What is belly dance part III

What is belly dance? Part III

Read Part I here

Read part II here

appropiration2Of 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? (and why is that a question?)

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)

Those little voices....
Those little voices….

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 notgoing 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
Ziltastic! Fast, fun finger cymbal improvisation

Love and kisses,
A

How to choose zills the Goldilocks way

#SPLday6-7

How to choose finger cymbals the Goldilocks way

When Goldilocks discovered the three bears’ house, she tried out every bowl of porridge, every chair and every bed until she found the one that was “just right.” Choosing finger cymbals (aka zils, zills, or sagat) is the same way. Too loud, too heavy, too big, too small–it takes time to find what you like. “Just right” is different for everyone, so it’s worth sleeping around to find your perfect match.

I found my go-to finger cymbals at Rakkasah West in California. Back in the mid-90’s, we didn’t have much choice. A few teachers sold small assortments of gear, but other than that, you were out of luck. Few websites. No sound files. No Amazon. And no Google. It was a lot harder to find what you wanted. So imagine the knee-weakening affect of Saroyan’s display–full sets of every zil they made, ready to play, laid out there for sampling. Every zil. That’s dozens of sets, even more if you count every gauge plus bronze and silver–and you have to, because they each sound different.

So yeah, pig heaven. I am proud to say that I played EVERY SINGLE ONE in search of my dream zils. I wanted something medium-sized with a low tone (I hate that high-pitched ring that hangs in the air). So I played them all, and I made a choice. It was pricey, too. Good cymbals are, because they are carefully made of high quality materials–often hand-cast bell bronze or German silver.

The main things to consider in a set of finger cymbals are size, weight, and sound. There is also price, of course. Expect to spend $15-25 for a set of student-quality cymbals, and $35-70 (and up) for pro quality (vendor links at the end of the post). A set is 4 cymbals, two for each hand. In general, opt up. Good finger cymbals last practically forever, and never go out of style. Buy the best quality you can afford. You won’t regret it.

Size matters. So does weight. I have cymbals ranging from tiny Saroyan Tinkerzills to 6-inch orchestra-quality monsters. Some feel comfortable in my hand, some pinch with with every tek. Some are so heavy my arms hurt, and some are so light that no one can hear them. Size and weight go together, of course–I mean, it’s metal. The bigger the instrument, the heavier it is. But there are also different thicknesses of metal, so two sets of the same size can have different weights.

Light and heavy are different for each person–you want to find your sweet spot.  The smaller and lighter the zil, the easier it is to play–but the thinner the sound. Too big or heavy, however, and your hands will be uncomfortable and tire easily. It’s fine to start with smaller, lighter, less expensive zils, and progress towards pro-quality instruments. Many dancers practice with heavier zils, then perform wearing a lighter set, so that the performance is easier. It’s all about finding your “Just Right.”

The mother of all concerns is sound. No one wants to sound crappy. Listen a lot, and find what you like. For me, the ultimate dealbreaker is that high-pitched ring that hangs in the air long after the cymbal has sounded. Yet other folks I know love that sound. So there you go.

There are two main styles of cymbal–Egyptian and Turkish. Egyptian sagat have a wide, flat lip around the bell. Turkish style zils have a narrower, often slightly upturned lip. Each type has has a different sound (and some different playing techniques). There are also specialty folkloric cymbals from various places. What matters most is that you like what you have. That is the bottom line. You can get fancy later. For now, just buy whatever you like.

There are also two main styles of cymbal attachment–single hole or double slots.
The single hole is old-style–all zils used to be made this way. Egyptian sagat still are. So are some Zildjians and many smaller makers (LOTS of crap cymbals will have a single hole. You really do get what you pay for, so beware). The elastic goes through the hole and is secured on the other side by anything from a large knot to a button or a washer (creativity abounds). They are more challenging to play, as the connection between zil and finger is smaller, but their sound is often superior.

Slots are new. The elastic goes in one slot and out the other. Most of the big makers do double slots. They are easier to play, because they sit more firmly on the finger, but they do tend to have that ring.

