What is belly dance part III

What is belly dance? Part III

Of course, there are specific folkloric dances that have nothing to do with belly dance—no one is arguing about that. But there are others that have been adopted. They are not belly dance as such (Sa’idi stick dance, for example, or Turkish Romani dance), but they are here to stay in our repertoire. So “belly dance,” (a made-up name to begin with), is already inclusive of many fusion elements. Then there are the various forms of “Tribal” dance, from Jamila Salimpour’s Bal Anat through tribal fusion, a host of ethnic and other fusions, and all the theatrical approaches. It’s a mishmash. What do we do with all of these? What do we call them?

I am loathe to kick anyone off the belly dance bus. I have concerns about some things, and will explore them as we go along, never fear. But as we come to understand the soul of the dance, misconceptions fall away. There are qualities of the dance that underlie everything else, and these are where we want to put our focus. The rest is window dressing.

To me, the vital elements of the dance are

improvisation to improvised (preferably live) music
the foundation movement vocabulary, with micro-movement
an inseparable connection Oriental music and its the values and qualities, including the importance of the feeling in the moment.

I will return to these elements often. This dance is not only as an ancient, beautiful art form. It also has healing, spiritual properties, and is a legitimate mind-body practice that equals yoga, tai-chi, and sitting meditation in its effectiveness and power. Really? Yes.

Sparkly little belly dance has immense power. People are drawn to it because they sense this, though they may not know how to access it. Once they come to a class, they are usually taught a sterilized version: stylized, choreographed, counted, body-control to recorded music. This is not the dance they were looking for. But it is all they see, so okay. Well, it’s not okay with me. I am here to explode this view of the dance. I am here to shine a light on the magic and mystery of our dance.

We are drawn to this dance because we feel something from it. It is real. It is there. The dance waits for you, a hidden seed trembling with life, ready to blossom in your heart and soul. It is beautiful and free and loving–and so are you.

Part IV coming next week…

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.

What is Belly Dance II

Last time, we looked at belly dance in the wild, as a natural culturally-formed expression of the music. This week, let’s look at it a bit further afield. We closed last week with,

You would think “what is belly dance” would be pretty obvious—you see the people dancing, the hip drops, shimmies, and undulations—and there it is. But you would be wrong about that.

The definition of belly dance is surprisingly contentious. Read Part I here

Let’s remember belly dance is a made up term. It was the most salacious possible English translation of the French term “danse du ventre” (dance of the stomach). The Danse du Ventre was a specialty dance done by Algerian Ouled Nil dancers in which they used their stomach muscles to move a silver chain belt belt up and down the abdomen. Is that belly dance? What is belly dance as we have come to know it?

Belly dance, in its home countries, is literally the dance without a name (Tamalyn Dallal is currently making a film with this title. I can’t wait!). It is so ubiquitous that it in Arabic it is just called “dance,” unlike most of the other folk dances which have specific names. It is the homestyle dance of millions of women (and men) in Cairo, Egypt, and many more millions in many places around the globe. It is a dance which elicits passionate attachment.

Dr. Najwa Adra wrote an excellent article, “Belly Dance: an Urban Folk Genre.” She opens her (multi-page) description with, “Traditional belly dance is an improvised genre, led my music that may also be improvised.” She goes on to describe the isolations, shimmies, modest footwork and so forth. You can read her excellent article in the anthology, “Orientalism, Transnationalism, and Harem Fantasy,” or on Dr. Adra’s website, http://NajwaAdra.com.

Adra observes is that the dance’s function is primarily that of play. It is done for fun. Since most of the millions (possibly billions) of people (mostly women) who belly dance are not professional and never plan to be, this takes on a lot of importance. In the west, the dance has been pointed relentlessly in the direction of performance, specifically at the pretty girl in the costume. We will take a hard look at the ramifications of this perspective in the book, but for now, let’s go on.

If it is a folk dance, why do some folks exclude raqs baladi (the folk form), from belly dance? Yes, there are many who see belly dance as only the stage version of the dance, aka raqs sharqi. (I don’t care for this term because it is Arabic, and so excludes Turkish Oryantal Dans as well as Greek tsiftetelli and stage styles). Usually the same people also exclude tribal, fusions, and so forth. Many exclude veil, too, and a host of movements that have become part of the dance over the last 100 or so years.

