Critique Archives - Alia Thabit

How to Accept Praise (+ grow as an artist)

Here’s a Love Note from the 2015 90 Days. This year is the 10th anniversary of the first 90 Day Dance Party! To celebrate, we’ll do a 90 Days in 2023. Tentative start date is Feb 19. Look for an early bird special for Black Friday.

It’s also the 50th anniversary of my life in Oriental dance. More about that coming up, too.

***

When I was a kid, my grandmother assured me she would pay for all my college textbooks. Not having any idea what books cost, and having been drilled in self-sufficiency, I said, Oh, no—no need. My mild, loving grandmother fixed me with a steely eye and snapped, “When someone offers you money, you take it!”

We could accept a few other things, too. Praise, for example. Thanks. Success. What happens when a student gets an award, but doesn’t tell anyone? A writer completes her novel (which took years of late nights after work and children). She puts it away in a drawer. A dancer finishes her show and runs off, leaving the audience to applaud an empty stage…

Why we reject the positive

Many of us have been slapped for pride or vanity, those convenient sins through which others put us in our place. When we think well of ourselves, do anything for ourselves, enjoy life a little bit, plenty of folks are only too happy to cut us down. (Some take a lot of satisfaction in raining on everyone else’s parade. Maybe it makes them feel better about being dreamless, unhappy, finger-pointing grinches) In any case, it hurts. A lot.

After being kicked quite a bit, we may be loathe to raise our heads again. We hunker down, keeping all our goodness to ourselves. When others compliment us, we deflect those compliments. We barely say thank you. We point out our flaws, instead. Because we are not going to be lifted up on false hopes, only to be dashed again to the rocks. We have been betrayed and disappointed in ourselves too many times for that. It’s safer, sure. But….

There’s a problem with this

Several, actually.

One is that the world is deprived of our voice, our contribution. We may feel they don’t deserve it, having been snotty to us in the past, but the world is so much bigger than our little corner of it! How many others suffer as we have done? How many would welcome a voice that validated their experience? As artists, we heal the world. When we refuse to share our wealth of insight and experience, we shut out change.

Another is that it’s rude. Our admirer is left holding the bag. Someone who was moved enough to risk coming up to talk to us just got the door slammed in their face. I don’t care how introverted, shy, or self hating we may be, it’s our responsibility to accept compliments.

A third is that it corrodes our souls. We are so hard on ourselves. Nothing is ever enough. We belittle our own efforts so routinely, we are astonished when anyone exhibits such poor taste as to compliment us. We assume that compliments are anything from empty politeness to stupidity, to the ravings of lunatics or perverts. So we deflect them. We ignore them. Or we sneer at them. And we cherish instead dissatisfaction, envy, resentment, and regret that destroy our happiness.

What can we do?

Say thank you. Genuinely. With all our heart. None of that eye-rolling dismissal. No qualifiers. We can’t know what our actions may mean to someone. Our words, activities, whatever, carry far more weight and importance than we can ever imagine. So every bit of positive feedback is to be treasured, respected, and acknowledged.

Accept thanks from others. Don’t just thank them back. Say, You’re welcome. Afwan. De nada. My pleasure. Take a moment to appreciate their gift. They want to express their feeling. It’s churlish to short-circuit this. It hurts us and them.

Celebrate success. Enjoying our own accomplishments is a vital step on the road to self-compassion. Like shutting out compliments, shutting out success leads to gray days and dark nights. It’s really okay to take pleasure in accomplishment! We are so often afraid of seeming vain or conceited. We don’t want to burden anyone. So we keep our mouths shut. But at what cost?

Wait, what if that “compliment” is really a sarcastic snark?

All the more reason to genuinely thank the giver. Graciousness is the best revenge. Nothing pisses off a detractor more than missing the mark. In fact, act really touched. Bring a tear if you can. It’s worth it. Lol, just kidding (a little). But do treat everyone as though they are genuine. Let god sort them out. Besides, sometimes the shock of kindness can change a person.

Gratitude conclusively upgrades our lives. Saying thank you, you’re welcome, and celebrating success help us appreciate the good things in our lives. Few of us are narcissists. In fact, many are hobbled by self-doubt. We could all use some more positivity and pleasure.

Look for the good.

Find the good

Cherish it. Share it.

Love,
Alia

PS We’re doing the 90 Days again. It starts Feb 19th. In honor of this, I’m posting a Love Note most weeks from now to then, each from one of the previous 90 Days.

How to Crush Joy–or Savor It…

Delsie Hoyt makes beautiful art-quality braided rugs. They are a joy to see! She also teaches rug braiding. She says it makes her chuckle when students bring their project to her, often in tears, to show some terrible mistake they have made, some wrong twist somewhere along the line—and now their project is ruined. Ruined! Delsie throws the rug on the floor so the whole thing is visible. “Can you see that now?”

