Wandering- on Facebook- super great link about dancing!! Must see

The best video I've ever seen about dance!!

Watch it,
Then dance.

Or dance,
then watch it

Or watch it while you
Dance

or just dance!!!

Wandering NYC: LIttle Trees and the Density of Things

An a Capella group

steps over boots and

around heavy coats

to sing doo wop

on the C train, at 34th Street.

The doors open at 42^nd Street,

There are beats of African drums

Coming from the platform,

Which get quieter as the door closes.

A man reading Bible verses

Has gotten on there.

The passengers

keep their heads down

do not speak,

Nor look at him.

At 59^th, I get off.

Peaceful sounds of

Native American flute

Fill the Time Warner Center

I hear it on the escalator

Down to Whole Foods.

It fades away to

Folk pop mix

In the market,

Bob Dylan’s nasal raspy twang

In the background as

As I eat oatmeal

And drink organic coffee

There is less sidewalk                                        

In this season,

 From 59^th to 74^th,

I walk through                                                         

Pop-up forests of

Christmas Trees

Piney scent

Mixes with aromas of roasted nuts,

And Freshly fried Falafel,

A siren cuts through

The after rush hour

Traffic on icy Broadway morning.

The little trees

Draw me in.

No more than three feet high,

These ones that fit in tiny

Spaces in

Manhattan places

Mini forests sit among the Giants

“Hello, little ones”, I think.

“I have had been intimate

With a few of your cousins,”

Back when I lived on E. 85^th Street.

I brought them up to my 6^th floor studio

Barely reaching  window,                                 

Facing south.

Flashing mini- lights, stars

And angels sat on gentle tiny branches

I do not linger,

In those street forests.

Only memories

Linger

I have come to dance,

And so I do

Soft gentle indie

Music,

Piano

And lilting, voice,

for jazz class.

There is sadness in the voice.

Soft slippers and bare feet

Make brushing sounds on

Polished surfaces

But downstairs,

the room filled with tappers

Stomp, slap, and flap

In unison

Metal on wood,

Percussive,

Drumming with our feet

Deep bass guitar

Plays jazz solo,

Our rhythms syncopate

With it

And together we become

the

Music

Then, two flights down

with clomping boots on

ancient steps

Cross the street and                               

back to screeching

Subway.

On the #1 at 72^nd Street

A man with covered standing bass

waits,

then

gets off at 66^th,

Lincoln Center.

I imagine his deep rich sound

As he plays in an orchestra there

or maybe a jazz band.

While I wait at 59^th Street

For the C

I hear, I think, tapping.

Could it be?

Yes, a man

Has set up planks of wood

Where he does cramp roll turns

And maxi fours

With gusto.

At Penn Station,

34th Street

There is soulful blues

And haunting electric guitar

A few notes of each,

Then out to the street,

Where heading west,

The city noises cars, and horns

And underlying din

Begin to wane

By 10^th Ave

There is peace

Peaceful city

How strange

There is stillness

Out here in the western edge

Between 11^th and 12^th,

Almost to the river

Where there is lots of sky

Silence,

While I wait for the bus

To take me home.

A Wanderer's Prayer

A prayer for this wanderer…

To The Universe

Wherever I find my feet,

Let them connect to the ground

So I know where I am standing

Let my eyes find beauty around me,

Even when there does not appear to be any.

Let my mind be open to new experiences.

And view old experiences from new perspectives

Let me honor and respect other cultures, other countries, and other customs

Let me always remember that I am a guest wherever I go

Let me be kind.

Let me be open to new friendships along the way,

But also be smart and safe on my journeys.

Let me make wise choices

Or learn from the ones not so wise.

Let me learn the language of another country

And try a new food, 

Let me dance.

Let me dance 

Wherever I go

Whenever I can

Let me learn a new dance or a new step,

Or practice and perfect one that I know

Let me find new partners and teachers along the way

And take from them many lessons

Let me give

Let me teach

Let me share my gifts 

Let me love

Let me not take myself too seriously.

Let me play

Let me laugh

Let me laugh at my mistakes, my humanity

And the humanity of others

And marvel in the perfection of our imperfection

Wandering And Dancing, NYC

Yesterday I did a little dancing at Steps on Broadway on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.

 The first time I went there the entrance eluded me. I thought I was going crazy.

With Fairway‘s fruits and vegetables filling up most of the block. it is not surprising.  Marked with 2121, but set back a little, it appears to be a delivery entrance, but it’s not. 

Take the elevator or walk to the third floor and enter Dance Heaven.

Immediately, there is energy, movement, and music.  Dancers in all stages of dress and undress sprawl in  hallways, stretching limbs, waiting for classes to begin or recovering from ones just completed.

I am right at home in the dance studio with its hardwood floors and smooth surfaces,  mirrors, and ballet barres .

Dancing since the age of 8, I have never stopped. Styles, steps, and rhythms have changed, but my love for the dance has deepened over the years.

Less technical, I have become more expressive, sacrificing the big fancy move for the emotion.

With multiple classes on two levels, starting at 10 AM and going into the evening, 7 days a week, there are always too many choices at Steps. On any given day there might be a dozen or more each of tap, and ballet, in addition to various other tempting choices like contemporary, jazz, hip hop, and theater dance.

To maximize my infrequent NYC dance days,  I take two classes back to back. Today it’s  an Advanced Beginner Contemporary Jazz class followed by Advanced Beginner Tap.

