Since moving to this sodden, misty, magical city, I've concentrated my aerial efforts in hoop. The holy grail of a bendy back (don't take it for granted, naturally bendy sisters!) shall be mine, having worked up to warming it up every day may seem a small victory but it is one I cherish.
So now what? I have a gig coming up in late July which desires tissu. So I'm hauling out my springy, violet-hued silks (Felix, after the Goddess of the pole Felix Cane) and kindly asking my arms to remember how to climb. How to climb, repeatedly, for 8 consecutive minutes. I always did love a good challenge, and I think this one's going in the display case.
Faced with such a demand, it's easy for me to get obsessive, train hard every day, emotionally severe, destroy many muscle fibers and then heal up just in time for the performance. Fun, huh? This time, I'm trying a new approach. Setting realistic, approachable goals every day and keeping my face-licker internal destruct button set to "OFF."
Today: break in pointe shoes (Russian Pointe brand are the hardest shoes I've ever owned)
remain on tissu 6 consecutive minutes.
run through hoop piece for performance tomorrow night.
Tomorrow's show is a private event held by Groupon at Emerald City Trapeze, featuring the innovative, enchanting music of Surrealized and the aerial stylings of...just about everyone I know in Seattle.
that is all.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Getting back to it.
Ah, coming back to the studio after 12 days of inactivity. How wobbly the body can feel after such a short time away, and what a relief to feel that sweat break again. For the umpteenth time in my life, Dan Millman has come to my aid in the form of a book that was my papa's, "The Warrior Athlete." (why doesn't blogger have a freaking underline key?)
My training is so tied up in my view of the world and my place in it, I can get lost crawling around on the expansive face of Things I Want To Do, and don't forget Impossible Things To Accomplish in One Day. This approach, although it feeds my motivation (almost) tirelessly, can inhibit my training to the tune of 2 steps forward, 1 step back.
So I'm learning to cut it off. I can't go from vacation body to invincible Amazon body in one training session, much as my ego tries to persuade me so.
So, realistic goals must be set, not just physical goals but emotional and mental goals as well. How do you want to feel when you leave the studio?
And even more importantly, how do you prepare mentally when you enter it?
In SF there was a feeling of respect and gratitude that surrounded Circus Center. You took your shoes off when you entered the gym. Teachers were revered as the creatures that they were, celebrated for their knowledge and their willingness to share it. Students who had been there longer than you had clear seniority, and were regarded as such, like a grad school student to a freshman. Even if they weren't shooting stars yet, once you learned the caliber of what the training demanded, you felt respect for anyone who had devoted themselves to it. Of course people gossiped and were bitchy, that's what people do generally. But the respect for the form, it was assumed from the beginning. It informed how you approached the work.
This attitude of stated reverence is missing from Seattle. The competitive nature of the work has, at points, chewed away at decency. Aerial is here, thanks to Lara Paxton, Tamara Dover, and Teatro Zinzanni (as far as I know), but it is still new.
I am not a martial artist, but I think the comparison has merit. It's not just a physical discipline.
So the general cloud of mental creaminess is missing, so you can't depend on it being there. You have to make it yourself, every time. How often do I walk into a room and let it's overall energy signature assume itself as mine? It's normal to do so, unconscious I think. So I'm learning to carry it with me, to project what I want from my training that day onto the stage and into my arms.
And hopefully it will be sticky like spiny little stars, and fill in the spaces and be inhaled into the lungs of co-trainers.
My training is so tied up in my view of the world and my place in it, I can get lost crawling around on the expansive face of Things I Want To Do, and don't forget Impossible Things To Accomplish in One Day. This approach, although it feeds my motivation (almost) tirelessly, can inhibit my training to the tune of 2 steps forward, 1 step back.
So I'm learning to cut it off. I can't go from vacation body to invincible Amazon body in one training session, much as my ego tries to persuade me so.
So, realistic goals must be set, not just physical goals but emotional and mental goals as well. How do you want to feel when you leave the studio?
And even more importantly, how do you prepare mentally when you enter it?
In SF there was a feeling of respect and gratitude that surrounded Circus Center. You took your shoes off when you entered the gym. Teachers were revered as the creatures that they were, celebrated for their knowledge and their willingness to share it. Students who had been there longer than you had clear seniority, and were regarded as such, like a grad school student to a freshman. Even if they weren't shooting stars yet, once you learned the caliber of what the training demanded, you felt respect for anyone who had devoted themselves to it. Of course people gossiped and were bitchy, that's what people do generally. But the respect for the form, it was assumed from the beginning. It informed how you approached the work.
This attitude of stated reverence is missing from Seattle. The competitive nature of the work has, at points, chewed away at decency. Aerial is here, thanks to Lara Paxton, Tamara Dover, and Teatro Zinzanni (as far as I know), but it is still new.
I am not a martial artist, but I think the comparison has merit. It's not just a physical discipline.