The answer is generally No.

Once we step back into a wider perspective, things tend to even out.

As humans, we tend to orient towards any potential threat–we get so used to that, we will invent one when we can’t find any. I recently piloted the class How to Dance (or Speak) for the Camera. Over the course of the class, folks became much more confident and skilled in their on-camera interactions. It was a real pleasure to witness! We met every other week; folk also received two personal sessions to use as they wished (from SE work to resolve anxiety to practical coaching on tech issues). Participants practiced with the group and developed strategies for their particular approaches.

One of the most important parts of the work was feedback on the practice presentations. The only feedback allowed was avid attention, enthusiastic applause, and things we liked about the presentation. Yep, that was it. And it’s harder than it sounds. Not the giving–there are so many wonderful things to notice when we look for them. It’s the receiving that is hard.

Who among us can take a compliment?

I mean, really hear it, savor it, let it sink in? It’s kinda hard, right? We are so used to being told what’s wrong. Where we need work. How to improve. We’ve been conditioned to think we need that. We mistrust compliments. We want brutal honesty.

What, compliments are inherently dishonest?

What about kind honesty?

I have taught English composition at the college level for 25 years. I teach students how to write papers. One term, I got a note from a student who thanked me. She said, You are the only English teach in my entire life who ever complimented my writing. I kept that note on my office wall to remind me what’s important. Kindness. Positive reinforcement. A focus on what’s good. Because when I do that, I see student work improve.

I find it in dance as well.

And I found it in that camera class. Creating a safe space for students to play, to try new things, made a difference. A big difference. So I, too, chuckled when folks came to their personal session asking me to actually critique their work. Like what was wrong, needed work, improvement, and so forth.

Thus, I was delighted when a friend mentioned this article, The Case Against Critical Feedback (Thank you Sajia!). The article starts with,

Earlier this year, I took a writing workshop where one of the chief rules was no negative or even constructively critical feedback. This was odd to me, as I’ve always enjoyed constructive feedback and felt it improved my writing. But I went with the new method, and the effect was nothing short of transformational. It felt like magic: as if by one wave of a wand, my writers block was gone.
Lauren D. Woods

I gotta say, I am with Lauren Woods on this. It is so easy to crush joy and enthusiasm, and soooo hard to get it back. We find this in dance alll the time, people’s joy in dance crushed by negative feedback, by making into WORK something that is meant to be FUN.

I recently assisted at a year-long Somatic Experiencing training. Assistants sit in on student sessions to help hold the container and create a safe space. We also give feedback. We talk about what we liked. And we ask afterwards, how was it for you to hear that? Why do we do this? People have to make mistakes in order to learn. People are reasonably smart, and most of them learn by observing. So we let them make mistakes and learn through doing. It’s surprisingly effective.

So all those things you feel guilty about because you should be doing better? Should be entirely perfect? Throw them on the floor. Step back into a wider perspective. Look at what you HAVE done. What IS working.

Look at you! You’ve survived, all this time!

This is nothing short of a miracle.

Celebrate your life. Your strength. Your resilience. All that you have been, done, and all that crap that’s been done to you. Yet here you are. Reading this.

Take a moment and let that sink in.

You are beautiful. You are loved.

Say it with me:

I am Alive.

I am Real.

Let that sink in, too.

With respect, appreciation, and love,

Alia

PS Thank you for supporting the Bundle, and my work through the Bundle. I appreciate your choice.

How to self critique (without wanting to die)

When I was 16 or 17, I danced at the local block party. It was my first performance, ever. My homemade costume took weeks. I made a grand entrance from the big doors on the parlor floor of my house and danced down the front steps. I did floorwork in the street. Lots of people gathered, and everyone cheered. It was a big hit. I was happy.

A friend filmed the show (we didn’t have video back then). A few weeks later, we all sat down to watch the movie.

Imagine my horror when the film brought back every moment of worry. I was paralyzed by shame. All the fun memories were smashed by the anxiety the film ignited. And this was only my first performance. Over so many years, even when a show felt great and I I got great response from the guests, when I saw the video, I cringed.

It’s taken most of my life to enjoy my own performances. I’d like to help you enjoy yours–now.

What is self critique?

Self critique means looking at our own work with the intention of understanding its strengths and weaknesses. We see what we are doing well, and where we could improve. Take special note of that last sentence—strength as well as weakness. The problem is, most of us have no idea about our strengths, since all we ever see are our weaknesses.

Why self critique?

Why not just ask our teachers and friends to give us advice? Certainly teachers who know more than we do could do a better job of diagnosing our dance and offering solid advice.

We might like doing it ourselves.
Self-critique gives us a lot of control. We can take our time and analyze what worked and what didn’t from our perspective, based upon what we wanted to accomplish. It happens on our own time, when we are ready to do it. While it is incredibly helpful to get honest, unbiased feedback from a mentor or peer, no one needs judgmental comments made by folks who don’t “get” what we are doing.