So how do you find “just right”?

Ideally, you play them in person. Reading descriptions on the internet, even listening to sound files is great. Feeling those babies on your own hands, hearing them with your own ears, that is better.

However, few of us have a large retailer right down the road. So we have to get clever. Listen to the zils you hear people playing. When you hear something you like, ask the dancer what kind they are, and where s/he got them. When you go to a festival, play all the cymbals available. Try out lots of options to help your body find its “Just Right.” Don’t even ask the price unless you like the zils.

When you buy sight unseen, do your research. Ask other dancers what they like. Listen to the sound files. Both Saroyan and Turquoise have sound files or videos for every zil they sell. Call the place up and discuss what you want–ask them to pay the zils over the phone. Take your time to find what you want.

Choosing a first set of zils can feel daunting. Don’t get crazy about it. If you enjoy playing zils, you will end up with many, many more–each set unique (my student zil bag is filled with zils I got that weren’t quite what I wanted). And even though I have some great finger cymbals, I am always on the lookout for more.

Get what you like. You’re the one who’s going to play them. Pick whatever makes you happy and have a good time. What did I choose from Saroyan that day? The German silver Tutankhamen Pro. I still play them almost every show. They have some of that ring, but for almost 20 years now they are my “just right.”

That’s how it is with finger cymbals.

 

PS a couple of Vendors: Turquoise and Saroyan make quality cymbals. So does Zildjian (and they are LOUD). Yasmin Henkesh sells Egyptian sagat (and she is a love, plus she knows her stuff)

+++++

I’m deep in Gumroad’s Small Product Lab–build and launch a new product in 10 days. Ziltastic! A video CRASH Course in Finger Cymbal Improvisation is what has emerged from this process. This is a snippet from that project. I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Alia

PS here is me performing improv with finger cymbals

 

 

 

How can slow movement improve technique?

How can slow movement improve technique?

When we whip through a move or combination at speed, when we do it the easy way, we limit our progress. We might cut corners, or miss small errors, particularly in areas that are difficult or in the outer fringes of our physical abilities. The circle isn’t really circular; the curve has a divot in that area where our hip has a little hitch. The little hunch in our shoulders, the glitch in our balance as we turn goes unnoticed.

Slow movement, movement at a speed Dunya describes as “glacial,” allows us to deeply inhabit every moment of the shape we create. We engage and focus our attention at each moment, feel intimately each tiny increment. Where we might skimp at normal speed, we can anticipate hitches, see them coming, and adjust our trajectory, slowing down even further, so we slip unobstructed through the straits.

When we go slowly enough, we are less likely to trigger pain, so we can complete the arc more graciously. When we find a trouble spot, we can hold it like a pose, motionless, while our bodies sort out balance, line, reaching like flowers for the light of openness and effortless lilt.

We also build myelin, the neural manifestation of skill. Myelin (skill) is an insulating substance that wraps neural circuits and grows according to certain signals (Coyle). And one of those signals is slowing things down. We learn faster and improve more quickly by slowing down. Myelin reinforces the neural pathways that we use—the definition of skills development. So whatever we do, that’s what gets reinforced. If we skimp, that’s what gets reinforced. If we make beautiful, elegant arcs, that’s what gets reinforced.

Breaking things into small chunks and practicing them out of sequence also builds myelin. Taking small, disconnected chunks of technique, feeling them deeply, inhabiting them, slowing them down, making them into a series of elegant poses, that reinforces those neural pathways. Doing the power poses regularly reinforces those neural pathways. And we need those certain signals. Doing things mindlessly doesn’t get us there. We need to be in the sweet spot at the edge of our abilities.

The brilliant thing about this practice is that we are always at the edges of our ability. We are always searching, discovering, intent, focused, spreading our feelers out from every inch of our consciousness. So don’t worry if this is hard. Hard means you are learning. It means you are building myelin. We focus now so we can let go later. We build skills now so that on stage, they will be there for us. Through effort, we attain effortlessness.

