In the last chapter, I discussed how dancing solo is easier and more to my style. Sadly, the romani way is to travel in packs together, but it does not seem as though I will be able to do that. Not because I do not wish too, but because there are no packs to travel with other than my immediate kumpania, who I love. But this does not help me with dance.
Yes, I have had time to think of this over the ridiculous holiday that was yesterday. The Holiday of red and hearts and flowers. A happy time no doubt for someone who has a special person to share it with. I am not begging for a man, however, I simply stating what nearly every person is thinking on this White Day.
When dancing alone (mostly raqs sharqi for me) I find myself free and able to do whatever I want. If I want to dance fast, I do. If I want to move slowly and sensually I do. I so adore ballroom dance, but that requires something I do not have; a partner. Though this is the main point, let me elaborate on another similar subject for a moment.
Dance comes from many traditions and lifestyles. I have spoken in brief about the lifestyles I lead: gothic, romani, and lady-like manners. All of these aid in creating a better me. I know more about ballroom dance than the average person because I studied it for almost 5 years. So hear me when I say what I saw at Louis’ Dance Studio that night was appalling. First, all of the Swingsters are ugly men who, and my best friend agreed with me, are only swing dancing because it’s the only way to touch a pretty girl. Yes, they are very talented but I have to wonder why, in a world of American opportunity they chose to be dancers.
So that’s point one. Secondly, the music they mostly dance to is what they call East Caoast, but really is simply rock music. Excuse my vulgarity here, but they freakin danced to that “boots with fur” song! That is not ball room music. That is my second point; they have lost the true meaning and soul behind that dance. It is a dance of elegance and passion, not sluttyness and lust. But that is all that dance has turned into these days. It is lust. Ballroom used to be a dance of respect between a man and woman. The man would lead and the woman was brave enough to let him lead and he took her on an adventure. It was an allegory for life. It still is, but all modern standards though. It had just evolved into something grotesque. Sex, lust, and dirt passion.
Belly dance has met with these people as well and it will take many of us purist dancers to bring it back to the light. Like ballroom is about a journey between a man and a woman, belly dance can be that as well, or simply a celebration of the voluptuous woman. A praise for the goddess in us all. It is not bawdy and sexual, it is beautiful and sensual. It is pure. It is feminine. We, as female dancers must never dance before an all male audience and we must offer ourselves as something to be bought; no sex for sale. We are strong, beautiful, independent women, who do not yet have a man to take us on our journeys. And that may never be your future. Or maybe you are a belly dancer and you have one man who you love for whom you can dance. Stick to that man and love him with all of your strong feminine passion.
All of my other posts seem ridiculous compared to this one. I am still trying to figure out what this blog is for. So if you are reading, then thank you.
Until the dust settles from your journey, may O’Dell bless you and keep you.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Chapter Five: Dancing Solo
Aysu was standing in the back of the room like she had years ago. The dance studio was a live with music, flashing lights and the beat of the East Coast Swing was familiar and it called to her muscle’s memory. Elhira had asked her to come and dance. It had been years since Aysu stood in the room, the large dance floor lined with mirrors was so familiar. But it wasn’t the same without her brothers there. Once, she and her older brothers had come here every weekend and they were good dancers. She danced for about four years in this style. She had once been good.
But now, here she stood not even remembering the basic step. “Once on the floor, I’ll remember,” she told her best friend Elhira. “Muscles have memory, you know.” She had been so excited about coming and dancing all night and now here she was. No one to dance with. No one good, any way. So she went and began to dance the familiar steps with one of Elhira’s friends. He was just fine. He wasn’t amazingly good, but he knew some stuff.
After almost an hour of beating about the room and bordly dancing with Elhira’s friend,s he stood back and watched, remembering the nights she had stood just like this. Only never for this long. She had three brothers to dance with and now they had all moved on. She was bored, longed to dance like times of old and had no one to do it with.