We may not have reliable mentors/friends.
Thanks to the internet, many of us have learned to dance through videos. We don’t have any friends or teachers that we can easily ask for feedback. It’s fine to ask a random pal what they thought, but they may not know enough about what we are trying to do to give us actionable feedback.

Or we may have plenty of dancer peeps, but we may have outgrown their level of expertise. Or their objectivity may be compromised by their own baggage. It’s challenging to get critique from someone who feels threatened by us, or is obsessed with minor issues of correctness.

Plenty of people will tell us what we did wrong.
But not so many will celebrate what we did right. So we are going to learn to do this for ourselves.

The key is objectivity.

This means we have a set of criteria that can be applied across the board to help us measure our accomplishments. AND we have to know which elements are most important—because, frankly, having a good time is more important than whether your hip scarf was tucked just so. Yet so many of us feel a dance was ruined because of some little glitch! If the dance reaches the guests, they never notice that hip scarf, except in the briefest of passing moments. So our tasks are

• Develop a set of objective criteria
• Rank these from most to least important (you may be surprised)
• Apply them as tools to help us focus and improve our dance.

What’s really great about this set of elements is that they are helpful to teachers as well. This is why I developed the course Focus on the Feeling (FoF 😉

FoF is special

Fof helps dancers learn self-critique. It helps us develop an objective view. It helps us help our dance friends, too. AND it helps teachers learn to value strengths and provide more compassionate, productive help for their students.

There are five weeks of classes. Each one focuses on a different tool. All the tools work together–and you can use them for more than dance–in fact, you can assess pretty much anything.

FoF is also special because it is hosted on a private forum. No Facebook groups! It features daily accountability, daily instructor interaction (that’s me ; ), and a fun group of like-minded dancers.

I’ve been teaching critique for over twenty years
I had to learn to help my own students. And now I’m here to help you–and your students ; )

It all starts next week… Focus on the Feeling

Love,
Alia

And of course, there’s more!

The Bellydance Bundle
Yes, the Bundle is back ; ). Better than ever, too. Available Oct 16-24.

Focus on the Feeling
FoF starts Monday, Oct 21–right around the corner! Compassionate, productive critique is such a useful skill in our dance. If you’d like to join, please do! This is one of my favorite classes.

ACE Mastermind
This past summer (here in the US) five of us piloted the Artist’s Creative Expression (ACE) Mastermind. It was a happy success, so much so that it is now going public! If you would like to be involved, there is still room! We’ll start up in late Oct or early Nov and go through the end of the year.

FUN Classes
FUN classes are just that–FUN. They are a one-hour, improv-focused, follow-me, vacation form the real world. The current crop begins Thursday Oct 24. These are available here.

FREE Fun Class
We will also have FREE live Fun Class open to the public on Thursday, Oct 17 at 7PM EDT (a recording will be available until to stream until Weds, Oct 23). Please do come, and feel free to invite your friends. Here is the link to sign up: https://alia-thabit.ck.page/free-fun-class

What is the Most Terrifying Thing in Belly Dance? (and how do we tame it?)

Well, maybe it’s a tie with improvisation, but see what you think ; )

A friend of mine had a terrible disaster fall upon her. Several, actually. And she had an event to do. She could barely function, but she hosted the event, and she did her show. We, her friends, sat at the tables and sent her so much love. Despite it all, she was beautiful and courageous.

Just as she left the stage, a visiting dancer told her how much better she would look if she brought her shoulders down. Um, yeah. She’d look a lot better if the world hadn’t just taken a big dump on her head, too. But this dancer just had to say her piece. CRASH. Good-bye, all the joy of having done the hard thing.

It’s happened to all of us.

“Your dance would be so much better if you <insert some opinion here>.” It’s not whether they are right or not. It’s the time. And the place. And the agenda. And why is so much importance placed on niggling details–yet the content of the dance is never even mentioned?

Who doesn’t live in in fear of the Dance Police? Sometimes it seems like anyone at any time feels entitled to tell us about our art. And not in a good way. Not to mention the sense of doom we have when we go to watch the video of our latest dance. It’s tough when we have so many things to worry about.

People generally never learn how to do a proper critique. A proper critique includes productive feedback on strengths and weaknesses. It is kind, honest, and empowering. It is delivered neutrally. It listens to the artist’s vision and helps them accomplish what they want, to say what they want to say.

But when do we get that? Even folks who went to art school (any of the arts), are often critiqued viciously, on purpose, to break them down or make them cry or whatever. And how many of us grew up in homes where everyone pointed out all our flaws? Yeah, me too. So when I started working as a writing teacher, I learned how to critique my students so that their writing actually got better–and they felt good about it.

