Literary Adventures in Blue Ridge

Posted on October 30, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock

Every couple of months, my former reading student, Kathy, gives me a call just to say “Hi”. Not much changes in her world, but I appreciate her keeping in touch. After several years devoted to helping her learn to read and being a compassionate cheerleader as she gained control of her life, I can’t help but worry now about what might happen as various positive influences drop away and she goes it alone. When she calls, I usually invite her to lunch and we go out, but there isn’t much to say any more. I ask how she’s doing, and she always paints an upbeat picture (because she has a very positive nature) but her life is still a struggle. She asks about my world, but due to the nature of our relationship, I don’t share much. After a few minutes, we fall into silence.

 I ask about her reading, and she confesses that she could use a brush up lesson, but we never really plan anything. She insists she’s using what she learned from me, and always has an example to share, such as a note sent home from school that she responded to all on her own, but it is clear she hasn’t any desire to progress further in her literate journey. She reads only as much as is required to struggle through forms and/or messages from school. 


She joined a drama club at church, but told me the director reads the plays to her and then encourages her make up her own lines for her role. “That makes it easy,” she said.  I nodded as if that was lovely, but inside I wanted to reach out and take her by the shoulders, look into her eyes and say, ‘You can read those lines yourself. Dig in and do it.” But I remained silent knowing this is something that has to come from within her, not me.

She often comments that she might want to start up our tutoring sessions again, but I know it isn’t because she wants to learn more.She just misses sharing time with me.  

 The other day, she came into the studio for the first time.I showed her around and she paused in the lobby to look at everything hanging on the walls. Her eyes landed on the dance pictures of former students and me and exclaimed how impressive they were, but her eyes skipped all the articles. I know she’s capable of figuring out what the headlines are, if not the long text, but it is clear Kathy still has selective vision.  She blanks out the written word, focusing on images to understand things. A literate person recognizes key words and when that peeks their curiosity, will read at least a few lines of an article, but words still don’t register with Kathy unless they are presented as mandatory reading. If she deems a message important, she will make a concentrated effort to sound out the letters. As you can imagine, this keeps reading a chore rather than a natural and/or enjoyable skill. Who can blame her for avoiding it.

 I devoted more than two years to helping Kathy learn to read, but while I wish I had left her more skilled,  I wouldn’t say I’m disappointed by this outcome. I know I’ve improved her life and self esteem drastically, and I was a friend when she really needed one.  But I can’t help but wonder if she wouldn’t have done better with someone more qualified – someone trained in elementary education that might have presented the information in a way that anchored in better. Then again, I know Kathy well enough I can honestly say she probably wouldn’t have lasted more than a month or two with a more formal teacher, so considering that, I was likely the best person for the job. Still, I’m left with an unsettled feeling, as if I fell short of the goal for us both. 

 I invited Kathy to come take a yoga class anytime on me, and handed her a schedule (which naturally, she didn’t bother to glance at.) She admitted she had no idea what yoga is, so I tried to explain it in terms that she would find appealing. She said she would definitely try a class someday, but she hasn’t shown up, and I seriously doubt she ever will. I’ll call her at the end of the season and invite her to the recital, because I know that is something she’ll enjoy. Meanwhile, we’ll continue to keep in touch, but I think my involvement in literacy, at least my Kathy project, is a closed book. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say it’s a book that never got really fully opened. 

 It is what it is, but still, it kills me. I just wish I did more . . .  or better. 

So, now I am turning my literary interests (and the MFA) to a new area. I’m spending today preparing my “Journaling for Deeper Awareness” class which begins next Wednesday. Several enthuasiastic adults have registered for the course, and I’m hoping for more participants this week.  I’m deep in the throws of research and planning now to assure this will be a truly inspirational class. It’s really important to me and I’m absolutely delighted that I’ve created an opportunity to teach writing at last. I plan to use these FLEX courses to refine my skills as an educator (in writing) in hopes of becoming an adjunct teacher in a college one day. (50 years old and still dreaming. Somebody shoot me.) but mostly, I’m looking forward to sharing what I love with others, opening new doors that just might lead students to personal insight and creativity. You gotta hand it to me, I believe whole heartedly in what I do. As a teacher, I think that is as good place to start as any. 


 

  

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Do the right thing

Posted on October 30, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock


Someone sent this to me as an e-mail to forward to others, but I don’t really have an e-mail address list since changing to a mac, so I thought I’d post it here. Don’t be lazy. Look at this face, and do the right thing.


 Hi, all you animal lovers!
 This  is pretty  simple… Please ask ten  friends to each ask a further ten today!  
 The Animal Rescue Site is having trouble getting  enough  people to click on it daily so they can meet their quota of   getting FREE FOOD donated every  day to abused and neglected animals.  It takes less than a minute  (about 15 seconds) to go to their site  and click on the purple box  ‘fund food for animals for free’. This  doesn’t cost you a thing.  
 Their corporate  sponsors/advertisers use the number of  daily visits to donate food  to abandoned/neglected animals in  exchange for advertising.
 Here’s the web site! Please pass it  along to people you know.
 http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/
   
 AGAIN, PLEASE TELL 10  FRIENDS!  
  

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TURKEY TIME

Posted on October 26, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock

As leaves begin to drift from trees and your breath starts to make fog in the chill air when you bend over to pick up your paper in the morning, there is no denying that fall has come. And that means Ginny is going to have to do something about those turkeys, right? It would be unfair for me to leave you wondering how the great turkey experiment turned out, so today I’ll give you final chapter – or at lease as much of it as I can, thus far.

 

A few weeks ago, I started feeling what can only be called mild anxiety each time I fed my gigantic toms. My cute, little fuzzy chicks had grown and grown, until now they were the size of a Shetland pony – and they were eating like one too. My three surviving turkeys were plowing through a full 50-pound bag of feed every five days, and still acting starved each time they saw me.  Growing a turkey from scratch can be expensive, and when I added up the cost of the original chick($10.00) along with 6 months of feed, I figured each of my healthy, organic turkeys had demanded about a $150.00 investment so far, and Thanksgiving was still a ways away.  Obviously,organic farming on a small scale is not cost effective, (thus the explanation of industrial farming practices and why they survive despite society’s awareness of the pitfalls to the environment and people’s health – but that is another subject.) So, keeping these birds indefinitely as pets would cost as much as a big dog without half the emotional rewards, (no interest to me, really) besides which, I had promised all along that we would eat these creatures before winter set in. But just looking into their innocent faces made me start to feel guilty, and lets be honest here, there’s no way I’m ever going to lift a hand to harm a creature –despite all my bravado.

Mark has insisted he could find someone to slaughter the three birds for us for Thanksgiving if I would be willing to allow the person to keep one, and I agreed that would be fair.  If you are going to cook a turkey for Thanksgiving, you can’t decide the poor sod’s miserable life (the one you bought from the grocery store) doesn’t count as much as the bird you know. That’s a double standard. But still, the fact that I could agree to do it doesn’t mean I like the idea of sending my adored birds off to slaughter.

Nevertheless, I was still grateful I had embraced the great turkey experiment. I am curious about the world, and I rather learn about it through experience than just having an intellectual understanding of things gained from books or school– and I now have hands on understanding on the life cycle of the turkey. I know what these birds look like as babies, then adolescents, and finally, as adults. I know when their white mask face starts turning bluish,and when the little nub on their beak grows long and flops over, hanging towards the ground all wrinkled and pink like a stretched out gizzard growing on the outside. Icky.  I have picked up decorative turkey feathers for safekeeping, touched a turkey’s rubbery head, and observed turkey behavior day after day. I know how a turkey’s voice sounds, how it changes as they mature and the way it cracks like a prepubescent boy’s voice when they first start to gobble. I know at what stage their hormones kick in and the boys start to puff up and primp for the girls, vying for their attention. These are things you could never truly grasp, not the visual and sensual experience, by reading a book or seeing bunch of turkeys in a pen on a farm some weekend afternoon. More importantly, I’ve learned how cute a turkey could be. They have this silly waddle when they walk or run, because their legs are sprawled, barely able to support their body mass.  They are fearless, and will walk between your legs or rub against your arm when you crouch down to fill their bowl. They grow attached to whoever is feeding them, and tend to follow you about like a dog. Their trusting innocence is endearing.

So, as you can imagine, I now had this huge dilemma – a true fondness for my three birds. They are ungraceful and dirty, and they eat like a pig, true, but that describes most of the men I’ve known (and loved) so it’s not these traits are enough to justify slaughtering them. (The men reading this sigh in relief.)   

 I decided to just ignore the situation, Scarlett O’Harastyle, and worry about that tomorrow. Thanksgiving was still a month away, after all. Perhaps I’d come up witha solution – or more aptly, the bravery to act on a solution. But nature must have sensed my problem and taken pity on me, because she decided to take matters into her own hands.

A few weeks ago, in the morning,  I went to feed my birds and spied feathers spread out all over the grounds. Turkey feathers. White. Uh Oh. Not that I was surprised. My big fat toms had a habit of sleeping on the ground near the chicken house because they are fat and thus uncomfortable perching up high and they’ve never tried going into the hen house. I’ve always known this made them sitting ducks for prey, but what ya gonna do?  Something, a fox perhaps, had decided to have his thanksgiving feast early. I took stock. My girl turkey was sleeping on top of a chicken pen, and one of the boys was running towards me with that hungry lookin his eyes. It was my biggest, most robust Tom that had been taken down. Figures.

 I looked about to see if their were any remains, and sure enough, the bulk of a turkey carcass was sitting way out in the pasture by the creek. Now, picking up the remains of a little chicken that has been snagged in the night is one thing. I was not up for picking up 50 pounds of mauled turkey. Besides which, I had to go to work. So, I left him there, hoping whatever was hungry enough to attack and eat him last night might come finish the job the next night.  And whatever it was did. Thank you very much.

Now, I was worried about my two surviving turkeys, but I confess, a part of me was sort of OK with what had happened. I’ve been accepting of the circle of life ever since that song grabbed me in that disney movie, and I don’t feel negligent considering the birds are being well cared for and they have shelter, even though instinct drives them to sleep elsewhere.  Three turkeys is a lot of turkeys to care for and worry about. Two, I could handle.  And a fox has to eat too. So, that’s that.

Until, a few days later I arrived to find more feathers scattered about.  Tom number two had hit the dust. Whatever was eating my birds certainly selected the biggest and best for himself each time.  I didn’t see any of the remains, but I did start to feel pretty badly for my last remaining female. Was that loneliness and anxiety I was reading in her eyes, or was I projecting those feelings because I’ve had them too lately? Humm….

That night, I went to the barnyard late to feed the horses. I felt a need to check on things – concerned for my last turkey. When I didn’t see her anywhere, I assumed the worst. She is a huge white bird, so usually, I can spot here easily in the night, huddled on top of the short chicken pen. The fact that she sleeps off the ground is the rea
son she survived beyond the others, no doubt, (Girls are so often the smart ones, you must agree) but if a hunter is hungry enough, it will crawl up to get her, I know.  

Just as I was feeling that sad acceptance, I spotted something white peeking over the roof of the chicken house. There she was. Barb, my female turkey. Hiding 9 feet in the air behind the pointed roof. Ha. She must have witnessed both her boys being dragged off and thought, “Well, that ain’t happen’ in to me.” So she took it upon herself to find higher ground. Now, she sleeps there every night.