Finally, she spotted a boy from her acting class who had been something of a stalker a year ago. But she was desperate. She knew he was a great dancer…and so did he. She asked him to dance and they did. It was amazing. He was not attractive at all, but his movements were elaborate and strong; he knew what he was doing and knew that she could follow along. It was like old times as she flew across the dance floor, her arms twisting and her legs stylishly bending and kicking. Her body came a love again.
But it was too short lived. The song ended and she was back to standing and watching. It was like being her old 14 to 18 year old self again’ moody, depressed and hanging back. It was awful. Then Anika, her sister, came up and said, “Let’s go out and belly dance! No one is asking me to dance.”
“Sure,” Aysu thought. “You’ve dance more than me, skinny thing.”
Aysu really did love her sister, but after battling her anorexia for 3 or more years had made Anika something of a given enemy. She was thin and fragile but insisted on dieting all the time and working out. Belly dancing was one way she did this and that angered Aysu.
“Fine,” Aysu said outloud. “But only for a few seconds.” She really didn’t feel like showing her raqs sharqi to hand full of West Coasters on the dance floor. But that didn’t last. Aysu and Anika hit the floor and didn’t stop undulating and swimming through the air until the song ended.
Aysu came off the floor thinking, “This is why I belly dance. I can do it alone.”
Sad, but true. That’s the way it was. Belly dancing was beautiful and feminine and passionate; and you could do it alone. You depended on no one. It was freeing.
But now, here she stood not even remembering the basic step. “Once on the floor, I’ll remember,” she told her best friend Elhira. “Muscles have memory, you know.” She had been so excited about coming and dancing all night and now here she was. No one to dance with. No one good, any way. So she went and began to dance the familiar steps with one of Elhira’s friends. He was just fine. He wasn’t amazingly good, but he knew some stuff.
After almost an hour of beating about the room and bordly dancing with Elhira’s friend,s he stood back and watched, remembering the nights she had stood just like this. Only never for this long. She had three brothers to dance with and now they had all moved on. She was bored, longed to dance like times of old and had no one to do it with.
Finally, she spotted a boy from her acting class who had been something of a stalker a year ago. But she was desperate. She knew he was a great dancer…and so did he. She asked him to dance and they did. It was amazing. He was not attractive at all, but his movements were elaborate and strong; he knew what he was doing and knew that she could follow along. It was like old times as she flew across the dance floor, her arms twisting and her legs stylishly bending and kicking. Her body came a love again.
But it was too short lived. The song ended and she was back to standing and watching. It was like being her old 14 to 18 year old self again’ moody, depressed and hanging back. It was awful. Then Anika, her sister, came up and said, “Let’s go out and belly dance! No one is asking me to dance.”
“Sure,” Aysu thought. “You’ve dance more than me, skinny thing.”
Aysu really did love her sister, but after battling her anorexia for 3 or more years had made Anika something of a given enemy. She was thin and fragile but insisted on dieting all the time and working out. Belly dancing was one way she did this and that angered Aysu.
“Fine,” Aysu said outloud. “But only for a few seconds.” She really didn’t feel like showing her raqs sharqi to hand full of West Coasters on the dance floor. But that didn’t last. Aysu and Anika hit the floor and didn’t stop undulating and swimming through the air until the song ended.
Aysu came off the floor thinking, “This is why I belly dance. I can do it alone.”
Sad, but true. That’s the way it was. Belly dancing was beautiful and feminine and passionate; and you could do it alone. You depended on no one. It was freeing.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Chapter Four: Hypocrite!
There is one thing that ties all of the things Aysu was trying to live together. She was trying to live "in the world and not of it", the good life of the cultures she loved (the philosophies of belly dancers), a follower of O'Dell and the gothic lifestyle. That one thing was this "Do not be a hypocrite."
Aysu had so many brothers and sisters growing up and she still had many that she had to be a good example for. She always tried in her own power to be "good" and to "do the right thing" so that the little ones might learn from her. But as you know, that was already difficult.
So some of the rules of wanting to be a real belly dancer (other than knowing the history, studying the roots and knowing the differences of the dances) is to be a lady. To be polite and to know that you really are beautiful and strong. So be a lady.
