait until they actually danced before complaining about how badly they perform…..  and I asked her if devoting so much of a family’s resources into this superficial dance high was really worth it – was it truly in the best long term interest to her child? Perhaps we should take a moment to put things in perspective…. But nothing I said calmed her agitation…. She was hell bent on making this experience negative. David was in the room, and he said it was the most odd thing he’d ever heard. “We are only getting started, Dear, This is nothing. Imagine 50 of those parents all needing diffusing….. “

I couldn’t help but notice that the hotel and ranks of the audience was filled with mothers and daughters, but the fathers – often the ones footing the bill, are sadly missing. I imagined the drain on each family’s resources for this ego trip. Frankly, the mom’s justify this cash drain by pretending the kids are training for a career in dance – but I seriously doubt it. That is the subject for another philosophical essay all its own, not something I will address today.
 
Anyway, I thought about what these people spend on costumes, tuition, competition and convention fees, hotels and food – not to mention the cost of their being away from their family and work and their homes etc…There is no way this obsessive, expensive hobby doesn’t strain a family budget or a marriage. But since these moms are all in it together, it feels natural – like “everyone does it”… They are sucked in and don’t have enough space to see that everyone doesn’t. And this is not the only way to become a great dancer.
 
There is an opportunity cost to every choice you make that goes beyond the physical cost (something you learn in business school) When resources are devoted to one project, you pay the price of missed opportunity by not devoting them to another area that might have a greater return on the investment.   Paying 10 grand a year for competitive dance might be fun, create some great memories, and might make the kid feel special, but over the course of 7 or ten years, that same money invested in other opportunity for your child could have a powerful impact.  I have witnessed people spending droves on dance, but when that same child turns 18 and is ready for college, the family suddenly says, “She needs a scholarship. We really don’t have money for school.” And the kid gets laden with school loans that bleed them dry when they graduate, so they really can’t afford to follow their dream to be an artist – they need to get a “real job” to pay for their now useless college dance education. Or they have to wise up and forgo the dream because suddenly, the reality of dance not being a road towards financial security is made plainly clear.
 
Imagine that same money put into a trust and left to build over the next 50 years. The child would never have to worry about retirement, because millions would be there for future security. This means they could do what they love for a living rather than something practical because their long term needs were already taken care of. Money invested now means future freedom; – they never would have to stay in a bad marriage or a bad job because they can’t afford go get out. It means a life without so much stress, more opportunity. Yes, I imagine having the discipline and foresight to put 10 grand a year aside for your child (and still enjoying dance but not so aggressively) might be a gift that supersedes any scrapbook of pictures from ten dozen competitions where the kid performed the same dances over and over, swam in similar hotel pools, ate sandwiches from your cooler (suppose ably to save money).
But the weakness in that scenario is discipline, because few parents would actually put the money aside if they didn’t have a costume bill consuming their expendable income. And where is the fun in saving?
 
If you love competition, I think it’s great, but I will always be a bit skeptical at the drain on resources. You are in effect paying for a chance to have an audience. In real life, it’s the other way around.
Imagine that money used to purchase a second home for the family – and rather than weekends devoted to a child and mom getting away, the time and the resources would now be devoted to building more family memories.  The vacation home could be later sold to buy that dancing daughter her
first house outright.
Oh, the mind reels with the possibilities of lost opportunity costs.
 
But I guess it is good to pay it all to the dance people who made a business out of exploiting young dancers and enthusiastic moms too…… At least they found a way to make dance work for them.
 
Anyway, a former student of mine’s parent came up to me at competition and said, “Do you really want to do all this again?”   I shrugged and said “We’ll see…” But inside I was thinking, “No way in hell. At least not this way.” My life is about balance now and teaching others to embrace it. That is what the entire yoga element of my business is – it’s helping people dig underneath ego and drama and social expectation to pursue a life that is poignant and responsible and filled it joy.
Dance can be joyous – inspirational – self-esteem building – it can be an expression of the self. The artistry of dance is remarkable – but it isn’t something you get at competition. Dance should not drive families into financial stress, or be filled with emotional intrigue, drama and subterfuge. 
I don’t believe you can get to the place where dance is a source of deep joy through obsessive dance competition pursuits. I can play the game and go once in a while, but I will never feel the attraction to competition these people feel.
 
Because I know the world is filled with professional dancers and amazing talent that never set foot on a competition stage. Perhaps that needs to be considered when building a business model for leading young people into the dance world. Or perhaps I should pack it in and leave the dance world to a different mindset. Perhaps I should be just damn grateful for all dance has given me, personally and professionally and leave everyone else to figure it out on their own…. Sometimes swimming upstream gets exhausting…..   
 