 So, I have one female turkey that hangs with the chickens now. She is sweet and healthy – and other than being lonely, seems well adjusted enough. Considering the trauma she has been under, I’m going to just leave her be.  She’s earned it. And all’s well that ends well because there is only one thing about turkeys I didn’t get to experience, and that is holding a turkey egg, cooking it and seeing how it differs from chicken, peacock or duck eggs. Birds lay eggs even without a male around to fertilize it, so if she survives, this spring I’ll still have one last turkey discovery to make. Turkey egg omlets. I’d like that.

 Like all life experiences, it will depend on nature and fate. And luck. 

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ON THE NEW BUSINESS FRONT

Posted on October 23, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock

Life is plugging away – some of it good, some of it bad, none of it what I had in mind when I wiped the slate clean to “start over.”Ha.  That is the true definition of life, is it not? Surprise. Frustration. Being endlessly pelted with curve balls and realizing you can’t dodge them all. It’s also the inevitable conclusion of sharing your life with another person. In the end, no two people share exactly the same vision or agenda, and compromise is a forgone conclusion to coupledom. Aye, there’s the rub. You can plan together and agree on things all you want, but when push comes to shove, a time will come when one person pursues their own interest with such tunnel vision intensity they don’t pause to consider how it impacts everyone else.Then, it’s only a matter of time until everybody involved is unhappy and feeling misunderstood, or worse, resentful. But going separate directions is not a malicious thing – just a result of the subtle differences in each individual’s heart and mind about how life should be approached. What ya gonna do? You can’t change the inherent priorities in someone else’s world. Life’s complicated. Marriage is complicated. Trying to meet the needs of opposing dreams within one family is complicated. Fact. But compromise and disappointmentis not what this blog is about.  Think of that paragraph as a vague apology for my lapsed writing. I’ve become an absentee blogger. I’m sorry.

So, I thought I’d talk a bit about my new business today.  Happily, I can report its gaining steam steadily. Some days the classes feel empty and I get depressed,wondering why the heck I opened a new business and started planting permanent roots in a place that presents such obstacles due to small-town cultural and financial restraints. Other days, the energy is fantastic, the rooms are filled with kids or the yoga loft is packed with lovely adults who all seem intelligent and open and I feel this overwhelming sense of purpose and right place.  This is my authentic work, and if I have to have a job at all, this should be it. In truth, teaching and running a dance and/or arts school isn’t just a job, but a career that I’ve prepared for through many, many years of study, commitment and experience. Not like I could work at Home Depot or in an office and ever feel at ease. So, I am back in a studio, my mind filled with memories of 32 years of teaching in different situations and places and considering what I learned from each one.Meanwhile,I wrestle with ideas and plans for long-term program development for this particular dance studio go-round. Most days, I feel pretty positive about it.

 The FLEX Art Center is probably one of the loveliest school’s I’ve ever had the good fortuneto run. It is not only classy and well equipped, but the atmosphere and the people that gather here create a very positive ambiance. You can feel the good energy building each week and so far, all my customers are thrilled with just about everything. In fact, I’ve not heard a single complaint thus far. Amazing.  Everyone believes the school will take off next season, and they’re probably right. The dance parents I have now constantly express gratitude and delight over the training and organization of the school, while the Yoga students thank me constantly for creating this wonderful place where they can gather with like-minded individuals to grow and express themselves. They are sharing news of the school with others and although people react slowly in the country and take their time checking things out, FLEX is getting a great reputation. People are talking, and every thing they’re saying is good, I’m told.

 I enjoy going into work each day. I arrive early and plug in a 5-gallon pot of tea water, then go to the loft and light candles and prepare a reading or poem for my yoga class. Next, I go downstairs and clean. I Windex the observation windows and front door and make sure the bathroom is clean, then putter in the studios, organizing. It’s been years since I’ve had to clean my own school, but I don’t mind. Its quiet and meditative and I take great pride in making the place feel clean and welcoming. People gather in the lobby to share a cup of tea before or after class, or sometimes a yoga student will fix a drink in a to-go cup and pause a few minutes at the front desk to talk before taking off to handle the rest of their day. Since learning about a student’s stresses and physical challenges is important to my role as yoga teacher, I truly listen. I’m engaged with their lives and I feel an intimate connection with so many new people now. This honest communication leaves a calm feeling of goodwill and friendship in the air.  Always wanted that in a school.

 In the meantime, the school has been officially opened (taking registration) for 6 weeks and with 50 dance students and an equal number of yoga students that stop by for class one to three times a week, I can pay all the overhead and the salary for my full time employee (Denver). Every day, new students wander in for both divisions of the school, so it is obvious I’m on the upward slope.  In fact, if things continue progressing as they are I’ll need to expand the yoga loft. I can double its size if I extend the floor, so the upstairs will become a huge second floor rather than a loft. This would not only allow space for more students, but also offer much needed quiet and more flexibility in regards to scheduling. When dance classes are going on downstairs, the noise of jazzy music and excited kids floats up, which as you can imagine, totally kills the peace and quiet needed to present a powerful yoga experience. I’d love to close off the space. Then there is the fact that some nights I’m squeezing 15 students (with their long yoga mats) into a space that is really more comfortable with 12. Yes, expanding would be fantastic. But then again, some classes have only three or four students,and most of my classes this year have been carefully scheduled to begin before or after dance classes take place.  I don’t want to spend more money on leasehold improvements than necessary for a space I don’t own – so I’ll make do.  Still, I’ve got a three-year lease, so expansion is probably inevitable in the future. Guess I’ll take that one-day at a time.

I spend a great deal of my time alone at the studio. It ispeaceful.  Mark teaches a teen hip-hop class and two classes for our teen boys (acro and hip hop) two evenings a week.  He had a few ballet classes on the schedule for adults and teens, but we are canceling them due to the pain this creates in his hips.  He really can’t dance at all anymore, and teaching is very physically painful for him, so he wants out. This is hard for me to accept because he is so remarkably talented. I watch his class, awed as always, and this more than anything else makes me miss the old days – how I loved the artistic exchange we shared. It is glorious to see him work his magic with dancers.  But his body has made it clear he is meant to do something else now and other than these few classes, he’s not much involved in this school, although he did help me slap together a quick website, ordered some brochures for me online and helped plan a magazine ad. Yes, I’m still a total dink regarding self- sufficiency in areas of technology and that is a real bother for Mark. I know he gets annoyed when I ask for help of any kind, so, I’m learning to fudge my way through things. I’m now tackling the set up of QuickBooks. I took a class on the dang program, yet still, being in charge of it intimidates me. Gee, you know you’re an old
fart when you long for simpler days when a pencil and graph paper is how you did your accounting.

Anyway, I’m pretty much left to myself to teach, market, organize, and run the school as Mark continues with his real estate business. Even though I began as a solo studio owner, that has been weird for me– a total adjustment regarding studio management. Being on my own often makes me sad, but then I remind myself returning to dance and evolving into a yoga teacher was something I wanted. I must remind myself that wanting help is more about habit and feeling isolated, than need. And the truth is, I’m not alone. I couldn’t have accomplished this first year without Denver. She is so mature now- an amazing dance teacher who understands the vision of the school as well as the syllabus and systems, and her involvement has made all the difference in the world. From day one, the people in this town are being introduced to an authentic FLEX. Meanwhile, Denver is also mid way through her own yoga training– something she was dying to do, so I agreed to pay for her training, not only because the school could use another yoga instructor, but because I wanted her to enjoy the experience for personal growth. Now, she’s starting to hang out in the evenings to do hands-on assisting (correcting people) as I teach yoga, and she’s a natural. It’s a fantastic thing for everyone – her, the FLEX students and me. She is happy and growing as an individual, helping her mom in an important way, and soon she’ll be certified and can sub yoga classes as well add a few classes of her own to the schedule – a path to her own individual growth.    I seriously doubt she’d ever have learned just how gifted a teacher she is at the old FLEX. There, it was too easy to take a backseat to other, more experienced teachers and to ride on the FLEX reputation and her position as daughter of the king and queen of the empire. We needed this time alone, a fresh start, and the challenge of beginning from scratch to truly unearth her creativity and communication and organizational skills. And she has. She is remarkable and I’m so proud of her.

 I should point out that Neva is no slouch either. In a fewshort months, her dancing has blossomed. She is beautiful and probably one of the best performers I’ve had the joy to work with in ages. Can’t wait to see where that goes. But she kicks in and helps us as an assistant. Yes, the new FLEX is definitely a Hendry girls’ project, and that is quite lovely too. Kent graces the door only for the two hours a week he is there with his friends taking class. He is strong and skilled and my heart sort of breaks when I see his latent potential, but a little acro and hip hop for fun is enough dance for him so that’s that. But. Man, his legs are long and straight and he has these great feet and a gorgeous back and such style and . . . sigh. 

 Of course, good classes aren’t enough to get a new business off the ground. First, you have to get students in the door so they know what they’re missing and we’ve been working like a demon to that end. Since we didn’t seem to have any preschoolers enrolled, I volunteered to teach at the local head-start preschool. Every other Friday I go in and teach 7 classes in arow for 135 preschoolers ages 3-4. Whew. It knocks me out, but you can bet I’m making people aware of FLEX ‘s strong children’s program. Next, Denver and I offered to teach a Girl Scout party so a troop could get their dance badges, but instead of one troop coming, the leader announced it to all the scouts at a bingo fundraiser, and we ended up with 47 scouts showing up for this wild dance awareness session. I was in one room with the older girls doing partner hip-hop with Neva, and Denver was in the other, doing a dance with backlights. We gathered everyone together for the lecture and then closed with some shadowdancing.  Parents were milling about, reading everything, picking up brochures, looking at pictures and articles on the walls, awed. The kids went wild. Needless to say, that evening was extremely successful.  And people talk . . .

 Now, this weekend, we are hosting an in-house Halloween party, just like the early days of FLEX in Florida. I built a gigantic shadowscreen out of PVC pipe and a queen size sheet (I spent an afternoon with supplies I dragged to the studio from home depot, along with one hand saw and a vague idea of how to accomplish the feat. Lots of cussing ensued, but I made abigger and better shadow screen than the one I had in the previous school (and much less expensive).  Denver decorated the studios with blowup pumpkins and skeletons (all in dance positions, I might ad) and we passed out hundreds of invitations. We are expecting at least a hundred kids tomorrow night, with an earlier party for the little ones ages 3-6 before hand. Eek. We are blowing up balloons, serving cake and treats, and have an art room set up in the yoga loft for kids to make masks. Downstairs, we have plans for shadow dancing, dancing with flashlights, backlight dancing, and much more. We even have a short show and plans to light up a stage area for it.  Hopefully, we’re ready! I’ll let you know how it goes.

 Next weekend, Blue Ridge has their huge Halloween bashdowntown. Since cabins in the mountains make door-to-door trick or treating impossible, local businesses set up tables to give out candy to area kids downtown. The merchants’ organization sponsors a costume contest and other fun activities,and thousands of people gather for the festivities. Um. Big celebration, you say? We’re there. We are setting up a booth and giving out candy attached to“free class” postcards with school information – pixie sticks for kids and chocolate for parents (on a yoga card). I made huge banners so people know who we are every time we dance, because yes, we are also dancing at the festivities. Denver and I choreographed a few numbers with some of our classes,and they turned out surprisingly good considering we only have new, beginner dancers to work with. We went with strong gimmicks, of course. She did a dance with stools, and I did a dance that involved the dancers using huge posters of their faces (had a photographer make a very artsy black and white pix as a prop which we blew up and put on foamcore) and it turned out  visually dynamic. Denver and I are even dancing together in the show, a ploy to make sure people associate strong dance to the school. We threw together this very fast, wild tap number to Ghost busters (a tan jump suit equipped with a ghost-bustingbackpack that shoots silly string into the audience is about as serious as I plan to get if I’m going onstage at 50.) Two dancing ghosts (kids moving in a stretchybag, enter midway through and we do some partner work with them. It’s funny and cute and greatly entertaining. It’s been a kick dancing with Denver and I must say, all time off aside, we’re still a strong tap team. We have compatible style, equal technique and a shared sense of humor. Our downfall is we laugh too much at ourselves when practicing.