Tap is one of my main interests these days. As I kid I took classes, then returned to the dance some years ago when I was a teacher directing and choreographing my school’s production of “42^nd Street.”

Amazingly, 20 years later, it is all coming back to me.

\

 The jazz class was decent but uninspiring.  About 3 times as old as many of the students, I was fine in the warm up, which lasted a full hour. The choreography was okay until we started to go down on the floor and that’s when I took my leave to get ready for the tap class, the main event.

I like to be inspired.

With a more diverse population, tap was way more exciting. Gotta give  cudos to the “senior” member of the class, pushing 90, who, wearing her “Keep on Moving” tee shirt, held her own. I want to be her when I’m in my 80’s!!

Inspiring us with great jazz and challenging rhythms, instructor and performer Lynne Schwab sees and hears all mistakes and cares enough to take time to help students improve.

I love a good teacher.

Full of endorphins, I hopped on the subway at 72^nd Street for the first leg of my journey back to the Bolt which brought me home to Philly. While waiting for my next connection at 59th Street, I happen upon this tapper. Sweet!

There is always more dancing!

Wandering-Philly "The Lie I Sometimes Tell"

There is a lie that I sometimes tell.

 I told it last night.

I had wandered over the Walnut Street Bridge, to the World Cafe, for my favorite Monday night jazz jam and happy hour.

I never get tired of the view from the bridge, one of the most beautiful places in the city if you like lights, and I do. 

 I was a little disappointed when I found out that the jazz was cancelled. But  the monthly Story Slam would begin a little later, so I settled in with some red wine and caught up with my fav bartender, Robin.

The theme for this month’s story competition was “Liar Liar.”  I told my lie, not as a story, but just in conversation at the bar, while contestants were entertaining us with their escapades.

While waiting for the start of the event, I chatted with one of the organizers. He invited me to be one of the three judges for the night, to which I agreed.

And I could judge right from my seat at the bar, just shouting out my scores, when requested. Perfect.

So that’s where I told the lie, to a complete stranger.

“How many children do you have?”

It is seems a simple question.

I said “One”

The truth is I have two children. One here in Philly and one on the Other Side., which is what I tell you once I get to know you better or if I think there’s a chance that I will see you again. I lost Lisa in a car accident 13 years ago when she was almost 19.

And because that is way too much information for a stranger trying to be entertained at a lively event, I lied.

I lied to the person next to me, while I was judging stories about lies. The irony was clear. I tell this lie to keep things simple. After all these years, it is still not easy. 

But Story Slam was great with lots of laughter and a truly outstanding winner! I had fun judging, and for the most part, we three judges were close in our evaluations. I got booed once for giving a low score on the final contestant. 

I took it like a woman!

I handed in my score card and had a peaceful walk home back over the bridge.

NYC Wandering-To Cronut or Not?

Dark chocolate, champagne, and gold dust. These are the seasonal and festive ingredients for December’s “Cronut.”

I had never heard of the “Cronut” and maybe you haven’t either.  But judging from the size of the line in front of this little unassuming bakery in SoHo, NYC, this “little slice of heaven” must be worth the wait.

It is not strange to see lines in NYC: New Yorkers are great at waiting in lines for busses, museums, and movies, but Saturday mornings in SoHO are usually quiet, stores and galleries opening around 11AM.

I hopped off the Bolt Bus from Philly on a bland corner of Sixth Ave. in TriBeCa. Later I’d be traveling to Macy’s Downtown Brooklyn for my face-painting job, but now, it was time to explore.

I meandered meditatively on mostly silent brick-lined streets, a few merchants setting up their wares in front of cast iron buildings. Later, holiday shoppers would fill up these narrow streets.

And then I saw the line.

So, of course, I got on the end

And that’s where I got my introduction to the “Cronut,” described as a “croissant-doughnut hybrid, ” which takes almost three days for full preparation.  Pastry chef Dominique Ansel started selling his trademarked yummy treat in May 2013, with a monthly flavor. For the opening months they had rose vanilla, lemon maple, and blackberry lime.

But for December, they brought in the chocolate (66% dark), the champagne, and the gold dust.

Which explains why this line was still going strong on a Saturday morning just before 10AM.  The line begins more than two hours before the bakery’s scheduled opening 8AM M-F, 9AM Sun) and there is no indication that this craze or faze or obsession is slowing down.

Maybe these pastries are just darn delicious.  At $5.00 each (plus tax), they must be.

But there were rules: rules about the line and rules about how to eat them, all neatly displayed on a sign at the front of the line. I had never seen so many rules for a bakery.  I was reminded of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. Now, I really wanted to try one. The suspense was profound. And I had become part of a group, a happening, a movement!!

I could taste the chocolate swirling around on my tongue, the champagne warming me instantly.

While I was chatting with my line mates, my new life long friends, someone from the shop came out to make the dreaded announcement that they’d soon be running out of the coveted product for probably the last half of the line. There were groans of disappointment, including my own, when I realized I wouldn’t have a chance to sample this delight that day.

At last count there are 22 more days in December- that means 22 more days to attempt to fill my mouth with this heavenly concoction… that’s until the new flavor for January is unveiled. What could it be?? I’ll keep you posted.

Dominique Ansel Bakery

189 Spring Street

212-219-2773

http://dominiqueansel.com/