Diana's Letter

Hey-o!

As you know from the blog, I teach at Studio One Dance Academy, and our end of the year dance shows (3 of 'em) are coming up this Saturday.  They're all sold out (so cool!) and I'll be spending the next few days glued to the dance floor.  But in the midst of all this chaos, costumes and stage moms, there is a lot of love and appreciation going around.

So, I've decided to share with you the letter I wrote and gave to my studio owner, Diana.  I used to think that sharing personal letters on public sites devalued their intention, but after reading letters shared between my friend Kurt and his wife after he passed away on their blog, my mind was changed.  I now see it as a very personal view into a relationship, a way to get to know someone better, and a little window into someone's head & heart.  Also, hopefully an inspiration and way to encourage you to share your words and feelings with others. This letter shows insights not only into my relationship with Diana, but also my relationship with dance and my continued heart-pull back to the continent of Africa....

So, without further adieu, here you go:

June 18, 2014

Dearest Diana,

Last Wednesday was a bad day. The week had started out hectic with various problems through various jobs, but on Wednesday right before I was scheduled to head into the studio, I received an email. That email was from Nicole, the sister who ran the orphanage for street boys in Ngara, Tanzania, where I had taught dance (mainly hip hop and break dancing) every Saturday during my 6 months stay in Africa. We are still in contact, with her sending me random updates every now and then on how the boys are doing, often accompanied by pictures that show their progress. On Tuesday, Nicole had sent me an email showing a couple boys overcoming their latest challenge: The Marathon for Peace in Kigali, Rwanda, which happened May 18^th. Several of them ran and completed their first marathon successfully, and I responded to her email with congratulations and to remind her of how appreciative and inspired I am by her work. She responded on Wednesday with this:

“Thank you Nichole, it's nice to read you. At this moment are boys here have holidays for one month... Normally they go to their family but last week they all have been circumcized so they have to heal before going home. Some have signs of infection. It is the government that wants that all boys and men of 10 and older have to be circumcized... And  a team came to Nyamiaga dispensary, and in one week around 7000 persons have been circumcized... I feel glad to be a woman... enjoy your summer, and continue dancing... We also do, on Saturday.. love. Nicole”

And almost instantly, I became furious. Livid. The Tanzanian government had once again made another decision with good intentions, backed by extreme lack of education. After doing some research myself, I had come to discover that these mass circumcisions, when performed in Africa, are almost always done one after the next, with no sterilization between cuttings and therefore the spread of HIV is extremely prevalent. There are a lot of “poor kids in Africa” stories we hear every day, but this one is REAL. Because I know each of these kids' stories and I care for them. A lot. They've overcome obstacles in their lives that we can't even fathom in ours, and to have the government traumatize their lives when they've finally found a sense of home and security. Well, that enrages me like nothing else.

But at the same time, as I re-read Nicole's email over and over, I couldn't help but focus on the last part: “enjoy your summer and continue dancing....we also do, on Saturday”. And as I grabbed my gear and headed out the door for the studio, I knew I was headed in the right direction.

DANCE is an amazing healer. Of all things. Every time I step into the studio I bring things with me. Not always these things, but sometimes I bring anger, stress, disappointment, or fatigue. They may not show on the surface but some days, they're inside. And every time I leave the studio, those things stay behind. I leave them on the dance floor. The love I feel from my students and the energy the expression of movement gives to me reinvigorates me, refocuses me, and helps me stay balanced and grounded.

And I couldn't help but think of the boys at Nazereti on Wednesday during my classes. How fortunate I felt that I was able to share that tool with them...the tool of dance...expression...release....and how happy it makes me to know that they still have it now and are practicing using it every week, over a year after I've left. That just MAYBE its helping them get through their hard days and times, too.

I LOVE my job. I feel so fortunate that I get to do what I love every day. And, I love Studio One. I've taught at a lot of studios, and Studio One is truly something special. Because of you, Diana. You have this energy about you. You emit strength simultaneously with compassion. You inspire others through positive reinforcement and honest, sincere discussions. You have a way with people and know how to touch your student's hearts to make dance and the beat BREATHE through them. You really are the “lighthouse” you speak of, sending little rays of light and positivity out in every direction and touching everyone with kindness in your reach.

I feel like I have grown so much as a teacher and a person in your presence. I look forward to continuing my learning and growing through observing your words and ways. Thank you for inviting me in to be a part of your family, and for giving me an outlet to share my passion with others. I am very proud to call Studio One my home.

Love,

Nikki

Zoe & Abagail, from my Combo 1 class, ready for their tap piece "Tutti Fruiti" on picture day.  Have you ever seen anything so cute before in your life?!

A few of my Hip Hop 2 students yesterday in the studio.  They LOVE selfies :)

Wa Gwaan Man?!?! Jamaica, That's What...