 Of course all this extra activity takes a great deal of effort, but that’s the path to introducing the town to the new FLEX Arts Center in a way that will set the right tone for the school. Creating fun energy is very important to the general atmosphere. What I miss most about the old FLEX isn’t the accomplished dancers or success of the business.  I just miss the laughter and playfulness that made going to work inspirational.  That is something I plan to recreate.       

 Beyond that, I should point out that I’m not trying to make this FLEX a copy of the former one – just wanting to hold on to certain positive elements I was always proud of. But I’m different now and so this school has to be different,with different goals and influences. For example, next month begins my “Journaling for Deeper Awareness” class. I’ve wanted to teach a writing class ever since I graduated, so I put together a concept and offered a 6-week session in the yoga newsletter. Sure enough, people signed up. I’m so delighted. I’ll be teaching journaling techniques and an introduction to memoir writing in November, and hopefully, this will be a beginning, which will lead to many other writing courses. You can bet I could never have made the yoga and writing courses work in Sarasota– FLEX was too established and people had certain expectations for the school that made everyone resistant to our branching out in a totally different direction. Here, I’m wide open to new options and a different school vision – and this vision is kinder, more heartfelt and definitely more committed to personal enrichment for students than before – in the past, we killed ourselves to meet the demands of insatiable parents that seemed driven by ego and a desire to pursue things that deep down, we didn’t feel was good for the growth and development of young people.   The truth is, the school grew so big that it took on a life of it’s own, and with so many people involved in the process of training, each with their own agenda and concept of what theater and dance education should be all about despite our training, the school grew into an institution that was no longer a good fit for the Hendry’s.  I guess everything in life has its time and place and we recognized when our influence was no longer having impact. Change is a part of life. Sad, but beautiful too.

 Anyway, I have a new business demanding my time and energy,but it sure does make me feel alive and connected to my roots. It offers me a chance to explore new sides of my personality while also honoring my past – and this makes it a very special project.

Meanwhile, I’m getting ready to reopen the KIDDANCE Company and planning new products for dance teachers as well as an on-line newsletter of creative dance concepts, just to assure financial stability for the school. I feel I have to balance out the limitations from being in a small town, I guess.  I am also seriously contemplating more education (no I am NOT an education junkie – but as I branchout and expand my awareness, I can’t help but feel compelled to learn more about my new field.)

Ready for this? This time, I’m looking into massage therapy.There is a weekend program in Atlanta (one of the best schools in the country) that will lead to full certification after 17 months (eek – that is a long time to give up weekends and take on homework, not to mention embracing another student loan) but I would learn everything about massage therapy and holistic healing – from Swedish massage and shiatsu, to nutrition, pressure point acupuncture,and about a dozen therapeutic massage techniques. So, I’m toying with the idea. I plan to visit the facility next week. Becoming a certified massage therapist would help me expand the healing arts division of this school and give me a skill that would support me if ever I should need a different career. The factis, I’m not going to be able to dance forever, and while I can always be a school director, the recent period of time when I didn’t own a business of my own taught me that my work related skills are pretty narrow. I have a degree in business and all, but when push comes to shove, I’ve never held a regular job, so what good would I be to any company but my own? I would feel more secure if I was trained to do something else, just in case I ever needed or wanted different employment. Massage therapy is a very compatible career with yoga and dance, and it’s something you can do part time or in semi-retirement.  It’s a well paid sideline or full time job, and it offers flexibility and freedom – something I’ve learned is necessary for me to be happy. Even if the training just leads me to adding massage to the school services, and I later hire someone else to do the actual massages, being certified would help me understand quality care so I’d know how to best incorporate this division of an arts and holistic health enter – it would help me know who to hire, understand state laws etc… And face it, I’mf ascinated with the human body and how it works and I’m all about organic healing now . . . I’d love to someday have a big health-oriented center that includes art and dance and organic classes and services like meditation, yoga,and writing for personal growth.  Add to this the fact that I love connecting with people, love TOUCHING people, (and I’m told I have a great touch, don’t ya know) and love learning new things and well – it seems a natural fit. But I still have to give more school thought – gotta consider how such a choice would impact everyone else . . ya da, ya da. (Eating my own words, now, aren’t I?) And if the dance division of the school takes off, will I really have the strength to turn away to attend to other interests? At the heart, I am and always will be a dancer first.  This took 50 years to learn, but it’s true.

So that’s the big picture overview on my new biz.

I’m sorry I don’t write much anymore. My life has been inturmoil for the last 18 months or so, so I’ve chosen to lay off blogging. Somewhere along the way I reached a place where I instantly fall into this gut level of honesty when writing, which means that its best I keep my thoughts private when things are rough. No reason to aggravate my soul any more than necessary or to share my stresses with the world. Heck, the world has enough stress of it’s own that it doesn’t need my complaints floating out there in cyberspace.  I haven’t written a thing really in a long, long while – creativity shuts down when you feel badly. But I’m guessing, with the journaling class coming up, I’ll be writing more and feeling more positive, so that means I can return to light subject blogging as well – yes, more about turkeys and ducks and country adventures.  Of course, my blogs will always be too long and too mixed regarding subject matter to be an easy read or to gain a good following. But hey, I like it that way. It means only a few good friends will suffer through them and bother to return now and again.

 So, considering that, let me send you a smile and a shrug.

Life. Go figure.  Ya just gotta roll with it.

It is what it is.

Never perfect, but at least it is always interesting . . .

 

Until next time . . .    

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CIRCLING AROUND AGAIN

Posted on September 15, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock


The studio is creeping along just as I figured it would starting from scratch in this small town. Amazingly, it’s the yoga classes that have taken off, which is inspirational to me – I absolutely love teaching movement in this new form. In the beginning I stayed fairly accurate to what was introduced in my yoga alliance training, but that felt limiting and repetitive,so it didn’t take long for me to follow instinct and begin teaching the concepts of yoga by combining the traditional poses and yoga terminology with my understanding of physical development and movement from years of dance. It gives me this huge well of ideas and philosophies to draw from and everyday I make new teaching discoveries as a class unfolds. Sometimes suggestions or explanations come out of my mouth (inspired from what I am feeling or experiencing as I demonstrate in the class) and I wonder where the heck that came from – but it’s perfect and enhances the moment, and I feel I’m right where I belong at this stage in life. I’m in the yoga zone. It’s pretty cool.    

 My adult students come in everyday with warm smiles and open minds. This is the sort of person yoga attracts, so it is easy to feel attached and to care about their progress. More often than not, they have physical issues because yoga is so very therapeutic, and I spend my evenings reading,reading, reading, to keep up and learn about each student’s specific issue. If someone comes in with fibermylasia, sciatica pain, or arthritis, I’m ready –been knee deep in literature about these physical problems all month. I have one student fighting cancer, several with lower back issues and quite a few just battling serious stress.  I am committed to helping them. I’ve already seen progress – and so have they – they keep returning and often mention how they feel their body responding. There is something so lovely about the restorative qualities of yoga. Dance is all about art, but yoga is all about people. It is nice to focus on people for a change–to strike a more intimate connection with students at this stage of life.

 Teaching yoga (I’m currently teaching 7 classes a week –soon to add a special chair class for the flexibility challenged) keeps my own stress at bay. I have this deep sense of peace that nothing can shake. All the breathing,inner focus, and calm quiet that is a part of every class is anchored inside me now and because this makes the world feel more peaceful and decent, I want to share that inner quiet with others. I’m rather passionate about my classes –serious about making them effective.

 Meanwhile, I’m all into enhancing the comfort and ease of my students in every class while also pushing the body to new limits. So I use straps, blankets, blocks, chairs or the wall to create comfortable alignment in classic positions.  I roll and foldblankets for supported poses and walk around nestling my students into comfortable poses for deep relaxation. I’m ordering sandbags to give natural assistance to some poses and yesterday I purchased materials to make weighted eyebags with silk – filling them with flaxseed and lavender so students can feel slight pressure (relieves headaches) and enjoy darkness and aroma when they relax in the final portion of the class (savasana). It is sort of funny, because my staff used to kid me all the time about how often I used props in dances to enhance the theatrics of a piece. Heck, my children’s dance program is loaded with props to make exercises fun and the room is outfitted withlights and hands on apparatus to inspire. Is it any wonder I took to yoga props immediately?

 So, yoga is going well and I am delighted that I’ve added this to my arsenal of life experiences. Adding yoga to the dance studio also changes the entire feeling of the facility. I have a tea caddy downstairs so dance parents and yoga students can help themselves to organic tea whilewaiting in the lobby.  I take the time to talk to everyone, to learn about their lives beyond the studio. Many of my dance parents are wandering into the yoga classes, which forms a great relationship. I’m working hard to make this school a welcoming place where people connect – I want the new FLEX to be filled with positive energy, a place people want to hang out to escape from the stress of their lives – a placewhere you just soak up the creativity. Ah – I’m sounding foolishly romantic. But this is the kind of school I want this time around. I’ve had enough of the competitive, aggressive, dance fanatics to last a lifetime. I just don’t have it in me to fight the dance ego struggle with angry parents anymore. This time around, I want my dance parents to be my friends and I want everyone, parents, teachers, and students, to work together to make the dance experience lovely for all involved. I guess I’m naïve to think this can happen. So shoot me.

 Teaching dance again has been interesting. Mark and I went to Florida to teach some master classes and solos to former students. The event took place at the school of one of our previous students, now all grown up with a teaching career of her own. We’ve been careful to stay out of the dance struggles going on in Florida, especially since all the competing new schools are run by former FLEX students. The fact is we still care deeply about everyone of those now grown up “kids” struggling to build businesses of their own, but we agreed to go to this particular school because this former student has been a true friend despite everything that has transpired in the dance world.She actually came up and painted our new school the moment she heard we were opening, just to be supportive, and hey, need I point out that I didn’t go paint hers?

 She has never failed to recognize our part in her development as a dancer – has always shown appreciation and respect for us as mentors and friends, and wouldn’t dream of turning her anger towards us when the dance world in Sarasota got frustrating in the wake of our leaving. And though she is quick to pick my brain regarding studio management and has had many long talks to collect advice for her new school – she has never asked anything from us – even though I’m sure she would have liked to. So when she called and told us one of her central teachers had left without notice just as the season was opening and now she was stuck with too many students wanting solos to service, and kids were on the fence about staying or going, we were like,“Hey, if we can help, we’re there.” We’ve seen enough damage done to dance studios by teachers leaving and soliciting students to last a lifetime. So we agreed to teach so solos.  As expected, she made the visit positive in every way, even added a master class to make sure our travel and time away from home was compensated for. Her idea,not ours. She has a lot of class.


  It was lovely seeing all the familiar faces, seeing how our former students did or did not progress as dancers in our absence. Everyone’s attitude was positive and respectful – and it’s been a long time since we’ve experienced that in Florida.We drove down, taught for two days and drove home all in 48 hours. It was a killer, and my mom wasn’t pleased (hey, we were on a mission) . But seeing everyone gave us a good idea of what the students need now.We’ll be going back in a few weeks to finish some pieces, and this time I’ll be far more prepared (for mom too). I didn’t know what to expect from the first visit, but now I’ve had time to consider the levels, training needs, etc. of those aspiring dancers who bothered to attend. If I see them again, you can bet I’ll give them a dance challenge they need and deserve.