One of the gothic philosophies is to be honest and accept as much as you can. Alright, so honest might seem easy and maybe it was. Once Aysu started on that path (not that she was dishonest and a liar before) she found she liked it well. Being honest made you sweeter, nicer and made people more comfortable around you and you more comfortable around other people. The harder part for people was the accepting bit. Aysu tried it and found that not judging people and keeping meaner thoughts in her head and not through her mouth was nice as well. She stopped gossiping and simply accepted people. Now some may think that this clashes with O'Dell's teaching to spread the Word, but it doesn't. Once people see that you are not "out to attack and convert them" they are at ease in your presence and will accept you as well. Then you're life will be the Witness. So accepting people is better then judging them.
Finally, the Teachings of O'Dell tell us over and over again not to be a hypocrite. Some of you are reading this and thinking, "yes, only for O'Dell's followers though." Or you may be thinking that you have never been a hypocrite in you're life...you are completely mistaken if you think that.
Everyone has said something is stupid then gone and done it. Or you have told your friends that that TV show is not worth your time and you don't like it and neither should they. Then you finally get to know the show and there you are every Friday, watching it. The worst case is telling people (even your kids) not to lie or cheat or steal. No doubt a parent has had to "tell tales" in the work place or at school. It is the hardest thing to avoid.
In Aysu's sociology class, the teacher showed what a hypocrite he and other psychologist were. It was actually an interesting class and they were discussing "symbolic interactionism." Aysu read the definitions and the talk began.
"So SI really goes back to critical constructionism," she said to her group partners. "Because critical constructionism is the people with money being the people with power who therefore influence the social interactionsim."
The teacher had to agree but then said, "Of course some critical constructionists will disagree with that because..." The rest of what he said faded out as Aysu's thoughts were activated. The teacher had labeled a group of people. "Critical constructionists". So the whole philosophy of not being in groups and having a socialist network really didn't matter? Weren't Sociologists supposed to be more open minded? No groups? Marxists. They all really had names and profiling was supposed to bad. He said so earlier in the class!
So there it is. Hypocrisy is everywhere you look. The biggest is in the media. But that is another post and will be written another time.
Aysu had so many brothers and sisters growing up and she still had many that she had to be a good example for. She always tried in her own power to be "good" and to "do the right thing" so that the little ones might learn from her. But as you know, that was already difficult.
So some of the rules of wanting to be a real belly dancer (other than knowing the history, studying the roots and knowing the differences of the dances) is to be a lady. To be polite and to know that you really are beautiful and strong. So be a lady.
One of the gothic philosophies is to be honest and accept as much as you can. Alright, so honest might seem easy and maybe it was. Once Aysu started on that path (not that she was dishonest and a liar before) she found she liked it well. Being honest made you sweeter, nicer and made people more comfortable around you and you more comfortable around other people. The harder part for people was the accepting bit. Aysu tried it and found that not judging people and keeping meaner thoughts in her head and not through her mouth was nice as well. She stopped gossiping and simply accepted people. Now some may think that this clashes with O'Dell's teaching to spread the Word, but it doesn't. Once people see that you are not "out to attack and convert them" they are at ease in your presence and will accept you as well. Then you're life will be the Witness. So accepting people is better then judging them.
Finally, the Teachings of O'Dell tell us over and over again not to be a hypocrite. Some of you are reading this and thinking, "yes, only for O'Dell's followers though." Or you may be thinking that you have never been a hypocrite in you're life...you are completely mistaken if you think that.
Everyone has said something is stupid then gone and done it. Or you have told your friends that that TV show is not worth your time and you don't like it and neither should they. Then you finally get to know the show and there you are every Friday, watching it. The worst case is telling people (even your kids) not to lie or cheat or steal. No doubt a parent has had to "tell tales" in the work place or at school. It is the hardest thing to avoid.
In Aysu's sociology class, the teacher showed what a hypocrite he and other psychologist were. It was actually an interesting class and they were discussing "symbolic interactionism." Aysu read the definitions and the talk began.
"So SI really goes back to critical constructionism," she said to her group partners. "Because critical constructionism is the people with money being the people with power who therefore influence the social interactionsim."
