Susan vs. Kettlebell

I love me some kettlebell ... sort of!

No, it's not a legal battle:  I'm on day five of my self-imposed Two Week Challenge at a local gym, and what a journey it's been so far!  In addition to taking hour-long classes auspiciously named "Body Sculpt" and "Muscle Mix", I've been working with a personal trainer in half-hour sessions.  I found out mid-week that my trainer, Nic, is known as "The Punisher".  He is a Mixed Martial Arts athlete and looks like it.  Like most dancers, I am pretty good at driving myself hard, so I wanted someone who would push me - Nic certainly is tough!

My goals of cross-training and exploring different ways of working my body are certainly being met.  I thought that as a dancer, I'd already learned how to use my muscles in myriad ways, especially with my work in Chinese ethnic dance.  But as soon as I started the challenge at the gym, I learned just how much dance has trained me to use my body in one way: Up and forward, on the balls of my feet, always stretching towards the heavens.  Even Korean dance, the most "down" I've ever had to be, is still forward compared to what I'm working on now.

Back on Your Heels!
One of the first things I learned was the proper "squat" stance.  It is a prerequisite to many exercises, including one that involves holding a kettlebell and swinging it between the legs, then snapping the hips upward to swing the kettlebell up.  After Nic showed me the stance and moves, I gamely picked up the weight and nearly swung myself out across the room.

"Back on the heels!  Sit in your hips!  Butt back into your hips!  On the heels, snap the hips, on the heels!" Nic barked, albeit in an encouraging way.

Wait, what do you mean, "back on the heels" and "sit in your hips"?  This was the very antithesis of everything I've ever learned!  It suddenly dawned on me as I panted and sweated that this was going to be very tough and interesting, indeed.

After a grueling half hour of variations on kettlebell routines, involving single arm swings, presses overhead, circling the kettlebell around the head with elbows tight, and so forth, I was feeling it everywhere.  The next day I could barely bend my legs without acutely feeling all these new muscles that I'd never engaged before, since I am never back on my heels.

By the way, when I first laid eyes on the 18lb iron thing Nic had placed before me on the floor, all I could think of was those weights that would, if you were unlucky, drop on your character and cause his untimely demise in the old sidescroller game Dark Castle.  I certainly wasn't going to let the kettlebell crush me, and yesterday was my second session of kettleball delight - a series of 5 exercises, repeated twice.

And you know what, I felt stronger the second time around!  I felt more secure in the back of my heels, butt so far out that it felt like it was in outer space.  However, this position really does enable you to snap your hips and get that kettlebell up so you're not only using brute force in the arms.  It works your whole body like you wouldn't believe.

Two unexpected side effects of this work:

1) I am acutely aware of where I'm weak and where I've been cheating in dance.  Nearly all moves are done in perfect parallel in the fitness world, and if you're attached to a kettlebell even the smallest imbalance is magnified 100 fold (or so it feels).  I realized that I've been skewing my body in arabesque to the left much more grossly than I'd imagined.  I felt how much less strong I am on that side, and now know what I need to work on.  Bless/Darn that kettlebell!

2) Going to ballet technique class after a fitness workout reminds me of how much I love ballet, and how much it is "home" for my body.  I get to engage those familiar muscles, to lengthen, to stretch to the sky.  It was like a breath of fresh air, despite my soreness.  Ah ...

Week Two, here we come.  I'll best you yet, kettlebell!

Into the Unknown

Yi Ethnic Dance "MoSheGe" - A great endurance buster!

... the Unknown being "fitness"!  I'd come across many references to "cross-training" as an important component to overall strength for dancers in various publications such as Dance Magazine and Pointe.  Ever since coming back from working in Beijing last year where I didn't dance at all and resorted to running on the "hamster wheel" at the tiny hotel gym to keep up a shred of endurance, I've become much more aware of what it takes to stay in shape.

I still feel woefully out of shape, to be honest, as I haven't been performing as often these days.  I hope to get back into the groove soon, but in the meantime I need to make myself strong.  Unfortunately, technique class doesn't seem to be cutting it.