 Anyway, coming home to our little fledgling school with beginners who don’t know how to stand properly was a poignant experience. I guess you can say we’ve come full circle. I can’t believe we are beginning the entire dance process again, but as I look into the innocent faces of our cute,clueless new students I see possibilities they have yet to dream of.  It is a prime example of life – how circular it can be. Everything changes. Evolves. Shifts. Change breeds growth and that breathes life into our days. Change is painful, but good too. And it’s not like you can avoid it.

 Anyway, while in Florida, a dear friend took some pictures for us. I grabbed a dance student and posed her for some yoga shots for my newbrochure. The dancer looks great – not too groomed as a dance model would be, and just adult enough to seem like a regular yoga student. But at the same time, she is strong, flexible and has beautiful line. (I wasn’t about to usemyself -too old to be a model for fitness, that’s for sure.) I was so appreciative to both the dancer and the photographer – good friends who didn’t hesitate to do me the favor the minute I mentioned it. So, now once again, there are glimpses of the past making a subtle presence in our new life.  I couldn’t love that brochure featuring a beloved former student on the cover more even if I had a world famous yoga guru singing my praises on the front.


 

Ah – it is time to get my kids up for school. Enough rambling. Next time, I’ll tell you about my chicken and duck sharing a nest, and getting confused about parenting the eggs that hatched. I think we need poultry therapy. It’s bizzare…… 

I HOPE YOU FIND PEACE TODAY.  OM…..

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A horse of the same color

Posted on August 27, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock

Yesterday, I got a new horse. I exchanged my 8 year old high
bred, gorgeous saddle bred pinto with blue eyes and the sweetest disposition
ever, for a plain grey quarter horse that was once owned by a cowboy. Tough on
the heart to let one go, let me tell you. This new horse (named Nuther Bandit on his
registration papers) is calm, shy and rides western style (we prefer English,
ah well) like a charm. He hasn’t got half the style or flash of my beloved
pinto, Joy, or even as delightful a personality, but he is solid, easy to
handle and I expect it’s only a matter of time until we will build a report.
He’s sweet, but aloof, so much so that he spends his day at the opposite end of
the pasture as Peppy (who could be his twin in looks) and donkey.  Since they are herd animals, horses
usually stick together, so I suppose it will just take time for Bandit to feel
at home and accepted and a part of the equestrian family.

I suppose I should want a horse that looks different from the one I have, but for some reason, I like that my two are now a matched set. The only complaint is that when I look out the window, I’m not always sure which animal I’m seeing. There are subtle differences in the horses, but you have to be close to note them. They are both geldings, both considered “grey” though they are mostly white with light freckles on the neck. Both have warm brown eyes and their main and tail are the same length. Both even have the same georgia clay red stain in their hair. I should get some bleach and work on that one of these days. The new horse is a bit beat up with bits and scratches on his backside – must have been the underdog in his last pasture, but in time I’ll get him sleek and healthy. 

Peppy looks across the pasture wondering why the heck there is a new horse over there . Hummm….. that other fellow sure is handsome. . . . he reminds me of someone, but I can’t figure out who. (Meanwhile, donkey blinks wondering if he needs glasses cause he’s seeing double. He wonders if it time to lay off the weeds…..) 

Cautiously, they’ve begun to make friends, wondering if they have anything in common.  

Yesterday, I ran home after teaching a packed morning yoga
class to see how he was doing. I put my muck boots on to trek through the creek
to where he was standing and gave him some carrots. I’m guilty of feeding
animals (and people) to make them love me.  He let me scratch his ears and looked me in the eyes as if
he was assessing whether I was worthy of his friendship. I assured him I was.

 Bandit has been set out in a pasture for the last 6 years,
only coming in to ride occasionally. He’s never set foot in a barn or stall,
and never been fed anything but grass and hay. I will have to be gentle in
introducing him to the finer lifestyle that includes shelter when the weather
is bad and some grain. His good nature is evident in the fact that he can go a
year without being ridden, and then he behaves perfectly when he’s saddled up.
This is exactly what I need. A bomb proof, consistent horse. The reason we
never ride in this family is because we have only one perfect horse and one
beautiful, wild creature that only I can get on. When Neva has a friend over,
they beg to ride, but since I can’t put a child on Joy, and taking turns on one
horse is no fun, we end up skipping it altogether. Now, Neva can ride with
friends, or when non-riding friends come to visit, they can go out for a spin
on the horses safely.  All I have
to do is get over my ego – I happened to like owning a flashy, drop dead
impressive horse. Ah well. The outside of an animal (and a person) isn’t what
counts – what’s important is what’s inside and how animal (or person) enhances
or drains your life.  Can’t cling
to things for the wrong reason.

 I’ve made arrangements with a teen with lots of riding and
showing experience (her mother owns a horse ranch) to trade dance lessons for
riding lessons. She will be coming each week to give Neva a riding lesson using
our two horses, which means both my horses will get exercise and continual
riding to keep in shape. Perfect! And with Neva feeling more confident on a
horse, she will ride more, which means keeping these animals will make sense.
Meanwhile, this little girl with the perfect dance body and good mind will be
taking teen hip-hop and lyrical. It’s a win-win situation for everyone.

 The person who chose to do this horse trade with me is
shocked and delighted that I went for it. She is, after all, getting a horse
worth 3 or 4 times the one she is trading. But Joy is only valuable if she is
trained, and I am not qualified to train her, nor do I want to invest thousands
of dollars for someone else to do the job. In effect, she is not worth much to
me as is, but the other horse has inherent value, and so this trade is fair and
equal. Anyone who studies economics knows that the right price is determined by
equilibrium – supply verses demand. 
What is nice is that we are both very pleased with our new horses. She
has a horse that will be a challenge, but after she puts in the time and
effort, will be a great investment. I have a horse more like what I was
promised when I was shopping for an animal – one that anyone can ride.

Deep down, I had this lurking fear that I’d get hurt riding Joy,
so I was overly cautious with her, not digging in to give her the work she
needs. Not that I’m afraid of a fall or two, but I’m no spring chicken and I
hear stories of people landing wrong and being paralyzed or out of commission
for months. I love to ride, but face it; I’m not interested in huge equestrian
challenges. I only ride for pleasure. It is more about the sun and wind on my
face, the feel of a warm creature under me and birds overhead, than putting a
horse through the paces. 

 So once again, my animal world has shifted. I no longer have
the llamas or angoras, but I have 40 chickens, 3 turkeys, 2 peacocks and some
ducks with great personality. I’ve got donkey, of course, and now two gentle
quarter horses that could be bookends they look so similar.  It is the right amount of
responsibility for me – just enough get me outside everyday and to enjoy
nature, but not so much that I feel inundated with maintenance. I’m still loving
our country lifestyle, but it is nice to have a new business to grow and I’ve
missed dance and the energy that surrounds  kids, music and movement.

 Finding just the right balance takes time, but when you get
there, you start to feel so much more comfortable.

 

 

 

 

      

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Never say never

Posted on August 24, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock



After two yfears of soul searching and considering what I do and don’t want to introduce back into my life, I went ahead finally opened a new dance/yoga studio on August 17. It’s called the FLEX Arts Center – not because I wanted to recreate the school we left behind, but because I already have a logo, theme song, t-shirts and tons of literature written about FLEX as a springboard for the new school.This FLEX is an “arts center” rather than a “dance school” because I wanted to set a foundation for future growth that could venture off into any direction. I have a different sort of vision for this school, one that encompasses a variety of art forms and has a very strong yoga element – which ties into many of the natural arts and journaling/writing as well. What can I say, I love dance, but my interests have expanded over the years, and I have no desire to repeat what I’ve done in the past in the same way. Life is too short not to grow and try new things.

Anyway, I’d been working on the project for a few months, writing a business plan, doing research, and talking to a builder to see what the start up costs would be.I had a fancy loan package for banks, but was hitting walls due to the economy and the area banks weakened position. But I was persistent.  I was planning to rent a certain space in an older strip mall that was small and not so glamorous, but affordable -which seemed the way to go considering this studio would be starting from scratch in a town that isn’t dance or yoga oriented . . . yet. When all my ducks were in a row,we called to sign the lease and discovered that after two years of standing empty, someone else had taken an option on the space. I was back at square one. Because a dance studio is seasonal and it was now the mid July, I figured it would be at least another year until I could get the project underway successfully, and since it’s past time I go back to work (and there is nothing available for me regarding employment in this tiny town) I started applying on line for jobs. I even applied to be the arts director for a town in Florida – the person who plans arts festivals etc…. All my other leads were from distant towns as well.  This meant I’d have to temporarily relocate and the plan was that I’d return to visit Mark every two weeks or so. His real estate career is just taking off and our family and finances are now tied up here, so it’s not like we can up and go on a whim. Needless to say, this did not go over well with the spouse. He immediately talked to some realtor friends and the very next day had a new space for me to look at. I guess he figured it was better to find me a studio quick than wait to see where my path would venture next – especially if he wasn’t going to be beside me on a daily basis to keep up.

The space was larger, much nicer, would require only 1/3 the cost of build out – thanks to the configuration of the space and the nice raisedwood floors – and it was not that much more for rent, at least not for the first year thanks to some good negotiating. And with less build out, we could have that school up and running within two weeks. Amazing! This just goes to show that adversity is sometimes good – a sign that things are not meant to be and you should shift direction. Something better was just around the corner for me, and I’m so grateful now that the first space didn’t work out. Anyway, we signed on the dotted line and for the last month, I’ve been in dance school overdrive.  It’s been like the movie Ground Hog Day, as once again I found myself painting the children’s dance room and watching Mark hang favorite dance pictures.


This is, afterall, the eleventh studio I’ve opened in my lifetime. Everything felt so familiar and routine, yet so out of place here in Georgia at the same time. The good news is that each time we begin fresh, we get better at the process, having brought what we learned from the past into our new venture.A 

A view of the lobby from the yoga loft.

The new FLEX has two dance rooms (one a specialized children’s dance center in the Kiddance fashion, of course.) The other is a traditional dance room. 


(Those of you that have worked for me might appreciate the “dance around” in the corner. After years of effort and money trying to have a spinning dance wheel built, I found this perfect teaching aid on e-bay for a song. I can easily attach dance pictures or words or instructions to the pie shapes, or even write on the it with a dry eraser. Simple. Go figure. An ex student, Jill, who now has a studio of her own, came to visit and help me paint and I showed my new find off all gloaty and bragging about how my children’s program was gonna be the bomb. That night, before she even went to bed, she had gone on e-bay to get one herself. Ha. We had a good laugh over that.)


Stragetically placed track lights means our two way mirror actually works the way it should for once. You might note the children’s pink yoga mats (with butterflies) in the corner, the bears that match FLEX colors, the GOOD sturdy chairs. I have a special blacklight unit that is used by nightclubs, as well as a colored mirror ball. Ha – big upgrade in the children’s room thanks to a D-Jay website I stumbled upon. We are good to go. Bring on the kids.


It isn’t a FLEX without parents peering into the window, chuckling over how cute the kids are inside – and no classes are disturbed. We set the rules from day one and so far, everything is running smooth and perfectly. 

Mark tried teaching an adult tap class. Many more people have said they want to
come next week but we are not sure his knees can take it (still having physical problems). I might end up teaching this one.