Many things were not traditional a hundred years ago, but they are now–some for better and some for worse. So let’s look further. If you dance to Abdel Wahab, who brought in non-traditional instruments, are you not belly dancing, because those instruments represent experimental fusion? More importantly, are you not belly dancing because Abdel Wahab had the musicians learn set pieces? Improvisation, heterophony and playing from the heart are the hallmarks of Oriental music (I use this term to include all the areas of this music and dance not just the Arabic). If Wahab had his orchestra play the music as written, is it authentic? You could easily say no.

What is a belly dancer to do?
Part III is here

An excerpt from the upcoming book, Midnight at the Crossroads: Has belly dance sold its soul?

What is belly dance? (and why is that a question?)

Back in the early 70’s, when I was a baby dancer, I worked as a figure model for art classes, mostly at the Brooklyn Museum art school (sadly, long gone), and at Pratt Institute. There was one prof at Pratt whom I liked a lot, and I worked often for his classes. In addition to regular still poses, each semester we ran through a sequence of sessions for his Illustration class as he taught them to draw objects in motion. For the capstone of the series, I brought my dance gear to class, put on belly dance music, and danced in full costume while the class frantically sketched. It was a lot of fun.

One day during this class, a dark-haired student burst into the room. He took in the scene–the madly sketching students, the glittery dancer, the white-haired, bearded prof–and demanded, “Who is playing this music?”
I am, I said.
“This is John Berberian!” he said.
Um, yeah. Yes, it is.

I wondered if he were going to yell at me for dancing to this music. Instead, it turned out the kid was Armenian (as is John Berberian). He told me John was about to perform at an upcoming Armenian church supper. The kid eagerly invited me to the supper, because anyone who loved John Berberian was family. I loved John Berberian, so of course I went. My mother, who had introduced me to John’s music, also loved him–so off we went.

The church was packed, and food was everywhere (it was just like the Arabic food I was used to, and it was delish). My Mom and I were both kind of shy, but the kid from school soon saw us, thanked us for coming, and found us seats. Everyone made us feel welcome, even though we didn’t know anyone. My Mom and I sat in a happy daze with the food and the swirl of activity all around us. Soon it was time for the concert. Or so I thought.

When Berberian and his band took the stage—everyone jumped up to dance. The floor was awash with ecstatic people of every age and size boogieing down in in every way, shape, and form. As I watched, it slowly dawned on me—these people were all belly dancing!

Now, I am Levantine on my father’s side, but no one in my family danced. I had already been taking belly dance classes with Ibrahim Farrah, Jajouka, and Elena Lentini for a couple of years. I could dance—but I had never seen belly dance “in the wild,” so to speak. These folks danced alone, in groups, as couples—and all the things I had learned in class were their natural expressions of the music: hip drops, shimmies, undulations—the works. It was belly dance in its natural environment. It was a revelation.

I didn’t dance that night—I just watched (I also bought John’s new album, which he autographed—I still have it ; ). But I learned a lot—and I never forgot.

You would think “what is belly dance” would be pretty obvious—you see the people dancing, the hip drops and undulations—and there it is. But you would be wrong about that.

The definition of belly dance is surprisingly contentious. In our next post, we’ll take a look at the history of the term, and what it has come to define.

An excerpt from the upcoming book, Midnight at the Crossroads: Has belly dance sold its soul?

Read part II here

Why we dance—the secret surprise (and how to find it)

You know those little voices that always rag on us to just quit and be done with it? That we will never amount to anything? What does that even mean? Like we will not be world-class famous dancers with tons of money and fame? Why is that the benchmark of success in our dance?

Few of us dance solely for adulation or money. It’s awesome that dance gives us those things, but the dance is deeper than this. It’s the connection to the music we crave—the sense of oneness that we value. Yet all the emphasis is on the pretty girl on stage in a costume.

Most people who do this dance do not teach or perform. They dance with friends at home or at parties. Why would they do that? Dance around the house and play music, women of all ages. A dance of joy. What does that really mean?

This dance has power. We know this. And not all of it in the venue of performance. That in some ways is the smallest of it attributes. Because it is a dance of joy, that is why its performances have power—they bring joy, both to viewers and dancers. That is also why it is so popular offstage as well. Doing or viewing this dance lifts one’s mood. Joy is there for all of us.

I sometimes hear disdain for the “hobbyists.” You know, the ones who take classes, fill workshops, and pay the bills The ones with relatively normal lives who just want to dance and have fun. Because we all should be serious dancers who work hard.

Well, surprise. Maybe the hobbyists have the right idea. I’m all for performance. I am a performer. I love it. Many of us do. I love teaching. I’m good at it. So I get it. I’m not suggesting anyone stop. People feel called to open studios, develop professional companies, dance at birthday parties; I say YES to all of it. But this dance is a folk dance, done by folks, in their homes. And that is a legitimate, honorable relationship with the dance.