I think the entire weekend could be summed up in one conversation.
The dance school parents from the new school were talking to me and they said, “So, aren’t you shocked about how much the dance world has changed? How do you feel about what you see here?”
 
I sort of shrugged and said I was rather surprised that the dance world was so stagnant – nothing seemed changed at all to me. I mean, the movement has evolved and is more contemporary now – costumes and trends have changed. The bar has been raised regarding physical ability too. But other than that (elements which have been a consistently changing factor in the arts for as long as I’ve danced) everything seems stagnant. All around me were kids wearing team jackets, overstimulated and hyper excited, they danced around the halls and gathered at the vendors. The same schools were there that I knew from the past – Robyn Dawn, Rolanes School of Dance, Mary Joes and others. Moms were doting on their kids, bringing them lunch during breaks. The teachers on stages were working the crowds, keeping things exciting; hyping up the energy and acting cool (I remembered teaching on those stages for years doing the same thing to be popular). Money was exchanging hands – fights occured, laughter… gossip……  The only thing that changed was the faces of the kids and moms….. It was just a new crew of people who all feel as if all this is new and exciting and different because it is new, exciting and different to them.  
 
I have no doubt that my comment came across as arrogant and like I was some kind of dinosaur refusing to admit that the dance world moved on without me. They wanted me to sigh and say, “Yea, it’s amazing. So much better than it used to be. So sorry I left… I could never catch up now at my age…… ”
But that is not how I felt.
I had just had a different conversation before running into these dance moms ……
 
A dance teacher with a power school whom I’ve known for years saw me at the registration table and about fell over. She was sort of our friendly nemesis years ago – at competitions the battle really got down to her students or ours, and we had a mutual respect and appreciation for each other as the two heavy hitters in the dance school competitive world. She said, “Ginny, I haven’t seen you in years. Where have you been?”
 
 “I sold my school and retired 7 years ago. I’ve just opened a small school so I’m back, checking things out.”
 
She nudged the man running the competition and said, “You should have seen her school – it was amazing. I went there to work with her kids once. It was huge, beautiful and the students were remarkable. Never seen anything like it.” She turned to me and said, “What in the world has happened to you since? How could you leave that fantastic successful school? Tell me everything..,”
 
I paused and said, “You first. What have you been up to?”
 
“Things are great – the same. Mom’s good. The school is doing good. We are in the same space. The kids always win now….”
I asked a few questions and found out that she is living in the same home, still unmarried, still doing dozens of competitions, only with new dancers since the other ones have all gone to college to become accountants or nurses …. Some tried dance but eventually landed in a more practical career. The big change is that she lost 25 pounds.
 
I made an excuse to go and said I would talk to her later and we would catch up. I had no intention of telling her my story. I really didn’t see the point in my sharing what would be the flipside of that conversation.
 
Because, it would go like this….
 
“Well, I sold my school 7 years ago and walked away with 2.4 million dollars. Was supposed to be more, but we never got the balance owed. Greatest financial success story ever told in the dance studio business nevertheless. Our students were not happy however, and a volatile series of events unfolded that tarnished our reputation and relationships with people we cared deeply about. The school went down within three years and broke into 7 new schools and a dance war began. We were blamed for much of what happened next, even though we were now in Georgia. 
The plan for Mark and I was that we would simplify and live in a humble home in the mountains, pursue our artistic dreams and focus on family. Unfortunately, from the moment we moved, Mark and I didn’t see eye to eye on how to manifest this simple life we discussed. I wanted to let someone else build us a humble cabin so we could travel and celebrate our freedom and just live. He promised he could build our home less expensively and better. Instead, he went crazy spending a million more than we had on his exciting home building project and the obsession took him away emotionally for two years. I got an MFA degree and quietly worked on writing, lonely as I experimented with farm life waiting for him to come back to earth. I got involved in yoga. Meanwhile, Mark made increasingly erratic financial decisions and we started disagreeing on how to save what we now had to acknowledge as a serious mistake. He plowed on, building and spending a second house until he lost everything we had (Only took three years) creating financial and emotional stress that was worse than anything we ever experienced running a dance school. Our life fell apart as he cut me out emotionally, physically and financially. Still, I was willing to regroup and work things out. 