The teacher had to agree but then said, "Of course some critical constructionists will disagree with that because..." The rest of what he said faded out as Aysu's thoughts were activated. The teacher had labeled a group of people. "Critical constructionists". So the whole philosophy of not being in groups and having a socialist network really didn't matter? Weren't Sociologists supposed to be more open minded? No groups? Marxists. They all really had names and profiling was supposed to bad. He said so earlier in the class!
So there it is. Hypocrisy is everywhere you look. The biggest is in the media. But that is another post and will be written another time.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Chapter three: Life in the Malestrom
The days were passing slowly and events seemed to have to some sort of a snail-like crawl. Normally, this drives a person insane, but Aysu knew that it meant she was to observe something. And there was much to observe.
Since the family was moving far away, she had to go with them because her father would not allow her to live on her own.
"I'm old enough!" Aysu used to say in her arguments with her parents. "I have a job, and I'm 20 years old!"
It was no use. Her father would say that he could not leave her in a place unprotected. Aysu stilled argued. Finally, it came down to logic.
"How much money to you make a month?" Father had asked.
"About $400," she said, knowing at once what was coming next.
"It will take you nearly $1500 to live alone," Father coaxed. "Per month. That's car, phone, apartment and food and other essentials."
Of course he was right. But that didn't make it any better or easier. So after many weeks of anger, frustration and home searching, Aysu spent a night in prayer to O'Dell.
She lit her candles and placed them around the oriental rugs on her bedroom floor. Then she put her bible and incense burner in the center turned down the lights then sat in the middle of it all. she closed her eyes and asked for peace of mind and calmness of spirit before she opened the Holy Book to a chapter. The first thing she read was an order from O'Dell to one of his followers to "go south".
That was all it took. It was real. She had asked and in that moment O'Dell answered. There was mo arguing about it. But then, something more extraordinary happened. In the depths of her stomach, something erupted and she felt excited. Something told her that something...or someone...was waiting for her in the southern land. She knew she had to go. She must go, take the journey, and find that something....someone.
And if only it was that easy. She had a plan to fulfil at the academy she attended. She had auditioned for the theatre there and had won enough money to take a few classes. She had been at the academy for years and was ready to graduate. This was the last semester she was to be there. And she would have to leave before that happened. Naturally, this made her angry, but she remembered that O'Dell had a plan. So she just took 3 classes and began to bide her time, still working in the Writing Center of the academy.
But it got worse. She auditioned for one of the plays and got a role in the Japanese play (perfect for a girl wanting to expand beyond the shallow thoughts of American Society). She thought it all would work out, but then the director told her that the play would tour in May...
She was supposed to move to the South before April. And now she didn't know what to do. She had thought of many options:
1) Stay. find a place to live till after May. But then she would be there for the rest of the semester, which she had not planned on. So she did not take the last class she needed to graduate. So now if she stayed, it would be frustrating to know she could have graduated, but didn't.
2) Move to working on costumes or makeup for the first play. Then she could still leave earlier in the year.
3) Just wait it out...
This last option was at first, appealing but the more she thought about it, the more it sounded less like good old Romani honesty. So she went with #2. And now all she could do was hope for the best and pray to O'Dell to be merciful. To let her life be a little easier now. Let the director know that the plays really did mean something and that she truly was sorry for being a burden.
All she could do was hope...
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Chapter Two: Aysu Decides to Watch
Asysu had, at one point been looking forward to her “Social Problems” class but now she was not so sure. She was excited because she had wanted to be foster parent later in life and thought that the class would help her prepare for whatever troubles the kids might bring with them. But all this teacher wanted to do was talk about himself. He talked for 25 minutes about his websites and always ended his name with Ph.D. as if the students already didn’t know.
She tried to remember to remove some of her biases long enough to learn something, but that learning never came. They spoke for the last few minutes of the class on what it meant to be non-objective. Aysu was listening with an open mind until the teacher said something about followers of O’Dell never being able to be un-biased.