What if we stop beating ourselves up for not “going anywhere” with our dance? Think of all the people who do yoga, or tai chi. They don’t look to be performers. Few even look to be teachers. Most of them just go to class, a workshop, a retreat. The activity is part of their life. It gives them physical and emotional benefits. Maybe a community. And they enjoy it.

The same with dance.

The physical interaction with the music is pleasurable in and of itself. And the more in sync we get the better and more beautiful and delicious it feels. Think how lovely our 20 minutes could be if we focused on the sensuality of the moves and their relationship with the music. Right there is a good reason for pursuing mastery. For the pleasure of the activity all by itself. On our own or with friends.

That sounds radical, doesn’t it? Most of us don’t move for the enjoyment of it. We practice to get better. We work. What if we enjoyed ourselves instead?

Something to think about…

Love,

Alia

PS With the encouragement of my friend Mackay Rippey, of Lyme Ninja Radio, I’ll teach a free 4-week web series this fall called Belly Dance Foundation Flow–an exploration of belly dance movement for healing and joy. It will be a lovely, rich experience.

Update: Mackay and I recorded an interview for his podcast;; the web series followed. It is all archived–you can get the recordings here. This is a totally free series. All are welcome.

Music: Fun African mix: https://soundcloud.com/snyk-dk/ud-og-samle-svampe-i-afrika

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

Small Product Lab Days 3-4

Gumroad Small Product Lab, Days 3-4

I’ve been doing the Gumroad Small Product Lab 10-Day Challenge (https://gumroad.com/smallproductlab), where folks commit to making and launching a new product—be it a tutorial, t-shirt, or toolkit–in only 10 days! Here’s how it’s been going.
Day 1 we had to pick a thing to make. I was torn between 3 things,

An e-book on How to Critique
A video class on How to Accompany yourself on finger cymbals
A process overview of How to design an online dance course.

I asked a lot of people in my group and on Facebook what to do, and got great suggestions. everyone voted for zils and critique. But I wanted to to e-course design.

So by Day 2, I was all set to do– online class design! Per our assignment, I made an elaborate to-do plan. The next day (Day 3), I was to make it a sales page. But somehow I couldn’t see what it would look like. I decided to sleep on it.

The next morning, Day 3, I woke up and had a coffee. Then, much to my surprise, I designed a finger cymbal class. I took a picture of some zils and made a page for the class. Boom! I guess I am making a zil tutorial!

Here it is: Ziltastic! A video CRASH Course in Finger Cymbal Improvisation
Check it out!

https://gumroad.com/l/ziltastic

Cool, huh?

But there is so much more to this!

I have been so impressed by all the folks doing this challenge.

Hundreds of us are in this Facebook group, posting ideas, giving feedback, frantically revising and editing. It’s really something. Being involved in a creative group project opens up a lot of energy. I’ve had so many ideas, and I am not the only one. There such incredible variety I can’t even list them. Check my FB timeline for a series of shares of people’s projects: https://www.facebook.com/aliathabit

Group members have battled Resistance, time sucks, black holes, and all manner of trips and traps to keep us from completing our projects. But we are not alone! In addition to our group, we have some mentors to help us along–Nathan Barry, Jeff Goins, and Barrett Brooks; plus the winner of the first SPL, DJ Coffman; and runner up Christopher Hawkins. Yeah, all men. But out trusty team leader is a gal, Emmiliese von Clemm. It’s only been 4 days and we are coming together as one creative hive mind.

Yes, there are some prizes, but for most of the us, the real prize will be this reckless endeavor–making and launching a Brave New Thing in only 10 days.

I so recommend this process. Please check it out: https://gumroad.com/smallproductlab

Much love,

Alia

PS Saturday, July 25, 2015, 7 p.m.
She Who Walks in The Moonlight
This was a great show–here’s a great picture of me as Nyx, Greek goddess of the night (Thanks to Peter Paradise Michaels!)

And here’s my performance

What should I make?

What should I make?

I just joined Gumroad’s Small Product Lab (https://gumroad.com/smallproductlab). I’ll make a new thing in 10 days, from 7/27-10/5. Something digital–a small book, tutorial, tool, video, or art thing, like a coloring book.

What should I make? What would you like to have?