He explained he couldn’t stand to be around me anymore because I was unhappy and cried often, worrying about my kids and our future since we had no career and lived in a place where we couldn’t make a living, and rather than taking my grief as evidence that his wife needed him more than ever, he considered my unhappiness a drag. I was a witness to his failure and he thought it would be easier to start over than deal with repairing our wounded love so he asked for a divorce. B
y then, I was ready too. We agreed to do so without a fight. I had no choice but to move back to Florida to get back to work because of financial issues and Mark helped me pack and hugged me and sent me away with a promise that when school was out in a few months, after I found a place to live, my daughter would join me. A month later I was hit with a lawsuit claiming abandonment and a lawsuit suit for custody. A huge expensive and ugly fight ensued, and I lost my children for two years due to his accusations. ( My fault- I was naive and I trusted him to follow our “plan” for the second time).
At this time, I haven’t talked to my oldest daughter in over two years and I have to accept the fact that we probably will never reconcile because time makes it worse and builds more resentment, at least for me – Meanwhile, the other two kids and I had our struggles. I went crazy with grief and depression over all this. I wrote a book about the experience and it won the Royal Palm Book award.  Art is where we pour our souls, I guess. Some good comes out of all pain.
Mark continued to make erratic and irresponsible decisions and the mistakes mounted up even faster now that I was gone, because my role was always the voice of reason and the devil’s advocate stopping him from himself. The kids were soon living on food stamps, every man out for himself, and they were subject to all kinds of changes and emotional challenges that left them confused, lost and feeling insecure. I was the now the full fledged enemy so I couldn’t help or console them. I suffered, watching their life tank more and more, as any mother would.
Mark got married the same week we got divorced – he’d been dating a family friend for less than a year. She is only the second girl he has ever dated (me being the first). He made this decision on a whim, without asking the kids blessing, or even telling them his plans. Only a month before, he insisted he had no interest in marriage to this person. Suddenly, my kids had a new mom – new living conditions and more stress. My son went to college, and as he broke free from the influence at home, we reconciled – a huge and important step for us. My youngest continued to resent me, barely visited and she was subject to more and more turmoil. She developed severe depression and emotional problems and got involved with a friend that was a bad influence.Mark was wrapped up in a new building project now that he had money again.  Meanwhile, Neva was getting worse. She ended up hospitalized on suicide watch and only then did the kids and I find out Mark had gotten married secretly. He claimed he did it for insurance and because that was the only way to get a house . I soon discovered he and his new wife had lots of secrets, their marriage being the least shocking… they knew my youngest was self-mutilating and she had two attempted suicides (minor incidents, but certainly a huge warning sign), but they didn’t share this information with me. I was cut out of my child’s life just as I had been cut out of my marriage. Later, my daughter told me lots of “secrets” she had with her new stepmom – simple things that was kept just between them – like things about her health and money and intimate, inappropriate relationships. Needlesstosay, I was not amused. 
Now things had come to a head. The therapist in the hospital suggested my daughter try a different living situation and overnight, arrangements were made for my child to come to Sarasota to live with me – only now we had all kinds of emotional and trust issues to work through and health issues etc… Financially, things were beyond dire – which makes it scary to have a child with problems. I had just moved in with my boyfriend, and I kicked him out – not nice but necessary. I put my relationship, my business and everything on hold to attend to the broken relationship with my daughter and help her regain feelings of security . I was unprepared, but delighted for this gift of motherhood again. Thankfully my boyfriend proved understanding, supportive, patient, and caring, a good revelation at a time I needed it.
Thankfully, I also had yoga to help me deal with the stress, confusion and anger.
Mark’s new wife left him for another man within three months.  He told everyone about it. Then, when things didn’t work out, she came back – but by now Mark had told me and everyone else about “her issues” which makes reconciling awkward. My children now know too much to about her and what transpired to ever accept her as they once did. Another mistake. Since then, Mark has gotten two hip replacement surgeries. He has been trying real-estate for years, but it hasn’t been successful. He is going through physical therapy and health issues, as well as facing a financial crisis (because he took his settlement and overextended himself on another house building project rather than paying his debts again, believe it or not, thus continuing his pattern of financial mayhem.&nbsp. IIssues in his private life point to further adjustments he will have to wade through. I try to be friends, but he wants no part of that. He refuses to answer my calls or e-mails or respond to my attempts to be nice. I am still struggling to get to a place where we can work together to raise our daughter to meet her emotional needs, but I am on my own.  I miss him often, still care deeply for him as the father of my children, but distance has shown me the serious problems I worked to hide from others for years are so ingrained that nothing will change them. That makes me sad – for him, for those that count on him. But I am relieved to be off the roller coaster after twenty years of struggling to make life work. Frankly, I’m exhausted from it all and some days I wonder if I will ever feel free of the emotional depletion that transpired over years and years of drama .
 