To be sure, class is everything I need to feel my muscles working, to feel the floor, to make sure I'm doing things the right way.  I will not go without it!  And yet, I'm not sweating as much as I'd like - petit allegro and grand allegro across the floor are exhilarating (I've always loved jumping) but it's over all too soon, and my heart rate has only just started to get going!  As a result, I end up feeling somewhat unfulfilled.  I continue working after class, of course, but after reading about cross-training I decided to venture into the realm of "fitness" to see what the fuss was about.

I even leafed through the Health and SELF magazines my cousin and sister had lying about their homes to see what kind of exercises they recommend for their readers.  I tried to ignore the inevitable feature headlines ("Flat Belly Secrets!" "Drop 10 Pounds Eating What You Love!") and cut to the exercises.  That's when I vowed to try this strange looking contraption called the elliptical - it's supposed to be good for the heart rate and have less impact on the knees, which seemed fitting for a dancer.

I searched my memory for any references to the elliptical, and all I could come up with was Bill Murray's character in the film Lost in Translation in the scene where he gets on the machine and goes out of control on it, haplessly calling out, "Help ... HELP!!"  Undaunted, I bravely wandered into the gym at work and the very next day and tried it.  I didn't go out of control, and rather liked the experience.  I could listen to my podcasts, sweat, and even close my eyes and zone out if I wanted to.  (Doing the latter on a treadmill would have disastrous, slapstick results.)  Afterwards, I would work on my core, backbends, and other stretches.

I've kept this "cardio" activity up the past few weeks and am not sure if I should mix things up more, since honestly this kind of activity isn't exactly as interesting or stimulating as dance is for me (read: monotonous, despite the podcasts).  I'm still exploring some of the "fitness" sites and publications. While I occasionally find some useful exercises or tips, I find that in general these cater to folks with goals and needs different than those of dancers.  Conversely, dance publications often focus on certain aspects of technique, and those all-too-familiar areas of insecurity: turnout, arched feet, a higher arabesque, etc. rather than overall strength and total body health.

As part of my exploration, I am embarking on some personal training sessions at a local gym.  The goal is to challenge myself to completely different styles of movement and exercise, to see what I can do and what this does for me.  Yes, I'm a little nervous.  Stay tuned for the next chapter of my fitness exploration!  

Waters of Tibet

My first performance of a Tibetan dance is now under my belt!  After having worked tirelessly on keeping my upper body held and yet my knees very loose - such a difficult combination for a classically trained dancer! - I feel that I've finally had a taste of this unique and beautiful style.  I have yet a long way to go to get anywhere near fluent in it, as most dancers who take ballet class regularly know well, it's a real challenge to be relax the body and be "down" rather than tense and lift "up" on a strong beat.  

This dance was quite special for me, as through my research to prepare for the dance I was able to learn an intriguing aspect of Tibetan culture.  As you might have heard, water is scarce these days in the region, but the relationship Tibetans have with water has a quasi-religious quality.  The dance, whose title translates best to "Wellspring" (源), is a celebration of this wonderful element that gives us the gift of life.  And yet, it is to be revered with seriousness, given the destructive quality it can have when it overwhelms that to which it gave life.  

The piece's movements reflect this relationship with water: The opening is serious, almost dirgelike.  This soon progresses to frolicking and then gleeful splashing, finally giving way to serene contemplation.  

Not only have I begun to internalize a new style of movement, I am widening my cultural vocabulary.  I look forward to this every time I learn a new dance, even if it's in a style I have studied before.  And, I find it personally fitting that I dance a piece about the wonder of water, as "Ocean" (海) is my middle name in Chinese.  It's true that there are no oceans in Tibet, but the urbanity and yet mystical quality of water itself is worthy of reverence. 

Mind over Body

Today's ballet technique class was taught by Laura, whom I'd never taken class with before.  She mentioned she had recently returned from a decade or dancing and teaching in Amsterdam and was now mostly teaching at Alonzo King's LINES Ballet and at the ODC in San Francisco, which was exciting to hear.  Her class did not disappoint - it was full of class-strict, classical staples, but yet wonderfully influenced by a slightly contemporary edge.