Ok, it's been FOREVER since I've blogged, I know.  I've even tried to start several posts and failed to finish them.  I have good reason.  Like the rest of us, I've been busy.  This post is supposed to be about my most recent trip to Jamaica, so I'm going to keep the personal stuff short, but here's my work life in a nutshell:  I'm currently running a business out of my home here in Portland as of the New Year (and just recently found out that I'll be doing so for the indefinite future).  It's my friend Bryan's business, Chopstick Art.  He's been doing this for 10 years and he needed a break, so I've taken over while he travels the world and pursues his dreams, and I couldn't have a more ideal, flexible job.  And, to date, our company has saved over 3 million chopsticks from going to the landfill.  Pretty cool.  I'm very proud to be managing this company. You can check it out here: www.chopstickart.com.  If you order something online from me and I recognize your name, I promise to put some lipstick on real quick and seal it with a smoochie boochie...you know, just so you know its really me :) I'm also teaching 10 dance classes a week and preparing for our recital which is coming right up, June 21st.  And...doing some side French tutoring here and there to high school students.  So...busy!  But a very full, rewarding and HAPPY life :)

OK.....now.....JAMAICA MAN!

Basically the story goes that I had no intention of international travel until my trip to China next year, but I'm not the one to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity when it comes around.  So...one fine Saturday morning in January, I went out for coffee and a bit of shopping with my roommate/landlord Emily.  When we arrived home, our Jamaican neighbors next door were milling about in their yard.  Emily has known them for about 7 years or so, so they're good friends. They always seemed super nice, but their Patois (basically Jamaican pigeon, for those of you who are familiar with the Hawaiian culture) was SO thick and hard for me to understand that it was hard to have meaningful conversations with them, so I didn't know them very well.  They started chatting with us, and mentioned that in a few days they were heading back home to Jamaica for a few months.  Emily had ALWAYS wanted to go visit them, and they casually mentioned that we were more than welcome to come stay with them.  And then, they casually mentioned that their airfare tickets were only $500.  Round trip.  Emily's excitement grew and she said "What?!  If that's true, I'm going.  I'm going upstairs right now and checking online for tickets," and then she turned to me and said "wanna go?" I'm pretty sure that there was zero hesitation in my voice as I responded with a firm "yes".

Jamaica has always been on my list.  Ever since my first trip to Reggae on the River in 2003, I've been hooked on the music and the culture.  However, I don't like traveling to big fancy resorts where you only hang out with other Americans.  If I wanted to do that, I'd just go stay at the Mirage in Vegas for a few nights.  They have swimming pools, cocktails and sunshine there.  So having this opportunity where I could go stay with locals and REALLY experience the country on the ground level seemed like an opportunity I'd be stupid to pass up.  Long story short, we found tickets online that same day for $480 round trip...the last two available.  And, we were booked.

Jamaica blew my mind, and was everything I could have hoped it to be.  In many ways, it reminded me so much of Africa.  It had all of the things I really loved about Africa and none of the things that made that continent so very trying for me.  As many of you know, I really struggled during my time in Tanzania, for many reasons.  I don't regret my time there in any way, but I had to dig deep to find happiness and stay balanced.  It was so very refreshing to have an international travel experience that was uplifting and fulfilling in almost every way possible.

We stayed with our Portland neighbors, Gredel and John, at their home in Dumfries, which is 45 minutes away from Montego Bay, up in the hills.  Even though we were remote and in a "developing" part of the country, unlike Tanzania, we had consistent hot water and electricity.  Food, however, was equally scarce as it was in Africa.  Once we finally got our hands on some Jamaican dollars (100 Jamaican dollars is $1 USD, which is hard to get used to. Kept freaking me out when they'd ask me for $500 dollars for my lunch.  Yikes!), we made sure to stock pile food so that we had something to snack on in our bedrooms.  Yes, there was food, but locals basically eat just one big meal a day.  Yes, one.  And sometimes, it was goat stew.  So, when it happened to be something like Jerk Chicken (a main staple in Jamaica and very delicious), Emily and I ate as much as we could but we could only eat SO much in one sitting.  Our hosts kept complaining that we really weren't eating, but they didn't account for the fries we'd get at the shack across the street or the crackers we had stowed away in our backpacks.

Like Tanzania, the fresh fruits and veggies in the market were plentiful, but no locals on the outskirts of town seemed to grow them.  In a place where sun is plentiful, water is consistent, and imported food is expensive and lacking nutritional value, it is very saddening to see that people do not have gardening skills.  Oh the good it could do.  And like Tanzania, we often heard "he soon come", which meant that yeah, Richie was on his way.  He just ran home to take a shower.  4 hours later, he'd stroll up the walkway.  So, as Richie once said to us during our stay, "don't be too eager for any ting".  And, it became our steadfast motto.  We had no access to internet or phones, but that was actually extremely pleasurable for me.  I realized how much I really do love being disconnected sometimes, and how grounding it is for my personality.