Note the big black light fixture at the ceiling. Ha. I put what is called a “mushroom” in, which flashes out colored lights like a disco. We don’t use it in classes, but it will be useful for special dance events or parties. I have electrical sources here as well to add perhaps a green lazer. Theater is what dance is all about, after all. Mark makes fun of me for liking these superficial elements, but I figure anything that makes kid’s eyes light up and makes dance more fun is worth putting in. Hey, I have no shame when it comes to making kids adore dance. Not like I do this INSTEAD of training them. It is just the bonus element.

Upstairs there is a large balcony and this has been converted to a yoga loft. It’s a serene space, open and airy with artwork highlighted by pin spots and recessed lighting to keep the mood reflective. I’ve decorated the windows with peacock feathers (from my own peacock, of course) and I have neatly stocked yoga mats, blocks, blankets and other props. It is a beautiful, uncluttered, welcoming space.  More about yoga in a minute.

 Sorry, can’t blow this one up – this was my first ever Yoga class. Fun!  



Office in the front (and because it is exposed, I have to keep my desk clean. Talk about a challenge!) You might recognize the old FLEX benches (we dragged them out of the dumpster when the new owners tossed them out because we knew they were made so well, were in mint condition and we couldn’t bare to see something so usuable tossed like garbage and replaced needlessly – we never dreamed they’d end up in another FLEX, but we thought we might use them someday for something. Frugality counts in the dance world – at least that is how we kept things up and running. Now, it is nice now to have bits and pieces of our former school planted in our new space – like combining past and future for something very special. Guess I’m being grossly romantic, but that is nothing new. 


Small retail area in the corner – it just has some old FLEX shirts and some yoga mat cleaner, yoga mats etc… for now. We’ll add dance supplies when the student body merits a store (and when we can afford it), and we are hoping to make an empty part of the lobby (not shown) into an art gallery featuring Denver’s silver jewelry, Mark’s hand turned bowls etc.. and yoga candles, incense etc…. Who knows…. It has it’s own entrance so it is a perfect set up for retail. For now, we are concentrating on the greatest need – making the programs sound. On the wall we have testimonials from the students who were kind enough to send them to us. Most are from an early generation of FLEX dancers – kids that were very special to me. It is very grounding to see their faces as I come out of class. These dancers from the past remind me of what I am working for and why. It’s very meaningful for me to have their spirit (or at least their words and image) in this new space. 

Running a dance school is something I can do in my sleep, and after years of opening locations (and thanks to dozens of files in my computer from the previous business) getting ready wasn’t all that frustrating. I already had the best staff a dance school could ask for. Me (no cracks from the peanut gallery, please) and Denver (perfectly trained in the FLEX methods) as the full time employees, and then there is this terrific ballet and hip-hop teacher that comes in a few times a week when he is not selling houses. Yes, Mark has donned his sweatpants and baseball cap once again to do what he does so well. Because he only has to be involved part time and can pick and choose what he will and won’t do, he’s enjoying it, at least so far. And in case anyone was wondering, we still got it.  Shocking (especially to us) but true. Thanks to yoga training, I haven’t even been sore, but I’ll admit Mark and I both felt as if we’d been runover by a truck last week. It wasn’t physical; it was something emotional stirring up deep inside. Teaching dance in this new place, a space so like our old school, yet so different, touches something raw inside. It makes you want to celebrate your past and mourn it all at once.  Mostly, I’ve been desperately missing the familiar faces that were such an important part of FLEX to me. I miss the teachers I laughed with and the students I was so proud of. Aw…  I don’t’ want to talk about that now.

We had a soft opening last Monday with free classes for two weeks. It was very weird. All my life, whenever I’ve hung up a dance shingle, students converge, eager and excited.  Naturally, this is what I expected again, but it was the yoga classes that had the town buzzing. Go figure.  My first few yoga classes each had 12 students, which is about all my entire yoga loft can fit comfortably. Everyday I get more calls and people are spreading the word. My classes average from 6-15 students, which is remarkable considering the limited advertising I’ve done and the size of this small town. And they all want to purchase cards for a series of classes.  Denver and I are looking at the schedule now, considering where we should add classes to the schedule. Meanwhile, Denver is preparing to go to Yoga training this October so that four months from now I’ll at least have her as a substitute and second teacher.  I’m thrilled that the yoga is catching on and I love teaching the subject. I enjoy working with adults; enjoy the inherent calm and pure goals of yoga. I enjoy working with the older (65-75 year olds) that have found me, as well as the younger, experienced crowd. I enjoy working with the men, admiring that they are open enough to tromp through the door to find peace and physical awareness in a class that is predominately women (so far), and I even have a yoga class for teens. I adore introducing young minds to the richness of yoga – teaching them to f
eel more centered, balanced and emotionally in control. Heck, I even bought colorful children’s yoga mats and plan to introduce 5 minutes of yoga (like a dance exercise) in the youth classes when and if I ever get the youth program off the ground and solid. If I ever train serious dancers again, I will demand they add yoga to their repertoire of movement studies. It is the perfect antidote to the ravages of dance (both emotionally and physically.) Not all yoga is created equal, and I admit, I didn’t take to it much when I tried it in Florida years ago– but how you feel about a subject is all in the teacher and the introduction. I am determined to be the kind of teacher that makes yoga sing in your soul. I want my students embrace the benefits for a lifetime, and that begins with being a teacher that explains not only how to do yoga, but why. I’m reading a great deal about yoga as therapy etc… so I know my stuff inside and out and learning more everyday. I have plans to continue my training to the higher certification, but that may mean spending a month in India (which will take some time to work out) or two two week sprints in Penn. One way or another, I want that master’s certification. I feel I can help people through this new medium – but I want to be truly great in the field – no faking it.

As it turns out, I am a natural yoga teacher. I’m told I have a smooth, melodic voice (obviously, my yoga voice is not the same as my dance teaching voice where I am forever making sound effects and raising the volume to make a point). I guess without conscious thought, I use my voice as a vehicle to communicate movement dynamics. It comes naturally to me to use inflection and tone to enhance energy and shading when trying to teach accents in dance, just as I shift my tone to help students feel relaxed and open in yoga.  Glad I’m not confusing the two and making students feel they’re in the yoga army. If I confused my dance teacher persona with my yoga persona I could see it now.”Hey You! Keep breathing and wrap your leg around your head NOW! Don’t make me toss you over the balcony for being a slacker!” Eek.

I adore hands on assisting, which is gently laying your hands on a body to enhance the goal of a pose – increasing the warmth in a muscle, helping the student relax into a deeper stretch, etc…. so I’m all over my students, loving the way their breath releases and the muscle gives in because I am present, my hands encouraging calm acceptance of a stretch so they get greater benefits. I was told at yoga training that I have a great touch, but I wasn’t sure if people were just being nice to say so. Since I’ve begun teaching on my own, my student’s reactions to my hands-on make me think perhaps it truly is one of my strengths.Yippee. Considering that any touching done in dance education is clinical and unemotional, I was unaware of the power of compassionate touching as a teacher. You can bet I use it now. (In dance as well.)

I read poetry in my yoga class – the reader/writer in me can’t resist this opportunity to blend thoughtful prose with reflective thought and movement.    All in all, I’m enjoying my journey into teaching yoga –it’s the perfect evolution (and compliment) to dance education. And most importantly, it keeps me sane. When dance parents come on the rampage (and it’s only a matter of time until they will), I’ll now know to breathe, be non-judgmental, and not to take their emotional response personally. And heck – I’ll just invite them into yoga so together we can chill out and put the dance stuff into perspective (At least, that’s the plan.) 

Meanwhile, students have started wandering in to see about the dance classes. Denver is teaching wonderful, upbeat classes, perfect for beginners and every day we get more calls and more people are wandering in to try a class. Last week her 6 year old combo class had four students. This week it had 9. It will take time, but soon the dance division of the school will be up and running, I have no doubt. But we are getting students who are more clueless about movement than any I’ve ever encountered. In a place like Sarasota, the average kid at least has some physical awareness. In the early years, the kids were more like they are here, but it’s fair to say we brought dance to Sarasota, and then it took on a life of it’s own. People had an idea of what dance training looked like if nothing else. Here, kids come in who have danced for years in a small neighborhood school, and they don’t even know how to stand. I have no idea what they’ve been doing in classes all this time, but they don’t know the basics that our 6 year olds know after half a season. I don’t even have to worry about breaking old habits because they are so untrained they have NO habits, good or bad. it is weird. Of course, we don’t say anything. We just sigh and try to make each class fun so they’ll stick around. We understand we will have to dig in to begin at the very beginning. The parents here don’t know the difference between what we teach and what they’ve seen before – but in a year or two the difference in our students will make it evident enough. Now, it is a matter of putting in the work and having patience. Yesterday, I had two students come in a sign up for program – an eleven year old girl with a lovely focus and her 9 year old brother. Both took dance at the Atlanta ballet a few years back, but the mother wouldn’t sign them up for dance in our area because there was no “real dance” in town. I have two or three others that plan to join the program. I look at these lovely students and the edges of my mouth turn up like the Grinch when he has a plan. I can’t help but think, ‘Let me at ’em. these beautiful young people are the future, the first batch of dancers we will make.” And I cant’ wait. There is something so satisfying about leading young people into the dance world in a positive way. And considering this isn’t a crowd that is competition crazed or hung up on the trappings of dance rather than training (at least not yet) we can do the job right, without distraction or ego getting into the way. At long last, our work can returned to be about the art rather than all the commerical stuff.

Mark and I will teach the program students. We even have a few teenagers willing to commit. I set up a professional program in this new school and made it very inexpensive just to get it off the ground. People say, “Why is it cheaper to take all those classes (and I give them unlimited access to any additional classes they want to take too) than it is to register for three regular classes?” I really have a hard time explaining that the program isn’t about making money, but making dancers. The truth is, wanting a program is part ego (wanting to validate my work through beautiful students) but I also need a program because Neva wants to dance, and in my opinion, concentrated study is the only way to do the job. In fact, Mark and I were both shocked to discover how talented Neva is. We didn’t see that when she was younger, but now, her more mature attitude, body and natural gifts is exciting. After a few days of classes he leaned over to me and whispered “have you noticed who has real talent in that room?” 

“You mean our kid? Yeah. I’m in shock.”

“Me too,” he said with a laugh. “Can’t wait to get her in a ballet class. Kinda exciting…”

I’m excited too. I miss working with young, hard working dancers that embrace discipline and true challenges. I’m straining at the bit to get my hands on some kids with potential again, and I’m curious about how the kids raised here will respond to “the real deal”.  So as people question what the program is, I just shrug and say, “Try it, it’s a bargain,” and hope a few brave souls will trust us and let us do what we do best. Make dancers. And no one knows that after this year, it will be hard to get into the program because suddenly level will come into play. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep dance affordable, thinking through costumes, tuitions and the extras and trying to offer the most we can with the elast sacrifice on the parent’s part. One of the things that turned us off most at our old school was the outrageous spending dance parents pushed for – too many competitions, pricy costumes, etc.. and since everyone felt they had to “keep up”, it eventually made dance seem only affordable for the elite. It shouldn’t be that way.  Dance should be a joyful, enriching activity for both the parent and child, and if it’s constantly depleating the family coffiers, everyone is too busy worrying about the expense (and weighing it against the benefits) to enjoy the process. I just think dance can and should be different. It should be less about showing off and more about self discovery and artistic expression. As a yogi, I feel that way even MORE than I did before.  