So the general cloud of mental creaminess is missing, so you can't depend on it being there. You have to make it yourself, every time. How often do I walk into a room and let it's overall energy signature assume itself as mine? It's normal to do so, unconscious I think. So I'm learning to carry it with me, to project what I want from my training that day onto the stage and into my arms.
And hopefully it will be sticky like spiny little stars, and fill in the spaces and be inhaled into the lungs of co-trainers.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Addendum.
After the somewhat surprising amount of venom in my last post, I figured it was time for me to get taken down a notch, which is exactly what happened the next day. Allow me to elaborate.
I teach aerial technique and conditioning, and sometimes hoop, at the venerable Emerald City Trapeze Arts. The most distinguishing thing about this beloved space is the righteous flying trapeze rig inside, and the constant presence of people willing and eager to jump from the 40 foot high platform and plummet through the air at a barely controlled pace.
Very distinguishing characteristic.
So everyone is very surprised to find out that I have never, myself, toppled off the platform of my own accord. My reasons were plentiful: not attracted to the apparati, don't want to divide my focus, blablabla. All true. But it turns out that it is super lame to work at a flying trapeze school without once flying on the trapeze.
So I stayed after my class some deigned Thursday with a collection of rockin people to try it out. During my first swing, even though I swore I wouldn't, I ending up screaming "holy f**k BALLS!!!" After my second swing, I remembered that I don't enjoy rollercoasters, speedy driving, or even swinging big on a swing set. I started to think perhaps this wasn't for me. When I crawled off the net that second time, my uterus clamped around my IUD like a fist, in a psychosomatic response to my nerves, causing me to double up in pain. When it refused to unclamp, I eventually threw in the towel, taking of my line belt and officially ending my flying trapeze career, sitting the rest of the class out.
I have a whole new respect for the people that come into our studio to fly. I'm in the back, on my hoop or doing conditioning, watching these people walk through the door from their desk jobs or freelance writing careers, climb up that 40 foot ladder, and jump off the platform without a backward glance. I am amazed. How are they doing this? My first attempt, I had been doing aerial for nearly 3 years, and trust my hands to hold me up and my shoulders to be strong. Some of these women have beautiful little tiny hands and couldn't do a push up, but fearlessly dive through the air to the tune of someone they've never met telling them what to do.
And maybe I'm just a control freak, but I'll stick to spinning in my hoop and having power over the momentum, and continue to possess a slackjawed reverence for these crazy brave people who possess an aspect of freedom that I do not. There is some inherent love of falling that people have...I don't have it. After that second run, I knew without a doubt I was 100% happy with never doing it again. Shaun can't get enough of it, and what's more he's really good at it, out of nowhere. World, once again, you have caught me by surprise.
I teach aerial technique and conditioning, and sometimes hoop, at the venerable Emerald City Trapeze Arts. The most distinguishing thing about this beloved space is the righteous flying trapeze rig inside, and the constant presence of people willing and eager to jump from the 40 foot high platform and plummet through the air at a barely controlled pace.
Very distinguishing characteristic.
So everyone is very surprised to find out that I have never, myself, toppled off the platform of my own accord. My reasons were plentiful: not attracted to the apparati, don't want to divide my focus, blablabla. All true. But it turns out that it is super lame to work at a flying trapeze school without once flying on the trapeze.
So I stayed after my class some deigned Thursday with a collection of rockin people to try it out. During my first swing, even though I swore I wouldn't, I ending up screaming "holy f**k BALLS!!!" After my second swing, I remembered that I don't enjoy rollercoasters, speedy driving, or even swinging big on a swing set. I started to think perhaps this wasn't for me. When I crawled off the net that second time, my uterus clamped around my IUD like a fist, in a psychosomatic response to my nerves, causing me to double up in pain. When it refused to unclamp, I eventually threw in the towel, taking of my line belt and officially ending my flying trapeze career, sitting the rest of the class out.
I have a whole new respect for the people that come into our studio to fly. I'm in the back, on my hoop or doing conditioning, watching these people walk through the door from their desk jobs or freelance writing careers, climb up that 40 foot ladder, and jump off the platform without a backward glance. I am amazed. How are they doing this? My first attempt, I had been doing aerial for nearly 3 years, and trust my hands to hold me up and my shoulders to be strong. Some of these women have beautiful little tiny hands and couldn't do a push up, but fearlessly dive through the air to the tune of someone they've never met telling them what to do.
And maybe I'm just a control freak, but I'll stick to spinning in my hoop and having power over the momentum, and continue to possess a slackjawed reverence for these crazy brave people who possess an aspect of freedom that I do not. There is some inherent love of falling that people have...I don't have it. After that second run, I knew without a doubt I was 100% happy with never doing it again. Shaun can't get enough of it, and what's more he's really good at it, out of nowhere. World, once again, you have caught me by surprise.
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