I am back in Sarasota. I used my settlement to open a business, a dance and yoga studio, but it hasn’t been easy. The yoga element of the school is successful, but getting the dance off the ground has been a challenge (not something I saw coming.) I have dug into yoga so intently that somehow I’ve become a master in the field and now I do trainings in yin yoga, RYT training, chair & yoga therapy and more. I am the leader in aerial yoga training in the south – a long story. A reiki healer. All kinds of new agey, health things have eased into my life and world . Don’t know how I got here professionally, but that is where my choices have led. I love my work, am excited  by all I”ve learned, and have ambition to grow into something unique that combines dance and yoga and holistc healing. Still it’s a day to day struggle to keep my business afloat.  I am learning a lot though – about people, how the body and brain works, and about myself. I’ve seen my past with remarkable clarity thanks to yoga and the way it sheds ego, excuses, justifications, and social training.   
Once Neva healed (she is doing marvelously now), I felt it would be appropriate to get engaged to my boyfriend, a man with the highest IQ if anyone I’ve ever known. He is remarkably accomplished – an engineer, computer programer, balloon & plane pilot, master gardner, builder, sailor, athlete, and more. (More on him another day) Most importantly he is kind, honest, wise, and has a gentle spirit. But I am still healing so I need time before I can set a date for a wedding. I guess I am afraid to take the plunge because I keep imagining Mark’s & his wife’s scenario – I don’t want to make the mistake of thinking someone is perfect for me when the truth is, it  takes time to know someone – to learn the truth of their story.  David, my fiancé, is a source of support, encouragement and healing. He is deeply loving – his attent
iveness and good treatment is something out of my comfort zone after years in a different kind of relationship.  I am tip toeing along…… cautious… it is hard for me to believe that a happy, loving relationship can really come so easily. 
And now, I am here at a dance competition for the first time in years. Someone made a smug comment that it must be hard for me to show up with these unaccomplished dancers considering what a big wig I once was…. as if I should crawl under my chair because I haven’t go the biggest school or best dancers in the room. I am treated with respect for the past, but at the same time as if I am obsolete and have no promise in this field. Ha.
I look at those beautiful students, so fresh and with such great attitudes and I know they have come farther with me in a short time than they could have come with anyone else. I am very proud. I look at my daughter, smiling (and above ground) and know that in a few moments, after she gets off stage, she will run to me and hug me and make a joke about her mistakes. She has a killer sense of humor and we have rediscovered our loving relationship at long last. The people around me have no clue that I feel much more successful now than I ever felt when I was here with ten dozen dancers who could do multiple pirouettes.

I have a new house. A new relationship, no debt, a dog, a business with promise, a good relationship with two out of three of my kids (not perfect, but not bad). All things considered, I feel I’m on track towards happiness at last. 

You see – that would be my side of the story. The other teacher’s big change is that she lost 25 pounds. My big change is that I have 25 pounds of emotional luggage attached to my ribs now and I am back at square one, facing a long hard road if I want to ever retire and pursue my dream to write again. In two years Mark knocked me back twenty.  Ah well. 
 
The point is, when I said the dance world seems stagnant to me, it is not because I can’t appreciate or see that the style popular today is different than what was winning gold trophies 7 years ago. Get real. I see. I process. I learn. Quick. People shouldn’t underestimate me. The thing is – the dance world really hasn’t changed. But I HAVE CHANGED. I’ve evolved. I’ve had additional training in physical movement and anatomy with yoga that makes me see bodies and movement differently. I do not react to others as I once did and my patience has expanded thanks to yoga. I feel a sense of poignancy and tenderness when I see young children. I worry about the psyche of young artists and their future with dance…I deeply honor the relationship between mothers and daughters in a whole new way. I see everything about dance differently now, more clearly. I have wisdom and experience and a whole different perspective on life and art. Frankly, I’m teaching better than ever before, and I can still dance thanks to yoga and some weird force in the universe that makes my body sing when music starts playing. The other day, a parent shook her head and laughed as I left my class and said, “I’d like to see the lady on dance mom’s do what you just did.”
Recently,Neva looked at me and said, “It’s weird that my mom can be so fierce on the dance floor. But you are…. ”
Yes, I’m older but I can still dance. And I believe the dance world needs me more than ever before.
 
Am I ever going to be a heavy hitter again – the mover and shaker of the dance world.  Do I even want to be? Not really. Am I “important” as I once was? It all depends on what benchmark you use to define “important.” I certainly am not here to make money and prove myself as I once was.         
I think the real question is “am I going to make a difference in other people’s lives by returning to the danced world? Have I made a good choice for me, for students, for my kids, and for dance as an art? Can I use what I’ve learned to be a better teacher or to create a great school that has an important place in the bigger scheme of life?
I’ve thought a lot about that this weekend and I have an answer.
 
You betcha. A better question might be,  will I ……  or will I decide that the opportunity costs of building a strong school are too much for someone who wants to live a life that is balanced and happy?
Time will tell.