Mark taught a teen hip-hop class last week and 24 kids showed up! Needless to say, we will have to divide this class. We have at least 8 teen boys that want to start a hip-hop dance crew so Mark agreed to give them a boy’s class, as long as they are open to doing some acro as well. If your gonna be a crew, you need to be strong and know some tricks. They are all up for it. Making a dance crew out of the country boys will take some work, but Mark is up to the challenge. Considering Kent is in the group, Mark can choreograph some great stuff. Four of the boys are drummers – GREAT drummers because they are line captians in the band. Hummm.. Mark is already thinking of a stomp sort of piece, imagining what the boys can play on while dancing – ladders, drums, steal.  Will be interesting.


Meanwhile, we are getting calls everyday about ballroom –that darn show, Dancing with the Stars, has everyone hot for ballroom. I don’t want this new school to go in too many different directions too soon, but we agreed we might offer a 6-week class for adults after Christmas – but we’ll wait to see if the school needs the boost first. Running a successful school is not about offering anything and everything that sells, but offering only what you can deliver with excellence. Ballroom would take some thought, study and preparation for us, soI need to think it through. I do think it would be fun, however, and our adult program is going to be strong. Perhaps it is the yoga influence bringing adults in the door, or the fact that we are older teachers now, but we have tons of people wanting Adult Hip Hop and Ballet Conditioning. Mark is the adult dance teacher, so maybe it’s just his charisma. Who knows? But it is fun to see this division of the school start strong and I appreciate having mature students to connect with. Love kids, but it is nice to share your interest with people you could share a cup of coffee with as well.         

So, I’m now the director of an arts center again. I’m running the school full time as the hands on manager, director and full time teacher.  Mark is involved part time as counsel, part time teacher and taking on some financial management duties (he’s the computer savvy one in this partnership). In some ways we fall into old patterns, but in other ways it is different, and that feels weird. I have no idea where this will all go, he may end up more “in” or completely “out”,but it will be interesting to see. I do know that he will never realize his dreams unless I contribute to this family rather than expect him to support us, so I am happy to see this new venture finally take root for reasons beyond my own aspirations. As for me,  I feel great, as if I’ve rediscovered an authentic part of me that was lost.  I truly love teaching. Love the human body. Love the way people open up and discover their best selves through art.  Love that I am keeping everything I loved about FLEX, but changing the things that I feel didn’t work – adding new elements to shift the dynamics of the school to coincide with my true values. Starting over is hard, but it offers you the opportunity to get things right too, thanks to life experience and greater perspective. Mostly, I love the potential this school has – this is a town that needs a FLEX desperately – I’m excited to create that FLEX energy here.

I’ll admit, I kick myself now for not having the forethought to keep some of our teaching materials and store stock. I just never imagined I’d ever want to own a dance school again. I had two school’s worth of valuable materials, but I gave it all away to a friend thinking it would support his new dance school venture. He ended up giving away half the teaching materials (things I can’t afford to replace now as a new fledgling school, drat it all) and he somehow discarded all the store merchandize and displays as well (probably for a fraction of what it would cost me to replace) because he didn’t want a retail area. Ah well, these things were his to use or discard and it’s fair because everyone has their own vision for a school – the problem is, mine is very defined and I gave away things I struggled for years to acquire, which made them very important and useful in my mind – but when someone is given things for free, they don’t assign the same value to them, so it seems so frustrating that they were not put to serious use. Life is like that – one’s man’s treasure is another man’s trash. Now I have to budget, struggle and carefully build from scratch again to get things that I gave away only two years ago. Ah well – at least I’ll have a deep appreciation for every small addition I can add to the program once again. Anything you have to work for and make sacrifices to get has greater value …      

I’ll write more about the school and how it feels to dive in to dance and yoga once again, (at 50!) later. Now I have to go teach my morning class. Yesterday I had 16 students – could barely walk through the room with the yoga mats taking up so much floor space. I have three classes today – one a private yoga lesson tonight for 6 nurses that want a slow, gentle introduction. I offered to work with them alone because if there is one thing I can do, it’s explain movement in laymen’s terms so people understand what it is all ab
out. Can’t wait.

Anyway – the moral of this story is: Never Say Never!


We have a small temporary website up – just to tide us over until we can make a more interactive, “real” site. Lots of video clips, testimonials etc.. to come. Lots of yoga information, dance information, FLEX history etc….  Check it out someday, www.FlexArtsCenter.com. 

I’m also resurecting the kiddance company on-line with newsletters, youth dance education products and I’ve even found a musician I’m going to work with to produce more music for youth dance exercises that teachers can download with instructions for creative classes. Yeah – if I’m gonna be a dance teacher, might as well jump in full force. So, I am back to work, and happy for it.

Meanwhile, the country homefront is still going strong. I made sauce out of my billions of tomatos this weekend (been too busy to attend to my garden so when I went out there I was shocked – had to whip the windfall into something.) My turkeys are huge. Traded my gorgeous Saddlebred horse for a plainer, well trained calm quarter horse, much more our speed and he arrived yesterday. We are still getting to know each other. My peacock, Elmer, has stuck around as hoped. He is a cutie and when he shed his tail this spring I ended up with over 100 peacock feathers – thus the theme in the yoga room. Ah yes, I’m back in dance, but the nature girl is still there too.    


  

 

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The Farm slowly shifts and changes

Posted on July 1, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock



Llama Rescue came and took my final llama, Pulaini, away last week, and I’m happy to report she now resides on a llama ranch in North Carolina with ten other female llamas. The owner called to tell me she’s already been given a haircut, and she’s happy and making friends. I suppose it’s a relief for her to be able to sleep at night without one eye open, wary of the killer coyotes. She’s been through a lot.


 On the day they were scheduled to pick her up, Denver, Kent and I spent two hours catching her, mostly because I was still wearing the dang cast on my foot. Pulaini would let me approach and pet her backside, but I couldn’t get anywhere near her halter, and when the kids came near she bolted.I’d go gimping across the pasture, running like Forest Gump before his bracesfell off, cussing the cast, the llama, and life in Georgia. Eventually the llama got so hot (it was in the mid 90’s that day) that she began foaming at the mouth. Another ten minutes and I’d be foaming right along with her, but thankfully, she stood still and I just walked up through the knee deep muck she had maneuvered herself into, (as if that would stop me – certainly she should know me better by now) and clipped a rope on her halter. Then we had fun dragging her out to the barn, which was like dragging a car with no wheels over gravel for 600 feet. I had to hose my cast, my pants and all of Kent down afterwards, but the Hendry’s always get the job done.     


 Once safely in the barn, Pulaini returned to her usual friendly self. I gave her treats and put a fan on her to cool her off, and we spent another two hours together saying good-bye. Then Llama rescue showed up,which turned out to be a 60-year-old woman and a friend driving a mini van.


 Kent and I looked at that van and puckered our lips. Did they think they could get our big llama in that thing? We always move the llamas in a horse trailer. The woman assured us they’ve been picking up llamas in mini-vans for ages– the back seats had been removed and a quilt was put down in preparation.


 Having just run ten miles to catch the beast with her spitting and foaming like a mad dog had us more than a little skeptical, but I led Pulaini to the side door of the van as told (they never open the big back doorfor this kind of thing, the woman explained).


 Pulaini stood there eyeing me through her long lashes as if I was kidding.


“There’s air conditioning in there. You’ll like it,” I said as convincingly as I could.


The llama blinked drolly.


 The rescue woman slid into the van and pulled on the leadrope attached to the halter. I picked up Pulaini’s front feet to put them in the door as Kent pushed her rear. I couldn’t help mumbling, “Gee if I knew I could get my llama into a minivan, I would have taken her with me to the drive-in on Saturdays”.


I’m not sure the llama rescue woman knew I was kidding.


 Meanwhile, I couldn’t look at my son for fear we’d start laughing. It was so weird folding up and stuffing a temperamental, 400 pound pet into a car.


 We got the llama half way in, then I picked up her back feet and shoved them inside so we could push her the rest of the way in, sliding her on her knees as the quilt bunched up under her. It felt like when you have to move the dead weight of a dog that doesn’t want to get into the bathtub.  When she was in, I closed the door and went around to the other side to say my good-byes. I wasn’t very sad, because I knew this pet was going somewhere safe and I’m not so selfish I’d want to try to keep her and submit her to a potential tragic end. I like knowing she is going to llama rescue rather than to some stranger who just drops off a check and carts her away, because this way I know she’ll end up in a llama approved home with companionship, shelter and ample food.  


 Later the woman called to tell me the two-hour trip was lovely and Pulaini put her head on her shoulder the entire trip and took treats from her hand. They bonded, the woman said, and she couldn’t help but fall in love with Pulaini’s temperament. In fact, she thought this llama was so sweet, she planned to keep her.  I was jealous at first, thinking what llama are you talking about? You can’t mean MY difficult llama. Or are you implying that she is now acting perfect because she likes you and your air-conditioned van more than me. 


But recognizing envy for what it is, I quickly shifted my attitude and grew delighted because I do want my pet to be happy and I was hoping for this woman would adopt her. She usually only fosters rescue llamas until the organization finds a home for them, but I knew her llama farm sometimes adopts an animal permanently. Pulaini’s no fool. She played right into the woman’s hands and heart and was adopted right there in the back of the van.


 I’m thought she had a good chance of landing someplace great. Most of the llamas they “rescue” are given up because they are old, have bad temperaments or health problems. My llama is healthy, beautiful, has quality fiber, is of a great age, has registration papers, and has been handled a great deal this last year. This is the kind of animal people sell, not the kind you call llama rescue to cart away– but I had an emergency situation considering the marauding coyotes. So, it is a win win situation for everyone – Pulaini, the llama farm and me.


 Now, my llama adventure is over forever more. Sigh.


 Last week, a realtor called to say someone wanted to fly into see our home (which has been for sale for 18 months, so this is a very goodthing) but they are interested in additional land. Actually, they would want to purchase the barn too. Would we be open to that? Since Mark and I had discussed this possibility from the very beginning, we said yes, of course.


 I spent one day in mourning and self-pity for the potentialloss of my animal playground, but then I bounced back. Denver and I cleaned the barn from top to bottom (meaning she did the upstairs where her jewelry making equipment and storage is, and I tackled the downstairs tack and feed room and cleaned the stalls.) Then I painted my chicken house, formerly weathered pressure treated wood, a cheery barn red and hung up flowering baskets and cute chicken signs. I had already removed the rabbit cages hanging on the sides and purchased paint with plans to gussy up the house for myself, so this was really just following through on previous plans. I planted some bushes around the shed too, set up a metal sun sculpture and put red mulch around the quaint building. It looks like an adorable egg–manufacturing playhouse now.  Love it.


 

It’s probably a long shot that someone will actually want the house and this much land as well (the pastures, barn and chicken houses) because that gets rather pricy. These people may not even show up, but I’m willing and open to whatever happens. In fact, it almost feels like fate, because I’m opening a new business in two months so my time for barn play will be limited soon. The fact is, I’ve learned all I needed and wanted to learn through these few years of farming adventures. It’s been wonderful, but I’m ready to explore new horizons now, so maybe this is meant to be. Of course, I’d still want to set something up near the new house to keep my chickens, for the high quality eggs, ya know (I’m a spoiled cook now), and I’d want to keep my peacocks since they are no trouble. And I don’t know what I’d do with donkey, because he is a member of the family and the star of my pending book, but beyond that, I wouldn’t mind spending a Georgia winter without having to devote hours a day in the bitter cold taking care of animals.