The other big thing Jamaica had that Tanzania did not was MUSIC.  I was shocked in Tanzania at the complete absence of music in the village where I was staying.  In Jamaica, reggae music was BLASTING...out of cars, on the streets, and from the boom box in our home.  24/7.  At parties, speakers upon speakers piled high above our heads and jams blasted well into the early hours of the morning.  Music and dance are both staples of culture in Jamaica, and I soon was learning some of the latest dance moves...like the "One Drop", or the "Whine".  Of course, I was in love with this, and jumped at every opportunity to learn new dances and also teach some of my own moves.  People were constantly in shock to see a "white girl" who knew how to dance.  Emily's a great dancer too, and since dance was such a staple part of their culture, we got a lot of love for it.  Dancing in Jamaica, however, is very explicit.  Here is one of the most popular songs in Jamaica right now, with the dance move the "One Drop". Basically, you bend over and shake your booty til there's no tomorrow:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-Tt8vzkzF0

 I...could go on and on about this country, but you'd probably stop reading my post, if you haven't already.  The water was so clear you could see through it for many feet down, the beaches were pristine and stretched for miles, the waterfalls were roaring and the foliage was lush.  The people of Jamaica, overall, were hospitable, friendly, and welcoming.  And, lets be honest, the men were pretty damn fine too.  I made some great connections and friends.  All that being said, Jamaica is a bit dicey.  We had Gredel & John's nephew, Richie, as our body guard basically at all times during our stay there, and he was a damn good one.  He watched our stuff while we swam in the ocean, and told the cab driver off when he was being too pushy.  And during our time there, I received repeated affirmation that I was so happy not to be staying in a fancy, smanshy resort.  For example, one of our last days in the city, Montego Bay, Richie tried to take Emily & I to a resort shopping area to get some souvenirs for friends and family back home.  Approaching the large gates to what appeared to be a mansion, we were told by security that we would not be allowed to enter.  No outsiders.  Even though we were clearly white tourists, we had not been approved, and could not be let on the grounds.  If we wanted to get in, we would have to email the head of security, get a password, blah, blah, blah.  Whoa.  What an obstacle course.  And if they wouldn't let us in, it was pretty clear they would never ever think of letting a local person in.  We left there and Richie took us to the downtown market instead, and I was happy our tourist money went to someone local who really needed it.

John & Gredel return home to Portland in one week and I can't wait to see them. They really do feel like extended family now and after hours upon hours chatting about life on their porch, I can totally understand their Patois.  Ok, well for the most part.  Here are some photos of my travels for you to enjoy.  I encourage you whole heartedly to go experience Jamaica, but to go with locals.  Or...you can just go with me next time.  I can't wait to go back....

The main public beach we hung out at. Montego Bay, Jamaica.

Random dude hanging out with us on the beach, picking up beach creatures...

Alice (my main squeeze) and I at Dunn's River Falls. She's the daughter of my neighbors here in Portland, and lives in Portland too but was home in Jamaica for vacation.  She took us out a lot and was a great host during our time there.

A guy in the market, selling his pumpkins!

Montego Bay, Jamaica

This picture I took from John & Gredel's yard, where we stayed. This was Pinky's teddy bear, hanging on the line to dry.  Pinky was one of my home girls while I was there.  Some people think this picture is weird, but I love it. I think it shows the love and poverty of the region...both things which were in abundance.

Pinky :)

This was the fence right across the street from our house.  I stared at it every day, and loved its reggae colors and broken ways.

This was in the neighborhood where we stayed.  These boys followed me around for a while and were doing anything they could to get their picture taken.  I have loads of pictures of them, but this was my favorite, when they climbed into this broken, abandoned car.  Tried and true, these kids were so very happy to be playing, even though by our US standards we would think of this to be dangerous and this car to be junk.  It's all about perception.

John!  One of our hosts!!  He looks like Yoda, I know.  And...he kinda talks like him too.  So much wisdom. I love this man very much. 

My sugar cane man!  He sat on the corner a few blocks down from our house and waited on a bucket all day for someone to buy some of his sugar cane.  I bought the darker colored one, behind him.  And then....

...after he peeled it for me, I took a totally offensive picture next to the town sign.  Well, Gredel had said "a lot of white women come to Jamaica for the 'big bamboo'".  You folks are gonna have to fill in the blanks, but this became a running joke during our stay, so I had to do something to remember it...

A very cool wall in downtown Montego Bay.

Long Beach

A road down the street from Opal's house, another friend we met during our stay.  This is what the area we were staying with looked like.  Lots of hills, dirt roads, and barred houses.