Poor critique causes unnecessary pain. Productive critique brings encouragement, curiosity, and inspiration. Being subject to anyone’s mean-spirited, cutting critique is terrifying. Learning how to critique well, how to ask for what we need–this is how we tame it.

I see a lot of problems with getting good feedback.

Lots of dancers frustrated because all they got was empty saccharine compliments or snotty remarks about their hair. Or complaints that any useful comments are not sisterly–a notion that quality doesn’t matter, it’s all about sisterhood. Teachers frustrated by trying to help dancers improve, only to be met with hurt feelings and bitterness. Opinions are presented as facts. Dancers feel shamed. A mess, all around.

So I made a class, to teach what I had learned. It’s called…

Focus on the Feeling: How to Get and Give Great Critique

The premise of the course is that Oriental dance has some specific cultural ideals, and these come first. The feeling in the moment, sharing joy, playfulness, and so forth. If those aren’t happening, stop. Work on that. Once those elements are in place, then we may proceed to other layers of the dance.

I collected five models I have found useful into a cohesive whole, with an arc that begins with calling out the good and concludes with the use of rubrics to help us note what’s important and to really see what is there.

Every piece of it is carefully designed to shine light on our art. Not only that, but it teaches dancers how to do productive self-critique (instead of hating on all our perceived flaws ; ). So it’s useful for dancers and students who want to have more nuanced approach to their own dance, and for teachers who want to help their students improve. It’s a win-win!

I feel so strongly about useful critique that I’ve made the early price ridiculously cheap. I spend a good half hour per week on each person on the course. Even if I value my time at $50/hr (which is cheap for a college instructor with over 45 years of experience in the dance), that’s still $300 of my time over the five weeks.

The early price won’t last long. It goes away when 10 seats are filled or Sept 22, whichever comes first. But the benefits of the class? Those last forever.

Imagine feeling good about your dance.

Imagine enjoying video of yourself. Imagine being able to help your friends or students improve–and having them feel good about it. All this can be yours.

I invite you to check it out.

Focus on the Feeling: How to Get and Give Great Critique

Love,
Alia

PS I am selling some Geisha Moth and Melodia dancewear. Have a look!

How to critique for confidence (or, “What the hell is this B?”)

A gal I knew was raised to believe that she mustn’t handle flowers when she had her period, because the flowers would die. I’m not kidding. People used to believe this.

I was shocked to meet someone for whom this had once been a truth. We met in the first belly dance class I ever took, so she had finally figured out there was something wrong with that picture (and it is an easy test, after all).

Sadly, many of us are raised with equally outdated beliefs and models

And we never even think to question them.

One of the more dysfunctional models with which I was raised was the dismissal of anything done well, and a focus on what was wrong. For example, growing up, I never heard, “Oh, honey, four As. Nice work!” Nope. All I got was, “What the hell is this B?” So this is how I talked to myself, too.

My self-critique was vicious. I couldn’t watch a video of my own dance without wanting to die. I never saw the good of what I did. I felt anxious and insecure.

I see that same focus on what’s wrong in many of my dance friends and students. We have been brainwashed into thinking that we have to be perfect or stay home. Women especially are tyrannized by the expectation of perfection. That’s just a myth designed to keep us powerless. When we focus our critique on what’s wrong, we rob ourselves of confidence and accomplishment. When we focus on what’s right, we win.

Switching to what’s right builds confidence

In child-rearing, the productive model is to tell the kids what to do. Instead of saying NO all the time, you can say YES. Instead of “Don’t touch that!” you redirect the kid to what is okay for them to play with. This was a big shift. When I started teaching writing at the college level, I educated myself about how to teach, how to do critique. Wow. I learned a LOT. It changed me as a teacher and as a human being.

Focus on student success

I have been a teacher at some level since the early 80s, working first for Headstart and later as a Speech Language Assistant in the public school system. I now teach English Composition at the college level (and have for over 20 years), so I have to do a lot of critique.

It was a hard job to change this in myself, but it mattered a lot. I was a LOT nicer to my students than to myself, but I still told them what was wrong with their work instead of what was right. It didn’t work very well–for me or them.

The main thing I learned is to emphasize everything students did right. I even developed rubrics with all the tasks so I could find more things to compliment. And I went one step further. When we discussed what needed improvement, I framed it as an action step—something to do, instead of taking them to task for mistakes.

For a dance example, to a student with good presence but sloppy, floppy hands, I’d say, “I love your shining presence. I’d love to see you bring that energy into your hands. What if you try this?” And I’d demonstrate. This worked. It worked with the writers and the dancers. It worked for me, too.

Yes, there is a lot of crappy dance out there

But is shaming dancers for their mistakes going to make it any better? What if we try another way? When dancers enjoy the pleasure of the movement and the moment, when they give themselves to the the dance, when they are relaxed enough to enjoy the process, they feel more confident–and their technique often improves organically.