What really got my attention was Laura's singular focus on the influence the mind has over the body.  After we finished a combination at the barre that ended in a front passe balance, she asked us what our thoughts were as we got into the balance.  To be honest, my thoughts were something like: "Okay, balance coming up.  HUT!" and as a result, as Laura helpfully pointed out to me, my chin was lifted a little too high, and my chest, neck, and shoulders tight.  Was I even breathing?  Probably not enough!

Now I'm pretty proud of my strength and the balances I'm able to execute.  But does that mean I can't improve or make it easier?  As I found out, I certainly can make it easier, and present a more beautiful presence at the same time.  Laura exhorted us to think very positive thoughts as we embarked on our balances.  "I am so ON today!" she exclaimed gleefully as she pulled up into a passe balance.  We all laughed, but when we tried it from there and throughout the rest of the class, I was humbled by the difference it made.

In addition, I received another crucial correction from Laura: I'm pushing my chest out too soon when hitting a balance, especially at the end of a moving combination.  I was to pique up into a back attitude en releve (step onto the ball of the foot, with the other leg bent behind me), and I was giving the full "Ta-DA!" with my upper body way too soon.  "If you give it all at the beginning, there's nothing else left!  Save it a little, then when you know you've established the balance, then show it all off!"    

The result of these two observations was that I felt I could balance for longer, with less tension in my upper body, and it was just ... less effort.  As I stepped into my attitude balance, it was not about "nailing it", it was about establishing a presence and then blooming into the full movement.  I hesitate to even call it a pose - when I tried her correction, I was constantly moving, evolving.  I felt elegant and beautiful, even!

Laura's consistent reminders and excited exclamations of "Yes!" whenever someone incorporated her corrections were very encouraging, and made me work that much harder.  I wanted to receive a "Yes!"  (I did get a few :-)

"Have your mind be a witness to your body," Laura concluded about the positive thoughts concept, and I was struck by how powerful this statement was.  It also made me realize just how much dancers must overrule the natural tendencies of our bodies in order to hone our art, to constantly gird ourselves psychologically to master limb and muscle.  But the way Laura described it, I suddenly felt that it's less about overcoming our bodies, but about observing and encouraging.  Our bodies are, after all, our prized instruments - I've only got the one, and it's irreplaceable.  It's time to stop fighting it and to work with what I've got, imperfections and all, and to make the best of it!  

In the Eye of the Beholder

I was volunteered recently to collaborate with a few photographers who had no experience working with dancers, and I gladly obliged since it's always interesting to see what results from working with photographers.  A photo shoot is always a neat opportunity to try out new poses and movements as well as go with the tried and true.

When I received some of the photos, I was dismayed by what I saw were unflattering angles and broken lines.  Did I really look that bad, or were the photographers just not capturing the moment?  But then I realized that this was 'working as intended' - the images I'd received were what the photographers considered the cream of their crop.  What I expected to see was obviously not their ideal.

Take the image here: I was disappointed because I'd worked so hard, jumping countless times (on a concrete floor!), to create the look of the bottom leg folded beneath my body while the other was behind me towards my head. So why did the photographer insist on framing the moment just as my bottom leg nearly made contact with the ground for landing, rather than to seize the jump at its greatest height?  

You can imagine my surprise when the photographer beamed proudly at this image, explaining how he'd captured the symmetry of my legs in opposition, "like a yin and yang symbol."  I'd never thought of it this way, and began to see his point despite my dismay.  I find I've warmed up to the image ... a little.

More important, this interesting experience made me realize how insular the dance world is and how much we take for granted the definitions of correct and incorrect in terms of classical lines.  We scrutinize ourselves in the mirror every day and take pains (literally) to learn what the "correct" positions feel like on our bodies.  But, upon seeing the collection of images from three non-dance photographers, I'm beginning to understand that beauty, after all, is in the eye of the beholder.  To know that someone sees something perfect and lovely in what I consider to be a complete miss is, to be honest, really refreshing!  It kindles hope within me that even I, with my flawed body and limited facility, can provide a perfect moment in dance for someone.

