'OHANA AND HULA

At class tonight, I danced solo.





Not only that, but I had to improvise, AND "work the stage."









Imagine doing this to a Tahitian beat, when you've only participated 4 times, and at the back of the class, which consists mostly of 20-somethings, who have been dancing since they were small children, and who move really well, are more flexible and sway a whole lot better.

I on the other hand barely hang in, can't hear the count,
lose the "bump" over and over again, and have shadowed thoughts of joint damage.

Hip circles at high speed are hard.

Hip circles at high speed while traveling by yourself around the room with an audience that is LOOKing at you, is really hard.


The hula solo went a whole lot better, although I did get a little nervous, distracted by the eyes of the audience, and lost the movement by "thinking too hard."

Since I tend to panic in public, hyperventilate or get flushed at just the thought of speaking up in front of a group, this could have been a really stressful evening.

Instead I didn't panic, and only felt mildly foolish.

Mostly, I was surprised at just how comfortable I felt, and how, in this environment, there was no judgement of quality or performance.

Just a wide eyed expectation that you loved the dance as much as they.


In this cement floored garage, tinged with the stink of cigarette smoke, flanked by a vehicle in repair and shelves of miscellaneous storage boxes, Auntie R and Auntie T passing the culture to the next generation, appreciation of dance and movement, a family collective to make it better for all, no competition or rating scale, 'ohana and hula in a high-desert, land-locked state, truly blessed to be there, I found that I did.


My only real concern? I may get sick more often this cold season--I must get, and give, 10 hula-sister and hula-bro hugs every night I go to dance.

Notes:

Photo #1: Tahitian dancers

Photo #2: Keiki (child) hula

Photo #3: Kahiko (ancient) hula

Photo #4: Auana (modern hula) grace at sunset