Love,

Alia

How to Fall Off the Stage (and how to get back up)

Vegas, baby

Yep, I fell off the stage at The Las Vegas Belly Dance Intensive.

I stepped back one time too many–and down I went. I knew it wasn’t too far, so I grabbed the curtains-and they went right down with me. It was an epic fail.

So what did I do? 

I jumped back up on the stage–laughing. “That’s going to look great on the video,” I said, and went on with my show.

Yes, I was lucky. It was only about 3 feet. I had already been back there, so I knew where I was going. It was Thursday night, so the audience was minimal. Yes, I could have asked them to stop the music. I could have started over. I didn’t feel like it. I just kept going.

And people loved it. Because I laughed and kept going.

And that was Vegas. Intense.

I had never been there before. I had never even been in a hotel as big, cheesy, or loud as the Flamingo. The line to check in was WAY over 50 people–and this was a Wednesday. It took 40 minutes. The lobby is a cross between an large airport shopping mall and a casino. Oh, wait–it IS a casino! Yes, slot machines clatter and jangle every moment.  The Strip is like Times Square on crack with slot machines. Every possible way of squeezing more money out of the marks is in overdrive. A coffee in the lobby costs $3. A banana is $2.75. For the first few days, I was in shock. I did not like Vegas. Not one bit.

Then I started to get the hang of it. I laughed and kept going.  I got to hang out with old friends–Nadira Jamal, Rosa Noreen, and Dhyanis among others. I got to see a show–Nadira and I went to see Cirque du Soleil. I got to meet cool people I know from FB–Treasure Marshall, Mahin from DBQ, and Ustadza Azra. My class went well and everyone was happy. I took some wonderful classes, in particular Jill Parker’s Dancing Warrior. And I saw some performances that totally, completely blew me away. Silvia Salamanca’s triple sword, a virtuosic display of excellence, Helena Vlahos’s gracious radiance, and the best thing I just about ever saw in my life, Nicole McLaren’s Sufi whirling piece–which garnered a standing ovation.

And everyone associated with the Intensive is adorable. Samira Tu’Ala is a doll. Now I know why everyone loves this event.

Overall, it was a helluva good time.

 

(And the fountains at the Bellagio are pretty cool, too.)

Recommended.

thumbsup

 

 

Got Jitters? (and how to cure them–quickly!)

Getting on stage is always a thrill–but sometimes it’s a bit scary, too. Whether as dancers, public speakers, or just getting up to recite nursery rhymes for friends, some days can be harder than others.

Whether you have stage fright, some nerves, or just want to go into the performance mindspace, here some things to help.

  • Rescue Remedy: This is Elena Lentini’s go-to solution for any kind of pre-show anxiousness. It’s flower essences, very gentle. Every health food store and a lot of drug stores carry it. Try it in advance first, though, just so as not to be surprised.
  • Dunya says, Breathe. Slow down: Inhale to the count of 4, exhale to the count of 8. It won’t take many breaths before you feel calm and centered.
  • Put one hand to your forehead and one to your chest. Sit quietly and feel the energy. After a while, change the hand from your forehead to your belly. Just breathe and feel the energy connection.
  • Run in place. Breathe in time with your running. Exhale with each step.
  • Tap with your hands all over your body to ground in the present moment.
  • Remember what you are here for. Alli R said, “Today my husband is having one of his MS flare ups (he is already in a wheelchair) and I was saying, “I wish I could find something helpful to feed you, to do for you.” He replied, “Well, you can do your dance practicing, so I have something to watch, ‘cus I enjoy that.” I have been drilling and rehearsing next to his chair daily (while I thought he was watching TV) and I skipped today because I was feeling down because HE was feeling ill. He has been a huge inspiration for my dance already, but man… Next time you need a reason to push you to dance, think about dancing for those who can’t!”

This is the gift we bring to every audience. This is the level of love that underpins our performances. Remember, every time that you  go out to dance is a gift to the world. This is the light you shine into the darkness. The right people will be there, and they will see it. It will be a beacon to them.

 

 

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