This remark was something that Aysu could not ignore. The rebel in her said, “If you say not to pray to O’Dell then I will pray all the harder. If you say that worshipers of O’Dell are less than those that worship others or none at all, then I will worship all the louder!”
Aysu knew that countering with such anger was not the way to attack the situation, so she wrote her thoughts down and closed her notebook leaving the class in a state of forced calm.
She spent a fairly uneventful day at school. Her car was in the shop so her mother drove to her to class. Bu the plumber had decided to come to the house so Mother was going to be late. While waiting, Aysu did what most college people did—she surfed the internet.
First, she spent time looking up her favorite thing and the source of her intended transformation: Arabic things and raqs sharqi. That led to other searches such as Egypt. That is when it happened. She found a video claiming that ancient Egyptians were actually black people. It claimed that the most awesome ancient civilization was a black community. She had no problem with this at first, accept that she thought she knew differently.
The teachings of O’Dell said to accept all people and she normally did; she just didn’t talk to people very often (but this shall be written about later). So, rather than judge the one who posted the information, she began to look it up. She found all of the old arguments about “kemet” and the fact that Egypt is in Africa and the look of the sphinx…she spent hours searching and reading.
In the end, she decided that Egyptians were darker skinned people much like the Arabs and Persians. She let it be too. She did not want to be in the middle of a debate like that. It was not that she was giving up it was simply that she chose to believe something about it and came to that decision.
Later that night, she retrieved her car from the shop and was very happy to have it back. She then checked on her ferret, Cain, to makes sure the healing was going well. A few days earlier, she had discovered that Cain’s collar was too tight and had fused to his skin causing a bad wound when she removed it. After all of this an uneventful dinner, she went to her room and watched “Repo!”.
The thoughts she got form the movie were rather profound, she thought.
The future portrayed in this movie may be a little farfetched, but somehow, she didn’t see it all as wrong. The fact that humans could be so brutally interested in their own appearance so much as to take body parts from others is not far from what they do already, surely. Man is desperate to not look old and then to not die. Everything in this world (set in New York or San Francisco?) revolves around the company that can “save your life”. If you can’t keep up your payments for the new body parts then a Repo Man comes and repossess them. Yes…he rips you open and takes what was not paid for.
This may shock you, but along with wanting to live the Old Ways, Aysu also was something of a goth who had been there and back. She had been all of the way to the darkest end and the poser side. Then back to understanding what goth was really about. This is lessons to be written about later as well if you wish.
So the movie was not shocking in the gore of it, but the people in it. Truly shocking, but not too unrealistic.
With this and the people claiming Egyptians as black, it is all the more clear the vanity and pride of man. Truly the fall of man is his want to be all that he can be…maybe not such a great thing after all? Aysu wondered this and said as she laid in bed that night, “Maybe I’ll look into it. Man cannot be so mysterious.”
And so, she began her look at man and herself.
She tried to remember to remove some of her biases long enough to learn something, but that learning never came. They spoke for the last few minutes of the class on what it meant to be non-objective. Aysu was listening with an open mind until the teacher said something about followers of O’Dell never being able to be un-biased.
This remark was something that Aysu could not ignore. The rebel in her said, “If you say not to pray to O’Dell then I will pray all the harder. If you say that worshipers of O’Dell are less than those that worship others or none at all, then I will worship all the louder!”
Aysu knew that countering with such anger was not the way to attack the situation, so she wrote her thoughts down and closed her notebook leaving the class in a state of forced calm.
She spent a fairly uneventful day at school. Her car was in the shop so her mother drove to her to class. Bu the plumber had decided to come to the house so Mother was going to be late. While waiting, Aysu did what most college people did—she surfed the internet.
First, she spent time looking up her favorite thing and the source of her intended transformation: Arabic things and raqs sharqi. That led to other searches such as Egypt. That is when it happened. She found a video claiming that ancient Egyptians were actually black people. It claimed that the most awesome ancient civilization was a black community. She had no problem with this at first, accept that she thought she knew differently.