Love,
Alia

Dunya’s Opening Sequence

Dunya McPherson developed Dancemeditation™, upon which our 90 Days practice is based, from Sufi dance, which has the same traditional movement vocabulary as belly dance. Here’s how she describes Dancemeditation™ :

Dancemeditation™ is a unique, integrated, embodied meditation system for self-discovery, healing, & evolution. Through the cultivation of embodied awareness and present-ness, we explore relationships between self-&-other, self-&-cosmos, self-with-Self, and self-to-the Divine Eternal, and ultimately dissolve relationship into non-duality, into One-ness. Dancemeditation™ links you to the deepest roots of human quest for spiritual understanding and Truth.

Dancemeditation™ proposes that your body is spiritual intelligence. Training focuses on listening to the body with curiosity and respect. The practices develop trust and adeptness in this receptive process and can be practiced alone or with others.

Dancemeditation™ is Sufi dance enriched by Dunya’s incisive, deeply artistic winnowing of myriad potential connections. She weaves elements from poetry to science into a deceptively simple yet deeply complex system. And it’s real. Sufi dance, ancient pathway to the Divine, has the same movement vocabulary. It is the proof of our dance’s spirit core that we all feel. And Dunya’s the real deal—with decades of experience and experimentation, she is a Master. She teaches with silence more than most do with words.

You’ve seen a bit of Opening Sequence in the trailer. Dunya’s voiceover instruction is clear and soothing. If you’d like a gentle way into your daily practice, Opening Sequence will get you there (and hey, it’s tax-deductible).

Opening Sequence, 8 mins, full routine with voiceover instruction. $5.35

[wp_eStore_buy_now_button id=13]

(Those interested in the full DVD (with the wonderful Sand Tracings material), or any of Dunya’s other excellent videos, online classes, etc, check out http://www.dancemeditation.org/product-category/dvds/).

Love,
Alia

Why Agriculturists Don’t Improvise

Why Agriculturists Don’t Improvise (and Hunter-Gatherers do)

I discovered Hunter-Gatherers in a college anthropology class. Finally, everything made sense. Hunter gatherers don’t seek to control their environment–they map it. They know where and when the best mushrooms grow–just like I knew the roll of tape was on the floor behind the bathroom door. And they don’t dig up those mushrooms and plant them outside the hovel, either. Just like I never bothered picking up the tape and putting it away. I knew where it was.

In stark contrast are the Agriculturists. Their prime motivation is control of their environment and reduction of risk. Those people would dig up every single mushroom and plant it in their own yard. They collect seeds and hoard them for the spring. They do everything the same way every time, because one slip and their crops might fail. Their world could be lost. So they are careful.

While the agriculturists hoard and plan, hunter gatherers hold feasts and eat up everything in sight. More food will turn up sooner or later. If it doesn’t, well, they will be hungry and put a lot more effort into finding food. It is a boom and bust cycle, one that capitalizes on the seasons, the earth’s bounty, and the vagaries of chance.

In a hunter-gatherer society, risk has value. Boldness, experimentation, and innovation are survival skills.

Agriculturists, however, hate risk. They hate change. They hate mess. They color inside the lines. They walk out on stage with an entire routine scotch-taped to the inside of their forehead.

The ags have taken over the world. They have amassed its riches. They have rejected and oppressed everyone who is different from them, or used those folks to advance their own ends. War is not fought by the old–they send the young to do that for them. They send the adventurers out on adventures, and then rake in the cash when one hits it good. Sure they lose sometimes, but they are calculated risks. And that’s the important difference.

In the field of oriental dance, the ags have come calling big time. They have colonized my beloved dance form with their choreographies, group dances, naming, and owning. I reject all that.

I understand the allure. It makes things easier, it is fun, yadda yadda. But there is a dark side. It destroys the creativity and agency of the student. It values copying over feeling, and perpetuates insecurity, shame, and hierarchy. It is “Strictly Ballroom” all over again.

I don’t stand for any of it.

I stand for creativity and self-expression grounded in traditional oriental dance values. I stand for becoming our true selves in dance and in life. I stand for letting go of limiting beliefs, trauma, and shame and entering into the fullness of our potential.

And there is hope.
Many of the Agiculturist traits are the result of how we are raised. Most people aren’t raised to be artists. They are not raised to trust that everything will work out. To just show up. To say YES.

It’s scary to let go, to seize the moment when you have to double check every decision of your life.

It is a leap of faith to leave the safety net and take the risk of improvisation.

It may be hard at first. Learning can feel uncomfortable and scary. But, but, but–when you hang in there and have faith, when you embrace the challenge, when you let yourself feel the wonder of the wind in your hair…

You can do it.

You can fly.

Fly with me .