Our home with our hosts!  Gredel & John in the background, Richie in between us.  And, for the record, I'm wearing a swimsuit...so don't look up my skirt you sickos...

And last but not least, one of my favorite pics from our trip, my beautiful traveling companion and Portland roomie, Emily.  We had an amazing, amazing time, and I'm fairly confident this will not be our last adventure together.  One love <3

Kurt Robinson: Lungs to a New Life

So...I'm sick.  It's been going around lately and with me teaching 10 dance classes a week, hugging sweaty students and wiping my hands & body all over the dirty studio floor, I'm not too shocked to be on the receiving end.  But as I woke up this morning, and gradually opened my eyes, I realized that I felt waaaayyy sicker than I had the day before. My head was pounding, and my teeth were throbbing from my sinuses being plugged up (this happens to me every time I get sick, by the way. Don't know if it happens to everyone, but I even went to the dentist one time for the pain only to find I had a cold. But...that's a story for another day).  I roll onto my side, adjust a second pillow behind my back and gradually ease myself against the wall.  I let out a deep sigh.  I start running through my list of "to dos" for the day in my head. Then, out of nowhere, I sneeze. And, to my great surprise, snot shoots out of my nose and all over my hands.  GROSS!  My eyes start to water.  I am officially miserable. And disgusting.  I grab a kleenex off my side table and start to clean up the collateral damage.

Then, after a few morning rituals, washing my hands and putting more clothing on to seal my sickness, I turn on my computer.  Time to get started with work from home. And as I turn on my computer, I remember that I need to check up on my good friend Kurt on Facebook.  This is when my reality check (of how pathetic my cold is) sets in.

See, Kurt is a friend I grew up with, and I'm pretty sure that I spent almost every weekend in my latter years of high school at his house.  His mom made the best homemade cookies and he had a hot tub, so it was a deal sealed in gold.  I think we became friends because a few of the guys on my cheerleading squad were really good friends with Kurt, and so we all just ended up hanging out together. I witnessed and learned about way too many of their secret shenanigans they were pulling on people (mainly their step mothers), but enjoyed the entertainment. We lived in a small town, so anything to bide our time was exciting.  Kurt was athletic and had a sense of humor that didn't quit. And he was relentlessly positive...especially considering the cards he had been dealt.

Kurt...my date for Homecoming my Senior year of High School

Kurt has Cystic Fibrosis.  If you don't know what that is, read here: http://www.cff.org/aboutcf/ .  Basically in a nutshell, Cystic Fibrosis makes it so that your lungs cannot function properly.  Ever since I've know Kurt, he's been fighting with this disease on a regular basis.  Taking medications, routine doctor visits, being on machines, and many emergency trips to the hospital.  But Kurt has beat the odds, and has done so due to his great exercise regimen and his positive outlook on life.

Since high school, I've stayed in touch with Kurt on and off and have tried to support him the best I can.  I went to several Cystic Fibrosis walks with him and all our friends in Corvallis, and a few years ago was fortunate enough to attend his wedding.  About two years ago, Kurt got a chance at a new life: new lungs.  It was a huge operation for him, but he made it through and had been recovering well until a few months ago.  I don't want to get his very personal story wrong, so I'll let you read for yourself. On his blog: http://lungstoanewlife.blogspot.com/?view=classic

But...long story short?  Kurt needs a miracle.  His first set of lungs failed him and he is in desperate need of another double lung transplant.  Kurt, his family and all of his friends are all waiting on the edge of their seats day by day for Kurt to get a new set of lungs. He HAS to maintain his strength and show the transplant doctors that he is fighting for this, or they will not award him this transplant.  He is fighting, but he needs support and love from as many people as he can to get him through.  His daily reality consists of coughing, and not being able to hold down food from all the vomiting.  Because his lungs are not functioning, he cannot talk.  He only communicates with people in the same room with him via computer/texting, when he is coherent enough to do so.

So when I logged onto Facebook today, I was exuberant to see that someone had started a "Go Fund Me" page for Kurt...a way for all of us who love him and feel helpless to help out.  I already re-posted it on my personal Facebook page, but I know that a lot of my readers on my blog are not on Facebook, or do not personally know me at all.  If you feel like you're in need of doing a good deed, or you have some extra change in your pocket that is weighing you down, I ask you with all my heart to consider donating to Kurt & his family to get him a new pair of lungs.  Even if you pledge $1, just to say you care.  Kurt & his wife are expecting a baby boy in June.  All that he wants is to be healthy enough to love and support his family:

http://www.gofundme.com/6un8j4

Now take a deep breath.  Inhale, and exhale.  Appreciate your lungs in all their glory.

And...while you're at it (you know, breathing and all....) become an organ donor. And start giving more people, like my friend Kurt, a second chance at life.