Nothing is perfect. Everything has room to develop. This life is is about becoming, not being. We learn, we grow, we change. Otherwise, we are dead. We copy to learn, we take classes, study others, and practice. But there comes a time when we must hop out on the branch, flap our wings, launch ourselves, and fly. Taking such risks benefits us in so many ways, some understood and others yet to come.

Will our first efforts suck?

Of course they will! Growth and learning include failure and revision. That’s how we learn—through trial and error, persistence, feedback, and trying again. Embracing process, identifying and correcting errors, this is key to improvement. Shame is not.

Let’s all learn how to reinforce the good, critique wisely, and model Eastern dance principles.

And what is the most important of these?

The most important thing is the feeling!

Look for that first. Everything else can wait.

Love,
Alia

How to avoid Typo Critique (and why you want to)

My friend Phil finished his PhD dissertation and sent it off to his advisor. It came back with red marks for typos and comma errors–but not one word about the content. Was it good? Was it bad? He had no clue. All his advisor noted were these relatively minor errors.

This is exactly what happens in dance. We do a whole dance, but the only comment we get is, your hands are floppy. Someone else says, your shoulders are tight. Some else disses your hair. And so forth. So we end up constantly scanning for these hot button corrections–which makes us feel anxious and hunted.

This affects us when we look at our own dance, too. Do you cringe when watching your own videos? I did. All I saw were my mistakes, and they consumed me with shame. I never even noticed what I did well. What about the dance? The content, the ideas? Use of the stage? Music choice and representation? Why do we so often focus on these red-herring technical corrections instead of substantive elements like structure and content?

The sad truth is, most folks don’t know how to give productive critique. They only tell us what not to do. They notice some annoying technical detail–and that’s all they focus on. Or they have an ulterior motive to be better than us, so they cut us down with mean comments. We feel bad about ourselves and our dance. What good does this do? None. How does it help? It doesn’t.

How can we do better? Ah, now we’re talking.

Productive critique is a collaboration. As respondents, we look at the big picture, understand the artist’s vision, and empower them to find their own way.

Productive critique helps us make better art. All artists need feedback. We don’t have the expertise and perspective to see where we cut a corner, missed a mark, or lost an opportunity. An outside eye can see more clearly than we can. But that outside eye needs to know what to look for. Productive critique empowers us to see our own art–and everyone else’s–with fresh, compassionate eyes.

See the Big Picture.

Higher Order Concerns (HOCs) are the top level of our art. Is the dancer enjoying herself? Does she share her joy with the guests? Is she one with the music? These are the trifecta of mastery in Oriental dance. Focus on these elements first. Everyone loves a relaxed, happy dancer whose joy includes the guests as she embodies the music, right? If these are yes, celebrate! Then you can go deeper. If the answer to any one of these is NO, the critique stops. Everything takes a back seat to this.

Sure, we all have technical issues. Yes, they are important. But these are Lower-Order Concerns (LOCs). That typo is a superficial thing, easily cured by proofreading When people don’t know how to assess structure and content, they become fixated on small tech issues. As a writing teacher, I have learned to look past technical errors to see the big picture–and I have learned to do this in dance as well. So can you. And it’s worth the investment.

When we focus on HOCs, many tech glitches disappear–all by themselves. How does this happen? When we feel confident, we dance better. When we have something to say, we want to say it well. We start to notice things all by ourselves and address them. It’s a big win-win.

Understand the artist’s vision.

As artists, we have a specific ideas we want to convey. If a respondent isn’t on the same page, they may steer us in a direction far removed from where we want to go. For this reason, it is more productive to ask questions than to give opinions–especially unsolicited opinions.

Once we know where the artist wants to go, we can help them figure out how to get there. This includes observing and highlighting what they are doing right. People need to now what to do more of. Plenty of people will tell you what you are doing wring (in their opinion). It takes a keen eye to notice what is good and to celebrate that.

PS If the artist doesn’t ask, don’t dump your vision on their head. If you have an observation or opinion about a dancer’s work, ask first if they would care to hear it. And remember, no means no. Artist’s have to find their own way. A lot of “errors” can be chalked up to youthful inexperience. Shaming a dancer for her choices is pointless and destructive.

Empower the artist to find their own way.

Nobody likes to be told what to do. But we do love to discover. When a thoughtful discussion helps us to see where we want to go and understand the various ways to get there, we can make informed choices about how best to proceed. If the obvious trail is rife with bandits and steep cliffs, it’s nice to know that. But it is our choice to proceed.

What about Self-Critique?