The teachings of O’Dell said to accept all people and she normally did; she just didn’t talk to people very often (but this shall be written about later). So, rather than judge the one who posted the information, she began to look it up. She found all of the old arguments about “kemet” and the fact that Egypt is in Africa and the look of the sphinx…she spent hours searching and reading.
In the end, she decided that Egyptians were darker skinned people much like the Arabs and Persians. She let it be too. She did not want to be in the middle of a debate like that. It was not that she was giving up it was simply that she chose to believe something about it and came to that decision.
Later that night, she retrieved her car from the shop and was very happy to have it back. She then checked on her ferret, Cain, to makes sure the healing was going well. A few days earlier, she had discovered that Cain’s collar was too tight and had fused to his skin causing a bad wound when she removed it. After all of this an uneventful dinner, she went to her room and watched “Repo!”.
The thoughts she got form the movie were rather profound, she thought.
The future portrayed in this movie may be a little farfetched, but somehow, she didn’t see it all as wrong. The fact that humans could be so brutally interested in their own appearance so much as to take body parts from others is not far from what they do already, surely. Man is desperate to not look old and then to not die. Everything in this world (set in New York or San Francisco?) revolves around the company that can “save your life”. If you can’t keep up your payments for the new body parts then a Repo Man comes and repossess them. Yes…he rips you open and takes what was not paid for.
This may shock you, but along with wanting to live the Old Ways, Aysu also was something of a goth who had been there and back. She had been all of the way to the darkest end and the poser side. Then back to understanding what goth was really about. This is lessons to be written about later as well if you wish.
So the movie was not shocking in the gore of it, but the people in it. Truly shocking, but not too unrealistic.
With this and the people claiming Egyptians as black, it is all the more clear the vanity and pride of man. Truly the fall of man is his want to be all that he can be…maybe not such a great thing after all? Aysu wondered this and said as she laid in bed that night, “Maybe I’ll look into it. Man cannot be so mysterious.”
And so, she began her look at man and herself.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Chapter One: A Lifestyle
The way you live and the culture in which you live is called a lifestyle. You can adopt that which you live in or create a new one that best suites you. When you live a certain place, say somewhere strange or tribal compared to what you may consider "normal", you can then become adapted to the ways of that place. This is a term known as "going native".
You most likely live in America. Notice the lack of you and your people "going native". Why is this? It was because of the lifestyle that was brought over from Europe that was considered more advanced. Europe had to cauterize and teach the natives. Because of that, a culture and a lifestyle and a people were nearly destroyed.
Of course, America wouldn't be where it is to day with it's beautifully enhanced learning and technology without the removal savage killing it had several hundred years ago. Of course then America had to fight it's mother country, gain freedom, then fight itself before it finally settled down.
This was the beginning of a lifestyle and a culture that many people now live in. Most sociologist believe that most of the world is adopting an "American" lifestyle. However, some prefer to live apart from that lifestyle. Consider it being "in America but not of it". Yes, that is a scripture reference.
So what about other lifestyles and philosophies? That is what this story is about. This is the story of "Mirella Aysu Asenoth"--a gypsy trying to find who she is in the world and trying to find her place and purpose in it. Sound familiar? It's probably your life you will be reading...
You most likely live in America. Notice the lack of you and your people "going native". Why is this? It was because of the lifestyle that was brought over from Europe that was considered more advanced. Europe had to cauterize and teach the natives. Because of that, a culture and a lifestyle and a people were nearly destroyed.
Of course, America wouldn't be where it is to day with it's beautifully enhanced learning and technology without the removal savage killing it had several hundred years ago. Of course then America had to fight it's mother country, gain freedom, then fight itself before it finally settled down.
This was the beginning of a lifestyle and a culture that many people now live in. Most sociologist believe that most of the world is adopting an "American" lifestyle. However, some prefer to live apart from that lifestyle. Consider it being "in America but not of it". Yes, that is a scripture reference.
So what about other lifestyles and philosophies? That is what this story is about. This is the story of "Mirella Aysu Asenoth"--a gypsy trying to find who she is in the world and trying to find her place and purpose in it. Sound familiar? It's probably your life you will be reading...
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