The Challenge of Contrasts

It's fascinating (and sometimes frustrating!) to be working on classical ballet technique, and then to switch to something wildly different like the Tibetan dance I'm rehearsing for an upcoming show. Ballet is, as most dancers say, is 'up', referencing the pulled up, elongated muscles and posture, while Tibetan is 'down'.

Now, there are many different kinds of 'down'.  When I was in NYC studying latin jazz with Maria Torres, I learned to put my weight into my steps to get that deliberate, pert forward momentum that makes this dance style so alluring.  That's one kind of 'down'.  However, the torso is still very much held upright, making latin a kind of contrast unto itself.  

But Tibetan?  It's closer to what looks like a relaxed version of knee-bending seen in some styles of hip-hop, but with a fluid upper body and precisely placed arms and hands.  It's new to me, and I still haven't figured it out yet.  I'm still too 'up' and it makes me look awkward in a number of moves; the straight legs and trained upper body break the flow of the movement.  I still have a little bit of time to get it right before I go onstage.  I'd better keep practicing with the mirror and internalizing the Tibetan feeling - fast!

At the same time, I love the feeling of being pulled up all the time in technique class.  It's like my bread and butter (or, for my Asian side, rice and vegetables); very basic and yet oh-so-satisfying.  This morning in class, our instructor, Rika, told me to hold onto my rotation three times as much on my way up from plie.  It turns out that I've been letting it go ever so slightly, which results in my tush sticking out in a very un-balletic manner.  I sweat all through the barre, and by center all the muscles in my groin were especially tired.  It was an exhilarating feeling - I'm starting to get it, a little!  That's all I can ask for - progress, one bit at a time, in whatever style I'm working on.

What Hangs in the Balance

Happy Holidays!  The end of the year has snuck up on me, and I haven't been able to devote as much energy to dance simply because my reserves have been drained by the demands of my office job this quarter.  If this continues, my physical health (not to mention my sanity) is going to be at risk and I'll have to ask myself some tough questions.  They always loom in the back of my mind, but at some point I have to buckle down and think about who I am and what it is I want to be spending my energies on.

My dance life recently hasn't been non-existent, rather it's redeveloping.  I realize I go through phases in my choice of daily class.  I'll find myself wanting to feel all my muscles working properly and to go back to the basics; you'll find me at ballet class 70% of the week.  Then at some point I'll just want to move, no holds barred, focusing on endurance and strength.  I'll want to end the session with me, flat on my back on the floor, relishing the sweatiness!  Mop me off the floor at the Chinese dance studio.

I'm somewhere in between at the moment, trying to recover from work. I'm simply happy to be dancing at all.

This video is of the Yi ethnic dance "Mo She Ge" that I'd dubbed "Yi Feisty Girl" in an earlier post.  It reminds me of why I keep pushing myself; no matter how tired I am from work, I make sure I do something every day to stay in touch with my body and to get myself to class (or to give myself class if I have to).  It's to keep on pushing the boundaries of what my body can do, not just in terms of strength, but in internalizing new styles of movement.

The distinctive, playful movements of this Yunnan province dance are meant to look natural and at ease, but in reality learning this was completely unnatural for me!  This sounds strange, but it felt akin to putting on the most ill-fitting suit and shoes, and being asked to tap dance while giving a speech.  Obviously this wasn't specifically the case, but you get the idea: I had no clue as to even which muscles I should use to initiate the movements.  Awkward.  I know it's bad when my normally intense teacher laughs after I try something!  In the end, I somehow pulled this off between business trips to Beijing and the results were at least fun and colorful.

The point is, this reminds me that dance is a real part of me.  When I'm a stressed zombie after another 15 hour day at the office and have no room left in my brain, I need to remember who I am.  I am not just a worker bee.  I dance.  Perhaps it's time to reevaluate the (lack of) balance in my life.

Here's looking forward to a year ahead of music, movement, growth, and joy!