Many of us have no tools and no reliable respondents. We can use these same tools to help ourselves move forward. The other most important thing is The first step is separating ourselves from the dancer (and the dance), in the video. She is not us! She is Video Girl. From there, we can assess Video Girl based on HOCs instead of LOCs to see what she is doing right, and where we can help her improve.

If a writer doesn’t know what point they want to make, nothing else is going to work. But if the editor can’t get the point because all they see is a typo, nothing’s going to work either. It’s the same in dance. Find your dance’s point, and point everything in that direction. Relax! Have fun, enjoy the music, and share your joy. Your dance will instantly improve, and so will the rest of your life.

Love,
Alia

For more on Productive Critique, check out the course
Focus on the Feeling: How to Get and Give Great Critique
https://aliathabit.com/dancers/focus-on-the-feeling/

How thankfulness in dance brings joy and peace into our lives

Amity+Alia — Alia and Amity at the birth of Amity’s new studio

In the USA, we have this powerful myth of the first Thanksgiving. The first pilgrims came to the shores of this country, escaping religious differences in England. The indigenous peoples kindly took pity on them and invited them to a feast. The pilgrims were so grateful for this kindness that they commemorated the feast as a national holiday.

Today, laden tables will be set in every home that can afford it (even the virtual genocide of native folk hasn’t dimmed the glory of Thanksgiving). Each person at the table may even be pushed to to name something for which they are thankful. Which they will do, however sulkily. On other days, though, most folks focus on what’s wrong (of which there is always plenty).

What if we highlight what’s right? There has recently been a lot of research that highlights the power of good–of thankfulness and gratitude in daily life. Folks who prioritize the positive feel happier and more at peace with their world. The impact of terrible events recedes, and love finds a foothold in their hearts.

We can bring this practice into our dance with marvelous effect. Kenny Werner, the author of Effortless Mastery, said, you can be the most miraculous player in the universe, never hit a wrong note–but still not be free. He said, the only way you can be free is to love your playing *even when you play badly.* When you hit wrong notes, make mistakes, and generally suck.

Freedom means loving yourself–and your art–no matter what. How radical is that? We are so conditioned to punish ourselves, dismiss compliments, and obsess over our flaws. Where is our thanksgiving?Where is our gratitude for the joy of creating art with movement, this marvelous dance that offers us joy, solace, and a pleasurable, self-loving relationship with our bodies?

What if we let this year be different? What if we choose to reflect upon ourselves with kindness and love? Our dance will not suffer. It will not grow less. It will grow more, as our dance, too, becomes more loving and filled with joy. As we fill ourselves, we fill those around us. The whole world wins.

What if you write a love letter to the dance? To your teachers. And to yourself, as a dancer. Tell yourself all you have accomplished, how beautiful you are, and how much joy you have brought into the world through dance. Write one today–and every week for a month. No negatives–just the good. Replace negative thoughts with love and affirmative warmth.

Next time you dance, what if you just enjoy yourself? Enjoy the pleasure of your moving body. Only do what feels good, what feels easy, what your beautiful body enjoys. Allow yourself this pleasure, this happiness.

It’s a dance of joy.

Let’s enjoy it.

Love,
Alia

How to Enjoy Dance Practice Part IV

In this series, we look at how dance has turned from a pleasurable fun activity to one of perfectionism and hard work. The series began with the observations of a dance friend, Sarah, who noticed that practicing improvisation was seen as less valuable than drilling or fitting combos into other songs.

Our first strategy was making time for creative work. Read Part I here.

Our second strategy was Opting for the Most Pleasurable. Read Part II here.

Our third strategy was Share Your Joy. Read Part III here.

So we’ve looked at a lot of strategies.

Now let’s look at some caveats–things to watch out for. Sarah mentioned that she and her dance friends tended to dismiss “just improv” as not a quality practice session.

We must consider what a person means by “just improv.” If they mean put on music and hop around on autopilot, no, that is not going to make them a better dancer. It will maybe up their stamina, but otherwise it is just going to reinforce hopping around on autopilot.

When a person really dances, they become more skilled at really dancing. The interoceptive (Sufi, Dancemeditation™) model puts us in questing, curious relationship with our body, the music, and the Divine. That is entirely different from hopping around.

Sarah said,

I’ve had days where I’ve danced for 30-40 minutes; playing around with the music and what feels good … Then I beat myself up for not having “really” practiced.

Part of the shift is letting go of beating ourselves up. For anything. This is a destructive behavior. It is a symptom of old shame and trauma. When we feel it happening, we can take long exhales and let the impulse wash out of the body. Practicing self-love and acceptance is far more valuable–and genuinely subversive ; ).

To dance well, we need confidence. Drilling and technique practice encourages us to look at ourselves with narrow, critical eyes. Really dancing, using our time to enjoy and connect to the music, the guests, our bodies, and our joy–this develops our confidence. The affirmation in the picture, “I am a Master. I am great!” is worth a lot of repetition.