 For now, I’m enjoying every minute I spend at the barn because it is so neat and pretty down there, and I consider my time in nautre a precious gift. You must appreciate what you have when you have it, and not live for tomorrow or yesterday, or fail to appreciate the lovely moments life offers us,however subtle of fleeting they may be.


 I’m down to three turkeys now. As you may recall, I started with five chicks. One died early on for reasons unknown (I was at a yoga seminar – these things always happen when I’m away). Another one did not develop properly. He had splayed legs – which means his legs flail out under him so he can barely walk. As a young bird he sort of flapped his wings and nudged himself around the cage. I took pity on him, and kept feeding him in a bowl right beside where he lay in a pile of hay. But because of my diligent care, he just ate all day and kept getting bigger and bigger, until all he could do was lay in one spot and couldn’t move at all because of his increased size. The full grown turkeys needed more space, so I began keeping the cage door open and the other three birds spent their afternoons picking through the pasture for fresh bugs. They’re happy roosting nearby and laying in the grass beside the cage. They are huge and still growing.



 YYesterday, when our farmer friend Ronnie was over I had a moment of weakness and asked if he could make my handicapped turkey disappear.I didn’t want to discuss what would happen to the bird, because the poor thing seems so innocent, but I also couldn’t bear to continue feeding him, knowing he couldn’t move and was sitting in his own waste. His quality of life has been hindered, and I don’t want to have to explain this to anyone who might be coming to see the barn to potentially buy it.


 Ronnie smiled and said no problem. I felt guilty, but only for a moment. This bird’s had months of a cheesy life when anyone else would have done him in long ago. It is only a matter of time until a dog discovers the bird and brings him to a violent end if I leave him just hanging out, incapable of moving.  And the fact is, I’m not interested in killing him to eat (no comments from the peanut gallery,please). Sure enough, yesterday afternoon I went down to the barn tentatively and looked in the turkey cage. There were only three turkeys walking around the barnyard. Such is the harsh life of a farm animal.


 I confess, I named my turkeys Barb, Mike and Jodi after those who caused the demise of FLEX, thinking this would make it easier for me to slaughter and eat them later. But the truth is, their names only makes me smile and laughter only endears the birds to me more. The simple beasts follow me as harmless as any creature I’ve ever known. They don’t react to danger or shy away from problems the way an alert chicken does. They say turkeys are stupid, but I like to think of them as enthusiastic, just naive and unaware of what is going on around them. In truth, they are good-natured, which actually makes the names of at least two of them very appropriate. As you can guess, I can’t imagine hurting them now, so I’ll have turkey pets for years to come. I’ll just let nature take its course and see how long they survive living a normal, carefree life. Of course, that is not to say that come Thanksgiving I won’t have a change of heart, especially considering the pressure I get from family members still expecting organic, homegrown turkey for the holidays, but personally, I can’t imagine carving up one of my little buddies at this time. Turkey raising is an experiment still pending.          


 I’ve got 20 freshly hatched chicks peeping away in little cages now, and my garden is lush and filled with a zillion soon to be ripe tomatoes, peppers, melons, pumpkins, squash, eggplant, and some mystery plant(I can’t remember what seeds I scattered there. Oops.) I’ve planted three sets of cucumbers but they keep dying. No pickles for me, this year I guess.


 Last week Mark pointed out that the blackberries are almost ready to pick, and suddenly it occurred to me that my ’08 wine has been sitting in a carboy for a year now and is ready to be bottled. So I spent the daybottling and labeling 90 more bottles of wine. Blackberry/Strawberry, Blueberry (a new flavor I tried last season, which turned out refreshing, light, and lovely)and a strawberry/grape Chablis.  I need to invite some friends over for some serious country wine drinking. I’d make a few more batches, but with people coming to see the house, that will have to wait. Don’t need the place smelling like a winery – which it always does for the first two weeks. (The new house will have a wine making room in the basement for me, I’m told. Guess Mark is tired of seeing these huge bottles of fermenting wine everywhere.)  


 So, I’m all caught up on the farm chores – except for the bees,which I’ll be tackling today. I have to take the honey off the hive and cut away all the little evergreens that are growing up at the entrance of the hive (no one will mow over there, so my hive looks like sleeping beauties castlebeing swallowed by weeds.) If I get as much as I expect, I’m thinking of trying to make mead this season. Fun!


 Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, I wonder if this will be my last season of this lifestyle. It is always possible someone will come along and want to write a check to buy this life we have worked so long and hard to create (won’t be the first time), which will bring this chapter of our lives to an end, opening the door for something else. Life is unpredictable that way – flexible, every-changing and bittersweet. No reason to fight it – better to go with the flow and collect the meaningful lessons along the way. 


 Speaking of which, I passed my yoga certification exam for the Yoga Alliance last week. I still have one more intensive weekend of training and the graduation to attend, but I’m a true yogi now. Ommmmmmmmmm…………………………….   


I also attended a three-hour yoga for children workshop. Man, do I wish I had all that information when I owned FLEX. My mind was spinning with the potential for incorporating that material in the dance environment. I’m not finished with my yoga training – now I’m researching the next level of training – the 500 hour advanced course that makes you a master teacher. Heck, maybe I’ll maneuver a way to take that one in India someday. Ya only live once. 


 I’ve been doing massive research in preparation for reentry into the dance/yoga world. Stepping back has allowed me to see this business with fresh eyes, and the new resources, music and ideas available have me really excited – I feel like ten times the teacher I was before, thanks to the life experience and new skills I can draw from now. Distance is a blessing. But I’ll address that in another entry. Just know that scoop dancer is on the case and my next school will be better than the last – more authentic – and this one won’t get off lured course or dragged under water by unnecessary drama or ego mongers. The greatest gift of yoga is learning detachment and training yourself to see through the crap to what is beautiful underneath.  Nurturing it, making it glow. I’m ready to apply that to dance training.


 I even took a QuickBooks class last month so I can be incontrol of the budgeting and business side of this new school, so Mark will not have additional demands on his time. He can teach ballet, but beyond that, I don’t want him encumbered by the demands of a dance studio. He has different dreams all together. I am excited about the artistic challenges of a new school, but I’m experienced enough to know how import it is for the director to be qualified as a business manager too, so I’m working to fill in the gaps now that one person will be at the helm. Crunching numbers isn’t my forte, and I’m helpless on the computer, but I’ve tackled QuickBooks knowing it is the responsible, necessary thing to do, and I even enrolled in a class on website design in August too (because I’m resurrecting the Kiddance company newsletter and product line too). Ah, the things we do for love, as Chorus line pointed out.


 Anyway, it is time for this newbie yogi to visit the bees.  Somehow, I no longer fear being stung. Now, if only the bees were in the same yoga frame of mind…..


 

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It’s been THAT kind of summer

Posted on June 16, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock

It’s been one of THOSE summers.  Eesh.

 It began almost 6 weeks ago when I sprained my ankle. I’d
like to say I was leaping from my horse in a death defying move, or maybe my
big toe got caught on my ear as I was wrapping my leg around my head in an
exotic yoga feat, but alas, I’m not that interesting.   Actually, I was washing my car and I had put too many
quarters in the vacuum, so instead of counting my losses, I decided to crawl
into the back corners of the van to suck up any invisible specks of dirt that
may be hidden there (to get my money’s worth from the carwash, you see,) and
that had me in this awkward, blind position as I crawled backwards out of the
car. I stepped on the vacuum hose and my foot rolled over and hit the sidewalk
hard.  I just sat on the ground and
cried. Partially because it really hurt, but mostly because I knew it was a bad
sprain and I was feeling sorry for myself. Getting injured at the half waypoint
of intense yoga training is seriously bad timing. I couldn’t reach Mark, so I crawled
into the car and drove to the coffee shop with my left foot, where I iced the
ankle and had a pity-party – with coffee. 
The foot swelled up to double it’s size and turned black and blue.
Great.  

 Did I go to the doctor? Of course not. I NEVER go to the
doctor. I just figured I’d ice it and wrap it and keep it elevated and in a day
or two, presto, I’d be fine. But, of course I wasn’t fine. I hobbled around on
crutches for a week (which is really difficult when you are at a barn feeding
animals, because the crutches sink into the mud and you can’t balance on gravel
and …. Well, let me just say it’s a good thing chickens don’t learn to talk
like parrots or there would be a litany of cussing going on down there forevermore.  

 That weekend, I went to my next 20-hour yoga intensive on
crutches, and had to observe. What a drag. Two weeks later, I had my next yoga
intensive weekend, and I hobbled in again. Luckily that was a special event
weekend where we studied meditation and ended up meditating for 20 hours – it
is called rounding. It was a very intense, remarkable weekend that I won’t go
into now, but luckily my bad ankle didn’t hold me back.

 This weekend I had another intensive scheduled, and we were
going to work on handstands and headstands and other inverted positions. I
couldn’t bare missing out again, and dang if my ankle wasn’t still swollen up,
5 weeks after the fall, so I dragged myself to a sports doctor who took e-rays,
then yelled at me because I’ve probably been walking around on a broken ankle
for 5 weeks. She put me in a cast. Now, I’m hobbling around without pain at
long last in this jazzy black metal and Velcro boot thing. Yeah, I’m stylin’.
The problem is, the injury caused my entire body to get out of whack, and I’ve been
experienced horrible pain in my knees too. I asked the doctor to check
everything, because if my body is deteriorating I figured I should know before
I sign a lease on a new studio.

 The doctor and I viewed the ex-rays and she showed me I was
in marvelous shape for my age, I just had to be patient and let my injury heal
– and don’t be such a dope about it next time.  I got a cortisone shot in my knee, which made the pain disappear,
and now, finally, I’m on the mend. It was a revelation to learn I’m in good
shape. I guess I had convinced myself that I was falling apart because Mark has
such serious physical problems from his years of dance, and he is almost 7
years younger than I am, and has danced for far less years. Logic has it that since
I’m older, and danced all those hard years in New York, I MUST be falling apart
too. Ah, but all bodies are not created equal. Speaking with the doctor changed my outlook, and
suddenly, I’m primed and ready to re-enter the dance world. (but that is
another subject and since this blog is about my lousy summer, I’ll set that aside for now.)

 I wore my boot to the yoga training this weekend, and
actually did all the physical asana in it, (held yoga positions) though my
transitions were not exactly graceful. Can’t have something like a broken ankle
stop progress, ya know. I did a few inversions and worked on spotting other
students, but they wouldn’t let me handstand against the wall, for fear I’d
smash through like the bionic woman. 
That’s fair.  I must say,
this portion of yoga training came easy, because when you’ve taught acrobatics,
you understand spotting and how body awareness goes askew when you are upside
down. I had a head start, so to speak. 

 Moving on – to the bad summer proof. . .

 My baby llama was killed. I don’t want to go into details,
because I was devastated and rather not think about it too much, but in a
nutshell, the coyotes attacked in the night. We found him at noon the next day
laying in the creek as his dad, Dali, was, only in the baby’s case, he wasn’t
dead, just horribly maimed. He was bleeding, couldn’t stand, and had half his
ribs eaten away. I knew he couldn’t be saved, and therefore he had to be put
him down as quickly as possible. Of course, I don’t have a gun and wouldn’t
know how to shoot one if I did, nor do I think I’d have the emotional
strength.  Well, maybe I could.
Amazing what you are capable of when you love something. The vet would take a
long time to arrive, and would charge me a fortune, but I didn’t know who else
to ask for help, so, sobbing, I ran to the house (on my broken ankle –  this was before going to the doctor
when my actions were continually making the injury worse) to call Mark for
advice. He said he’d take care of it and called a friend to come shoot the
beast – a humanitarian choice, but still, the mere idea had me in hysterics.
Meanwhile, it took the friend over an hour to arrive, and I had to listen to my
most beloved pet suffering, crying out to his mother and looking to me to help
him. I was a basket case.