There’s a difference between drilling and improv. Drilling practice makes us more precise and stylized. Quality improv practice develops musicality and intuitive response.

A classical musician trains through technique, plays scales. A folk musician plays music. That is his practice. The folk musician may be every bit the musician and every bit as skilled as the classical musician. It’s just a different system.

Dave Brubeck went to Turkey and was flabbergasted that the folk musicians were so brilliant and improvised on odd meters better than trained Western musicians. That’s what inspired him to write Take 5 (or that’s the myth, anyway). Even in Arabic music, there is the maqamat, a classical learning system of modes and scales, and there is the nagamat system, that of melodies (nagam means melody in Arabic).

What I suggest is a nagamat system: practicing dance–by dancing! (the raqsat system, if you will).

Wait, what about technique?! I roll technique into my practice. I often stop to explore a move, enjoying its path and texture in my body. I fit my movement to the music, listen for and express emotional timbres, respond intuitively, explore and enhance individual movements & vocabulary, develop grace (slow movement), strength (by using the floor), etc etc.

I also practice stagecraft and connection. I roll all of this, too, right into my practice. I “dance like someone is watching.” I challenge myself to be as open as I am in the interoceptive mode while connecting to an “audience.” I dance with my eyes open, and pull out all the performance stops, right in my own room, flirting with the walls, mirror, and the guest who exist far past those physical walls.

This practice style makes me more creative, innovative, and happy. I am always finding new ideas, new avenues, and new elements in my music. I have more freedom, better technique, and a lot more joy–both in dance and in life. Plus my musicality improves, too. This is a pretty significant win-win.

If you want to be a great dancer, it may take more than 20 minutes of practice a day. But if all you have is 20 minutes, you will become a better dancer by dancing–and developing a deep connection to your body and the music–than you ever will by drilling. It may not be the same in other dance forms. But that is how it is in this dance.

The basics of our dance are not that hard. It’s not like ballet, or even Flamenco. It’s super organic, super comfortable on the body. I mean, it’s a folk dance. There’s a learning curve, but you can get most of it in a couple of months. Hell, you can get a lot of it in an couple of hours.

–> The artistry is in the intuitive connection to complex, improvised music, in never doing it the same way twice, in the feeling, in the connection, in the joy.

You can’t drill that.

You have to dance it.

That’s what we’re doing when we practice improv.

Or at least, that’s our path.

Love,

Alia

PS Want to inspire, amaze and delight?

You might enjoy How to Create Dance Art (CDA), an online composition intensive for improvisation & choreography, coming this spring. http://CreateDanceArt.com

“Alia took the time to read my postings and reply to every one, always with helpful information and insight. I felt that she really understood the different ways people learn and work. We weren’t all the same people. I felt that I was a part of the group but that I was also lucky enough to be taking a private course with Alia.”

“The work is spaced out over a long period of time which allows for a true thinking sift to happen. It’s a lifestyle change not a diet so to speak. I would recommend this course to people who are ready to have a paradigm shift and who have an open mind.”

“it was really amazing in the ways that it helped me to make my dancer richer. Even if it was only in my mind. Because every feeling I have is somehow translated to the audience, and having so much to work with made me feel that I would never be out of ideas. I could do a hip circle 20 times, but if I emoted differently with each one, it would seem different to the audience. Mind blowing.”

There is a special early deal November27-30. Please have a look right away as it is very short term. http://CreateDanceArt.com

How to protect your dance space

Most days I get up several hours before anyone else in my family. It is often dark, now that it’s fall here in Vermont. It’s also cold. I hate getting up in the dark, and I hate the cold. I’d prefer to sleep in every morning until it is sunny and warm. But I get up. I don’t like it–but I like myself better when I do it.

I wash up, make some coffee and toast, and take my vitamins. Then I open the file of my book. And then I write. I like to put in at least an hour or 1K words. I often go more and sometimes less. (For a while I was reading every morning, but now I am focused on the writing). After I write, I put in my headphones and pick a dance song on my phone. Once I’m moving, I usually dance for my whole 20 minutes. And then I feel like I accomplished something, all day long, even if the rest of it goes completely to heck.

It’s hard, because when I feel sorry for myself, I tend to get self-indulgent. I slack on things I know are important. I eat crap food. I don’t write–or dance. Then I feel guilty (another big time-waster). Then I feel even sorrier for myself–and the cycle of Resistance continues.

It’s taken me a long time to get to this point of relative consistency. And I don’t always defend my time well. Yesterday I overslept and my Mom got up early. I just stepped back. I wasn’t happy with myself, but I am done beating myself up over the occasional slip. NGAMO, right? No Guilt And Move On.

Today I got up earlier and wrote–but I didn’t fully close the book part of my morning and formally move on to the next task in the chain, the headphones and song. So somehow I didn’t dance.