 After an hour of this horrible torture (for both the llama
and me), the poor animal was so exhausted and week, he simply laid his head
down into the creek and started to drown. Every instinct had me wanting to rush
to him to hold his head up – but for what? So he could suffer a bit longer
until someone came to shoot him? The kindest thing was to let him go. So, I
watched my most loved animal thrashing in the water, blood pooling around him, as
his life slowly ebbed away. Needless to say, I collapsed to the ground in
uncontrollable grief, which is when Mark and his friend arrived.  

 I was crouched over, inconsolable.

 For days after that, I couldn’t get Pauli’s image out of my
mind. Knowing he suffered so long and had such a violent end just did me in.
But in retrospect, I suppose watching him drown was better than watching him be
shot. I went to the house as Mark brought the tractor around and buried him
near the blueberry bush. He later told me Pauli looked very serine and at peace
– convincing him that drowning had been the more graceful way for the young
llama to go. Mark also told me that he heard animals always go to the water
when they know they are going to die. Apparently, deer do that when they’re
shot – go to water and drown themselves on purpose when they’re suffering. This
information was passed on in a kind attempt to make me feel better, I think.
But honestly, it didn’t help.

 Meanwhile, I knew I had to get my remaining llama, Pulaini,
out of here. I’ve worried about the coyotes in spring, and so I’ve had the llamas up for sale
for a month already with no takers, so now I decided to just give her away to
any good home (which as far as I’m concerned just means a home without killer
coyotes) I called several llama farms, but they didn’t want another animal.

 At the vet’s advice, I ended up calling llama rescue and
just yesterday signed surrender papers. Most of the llamas picked up by llama
rescue are problem animals. They are old, or have not been cared for properly,
or they have behavior problems so no one wants them. But my llama is in the
best of health, fully registered, has great fiber, and she’s gentle, halter
trained etc… They promised me she would go fast to a good home, and they do
check ups on the animals adopted out so she would be sure to go someplace with
ample pasture, shelter, and the companionship of at least one more llama. In
the end, she will be well cared for and happy – so I’m happy. The regional head
of the llama rescue organization commended me on caring more about her health
and wellness than risking her well being while I tried to sell her (because she
is still a valuable animal). I figure I’d need to spend more on counseling if I
had to go through one more llama death than I’d ever get by selling the animal,
so I’m happy to let her go. The only problem is, they haven’t picked her up yet
and every night I hear the coyotes out there. I pace around the house wishing I
could just go out there and blow their brains out. Clearly, my yoga training
has a way to go since ahimisa (doing no harm) is a key philosophical unit in
the Yoga Sutra’s of Patanjauli. But hey, I doubt the monk that wrote these
guidelines had killer coyotes messing with his loved ones.

 Anyway, I am now a llama-less farm girl. I was headed in the
llama-free direction anyway, but it came about in a more violent way then I’d
hoped for. Now, along with my warm and fuzzy memories of watching a llama come
into this world, I have stored memories of watching him go out in a sad,
painful way as well. Life can be bittersweet. Without llamas, I have no need of
angoras (since I need to blend their fiber with other fiber to use it) so I’ve
decided to look for a good home for my rabbits too. Downsizing.

 It seems Dance is reentering my world (thanks to the Yoga
trapdoor). Animals are slowly exiting. It feels like my life has gone through
an eclipse, but now the moon shadowing the sun is passing. An eclipse is a
marvelous and rare thing to witness – but it is not a state you want to be in
forever. 

Anyway . . .   

 These aren’t the only highlights of my month of misery, but
since I promised to keep these blogs shorter I’ll only mention a few more
things.

 Kent totaled his car. He’s fine, but the car is a goner. We
decided to cut our losses and not tell insurance due to his age and what it
would do to his (our) rates. Poor kid is without a car all summer – and around
here that really nails your feet to the floor, but I am sort of glad. I have
been concerned with his driving for a while now, and I can’t help but feel this
accident will save his life in the bigger scheme. I count my blessings for
that.       

 He also wrecked my car on mother’s day. He and Mark were
running to Home depot to pick up some supplies for our family gardening project
(my gift) and Mark asked Kent to drive. No sooner had they gotten into the car
than Mark backed into our stone wall. Perhaps I should mention that 3 months
ago he backed his car into Mark’s car and wrecked two in one shot. What can I
say? The boy has talent. Why Mark had him drive when he knows Kent treats
automobiles like bumper cars is a mystery. Ah well.

 A rock hit my windshield and cracked it. Can’t blame Kent
for that – just the auto-gods. When the company came to fix it, the crack
spread. Now I need a new windshield too. 
Hey, bring it on, God’s of automobiles, I say. After the llama accident,
these car issues are naught but a nuisance.

 This morning, I was washing a set of sheets and when I came
into the laundry room during the first spin cycle there was a two-inch layer
of water everywhere. The machine, only two years old, is leaking. Great. Kent’s room below is under water. Don’t want to think of the damage that will cause to the ceiling. 

 Someone came to see our home last week and since we’ve
lowered the price drastically we really thought it would move. They didn’t make
an offer. Dammit.

 I could go on and on . . . There are plenty more aggravating,
life glitch moments to share, but I think the few I’ve detailed here makes my
point. No reason to dump negative facts on innocent friends who show up here expecting
positive news or a fun read.

 I just wanted to make a point –  it’s been THAT kind of summer.  I’m ready for some good news, happiness,
and/or pleasure. Frankly, I’m way, way, way, way over-due. 

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Spring on the Farm

Posted on May 28, 2009 by Ginny East Shaddock

 I’m
told I’m a terrible blogger, because I’m supposed to write more regularly, and
keep it short and to the point. But I write when I feel inspired, and then I write
essays with too much introspection. So shoot me. I’ll try to adhere to proper
blogging standards from now on for all those friends with the short attention
span, but for all that I understand the appeal of brief blogs, I can’t help but
think if all you’re doing is sending out short reports of what goes on in your
days, what is the point? Does anyone really care what I had for lunch today?

 Anyway – It’s spring, and I am long overdue on a farm update. Here goes.

 As the winter began to fade, I was bummed that my female
peacock no longer had a mate. Peacocks are not like chickens that lay eggs all
year round. Peafowl (the official term for a peacock) only lay in season, and I
knew spring was coming and I’d have some unfertilized peacock eggs soon – and
we already know my family freaks out when I feed them a peacock omelet.

 So when a friend ran across a gorgeous male peacock for sale
at a flea market and sensed he could talk the seller down to a slick 80 bucks (I guess
the global economy crash has affected the peacock market as well) he called
Mark and asked if he should pick it up for me. Mark made arrangements, and I
came home from a yoga seminar to an unexpected bonus birthday gift. I was
delighted.

 I named the new bird Elmer, (because I want this one to
stick around). Elmer adjusted to his new digs quickly enough and began
spreading his tail and flirting with Prism (my female) and I was privy to more
than a few peep shows of peacock passion. 
Spring came and Prism began laying eggs, (which I can attest are
fertilized) and she’s been sitting now for two weeks.

 Yesterday, I pushed her aside (which made her really cranky)
to check out the nest. There are 5 peacock eggs under her, and two chicken eggs
from my dopey Rhode Island Red that is always laying her eggs in the wrong
place.  I removed the measly
chicken eggs because chickens hatch in 21 days and peacocks in 31, and Prism
won’t know the difference – once chicks hatch a mother will only wait two more
days before abandoning the nest to raise her young. Can’t have her bailing on
the baby peacocks just to raise more trouble-making Rhode Island Reds.

 I was standing there with these two half developed eggs in
my hand in a moral dilemma. I could throw them into the woods for some creature
to eat, but they were probably only a few days from hatching and that felt a
little like murder.  So, I shoved
them under one of my nesting chickens, but as I drew my hand away, I heard a
slight peeping. I looked closer at her eggs. One was cracked and a new chick
was making its premiere. Cool. This morning I checked again and there are three
healthy chicks in the nest, and a few more eggs still under her that may or may
not hatch. This will make the third chicken I have raising a few
spring chicks – not that I need more chickens, but I can’t resist the pleasure
of watching motherhood in process. I have them in cages all over the place. Crazy, but fun. 

 My turkeys are huge, stupid and totally attached to me. They
throw themselves against the side of the cage when I walk by, trying to follow
me. The plan to eat them is curling up at the edges, as you probably knew it
would. Meanwhile, they are stinky and rather a nuisance to raise. I don’t know
what the heck I’m going to do with them. I thought of putting them in my huge
chicken run, but they are simply too messy– perhaps I’ll just open the cage
door and see how they fare roaming wild around the barn. But first I’ll wait
until they are fully-grown. I want to hear them gobble and see them all puffed
up like the preening turkeys you see on thanksgiving décor before anything
happens to them. Seeing them change and grow and interact is half the fun.     

 I am forever starting animal projects out of curiosity, then
cursing myself because I want to scale back rather than get more involved. Ah
well – might as well enjoy this stage of life while I can. I’m quite sure I won’t be
playing around a barn forever.

 My Angora rabbit had a litter and I took all eight beautiful
babies to the feed store to swap for a store credit. They sell the rabbits for
50.00 each, but I am given 10.00– which is perfectly fine with me. I really
just want to find the rabbits a good home. I even wrote a two page “how to care
and feed your angora rabbit” document to go home with each pet. Linda, the store owner, laughed at me for being so worried about their fate.  Originally, I
planned the litter because I wanted a second female angora, but on second
thought, I decided to adhere to my “scale back” plan. So I also gave the store
one of my adult male angoras to sell. I go into the store everyday to visit him (and whisper apologies into his cage for sending him away). 
Then I pick out plants for my new garden to use my credit – plants are a
temporary responsibility and I’m leaning in that direction now. Got some big rhubarb plants last
week and stuck them in the ground in my new raised beds. Maybe by next year I’ll
be trying out some of those rhubarb recipes I keep cutting out of Gourmet
magazine. I’m ready for some new cooking exploits, and the best part is, if the Rhubarb isn’t happy, I won’t feel any guilt about it.

 This is getting too long, and I imagine my readers are starting to crinkle their brow as they think “get on with it” – so I’ll wrap it up.

My llamas are for sale, but I haven’t gotten any calls. I’m
committed to having fewer creatures to care for by winter, but scaling back is heart wrenching. I really love my young llama, so I’m on the fence with this
whole “lose the llamas” thing. I’ll let fate decide.

I’m selling one of my two horses – the high-spirited, high maintenance
one. I’ll keep the quarter horse as long as I live in Georgia. That animal owns
my heart. One horse is a joy. Two is simply too much work.

Donkey is fine, and remains my favorite. He’ll be the last
animal standing in Ginny’s world.

 Speaking of donkey, I should write about my book (entitled,
My Million Dollar Donkey). It rests with four agents now, and another spoke
with me at a seminar last week and asked me to rewrite the opening (she was
giving me a critique) and said she would like to see the entire book after I
make some suggested changes. So, as always, it is still a waiting game. I could
talk more about my writing, it’s going well – but that would break my new blog
rule, so you’ll have to wait.  

Had lunch with Kathy last week. Great to see her, but she won’t  be returning to her reading studies anytime soon. That is one project that ran it’s course. Sniff.

Times
up.

 

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