Little by little, progress comes. I narrow the focus of my intentions and determination, things get done, and they become habits. Accomplishments then become more reliable, and my skills improve, because I get consistent practice, so I feel better about myself. You get the picture, right?

It’s so seductive to let our creativity slip down the back of the sofa. We put ourselves last and swallow our frustration, turning it against ourselves. We waste our lives hating ourselves for our weakness. Hating ourselves is just another trap.

Why do we do this? Some of it is what we learned to do. Some of it is our own fear. Where does the fear come from? Often it’s left over from times we got shamed. Wherever it came form, it’s corrosive to our creativity. Art requires us to take a stand and make something–to move, to put words or ink or paint on the page.

Instead we believe the lies we tell ourselves. It’s no good, I’m no good,. It doesn’t matter. It’s too hard. I don’t care. It’s just…

How do we protect our creative spaces? Our dance habits? Our self-confidence and joy, which are so tied to our creativity?

It starts with showing up. Showing up to do the work. This is a big reason I like taking classes (besides the learning). I have a reason to show up. Someone besides me notices. They’re on my side. I started teaching so I would practice. I still do. Little by little, I grow my habits.

Every day, I learn to show up. When the Muse comes looking, I want to be there.

So do you.

Just show up.

Want some classes to help?
All of these start within the next week.
Rosa Noreen’s teaching one on arms
http://rosanoreen.com/handsandarmsintensive/

Nadira Jamal’s teaching one of developing a sustainable practice
http://www.bellydancegeek.com/practice-habit/

And I’m teaching one on Effortless Improvisation. Daily assignment, accountability, and a great community that has your back. https://aliathabit.com/effortless

Plus, you can double up and win with the Compassionate Critique Salon.

Do you crave honest, objective dance feedback?
(Wish it didn’t hurt so much?)

Announcing: The Compassionate Critique Salon!

The Compassionate Critique Salon. Honest, empowering feedback in a safe environment so dancers can develop the confidence to grow their artistry.

Plus (since one size does not fit all), you get great feedback from *three* professional dance coaches: Nadira Jamal, Rosa Noreen, and Alia Thabit.

Each coach will provide you with encouragement, observations on what to cultivate, and one idea to work on. So you feel good about what you’ve accomplished and have a manageable set of goals.

How do we sign up?
Registration opens October 25th.
Get notified the minute it opens!
http://www.bellydancegeek.com/compassionate-critique-salon/

Special treat for anyone who takes 2 or more of the above classes, too.

Small Product Lab–phew!

What an intense couple of weeks. I made it through the Gumroad ‪‎Small Product Lab Launch and met all kinds of cool creators. I feel full of ideas from being around so many. And made a new thing–Ziltastic!– in only 10 days. Thanks to everyone who supported this crazy endeavor. Here’s a snippet: https://vimeo.com/135481234.

The SPL crew voted me a People’s Choice award! This is for being a helpful member of the team. Squee! So Ziltastic is in the Honorable Mention section of the July SPL collection. Check out all the cool stuff we made–you might see something you love. https://gumroad.com/smallproductlab/creators/july2015

Then Mackay Rippey called. He interviewed me about belly dance’s potential for trauma healing. We blew through the interview and kept right on conversing for another hour. The interview will air on his Lyme Ninja Radio podcast September 13–more as we get closer. And thanks to this conversation, something wonderful came into being. Announcing…

A Belly Dance Foundation Flow series this fall. We will explore foundation belly dance movement for somatic release to refresh the body and soul so joy can flow into our lives. This will be online, with no cost–a special gift. All are welcome. More soon.

Thanks, Mackay, the Small Product Lab, and all of you for encouraging me in this journey!

I’m off to New Mexico for Dunya’s Summer Movement Monastery–camping in the high desert for Sufi dance. I’ll be back with more soon!

Lots of love,
Alia

PS People are excited about Ziltastic. This makes me so happy! I love the material that is coming through.

I just watched Part One! It changed my entire relationship with my zils. I bought two pair a few years ago and i just couldn’t handle the ringing in my ears, couldn’t see the end goal and actually disliked them (but my guilt made me store them in a really cute bag). Now I know what I own, how to keep from giving myself a headache and know that I can play them with fun, musicality and improvisation as my goal. They are out of my cute bag now! And the cat stays in the room! Thank you Alia! Ziltastic! ~Anica

“I love looking and listening to you. I love watching you, your calm, connected style. It feels like I’m right there in the same room. I can’t wait to start playing.” ~Irit

Thanks to everyone who’s taken the plunge with Ziltastic! Our group is wonderful!

Want to be part of it? There are about 15 seats left for the special coaching gift. Grab ’em while you can! Right here: http:/ziltastic.com

Ziltastic! Fast, fun finger cymbal improvisation

Love and kisses,
A