Special Populations

I’m momentarily frazzled and fully engaged in my mind, not my body.  I’m anxious because I’m about to start class and my laptop which has all the music we've been using is being temperamental.  Finally I get it to restart. While I’m waiting for it to reboot a student comes up to me and asks, “You know that Chinese song we do?” She’s referring to the song ‘Japanese’ from the Nia routine ‘Opal.’  She says “I do the moves from that when I’m stressed.”  Immediately I am reminded of why I am here and what is important – and it’s not the technical difficulties!

I’ve recently had a string of opportunities to teach movement and theater classes to special populations, most recently Nia classes for adults with a variety of special needs.  My work with special populations has made my teaching skills stronger across the board because it requires that I focus on that which is most essential and modify and adapt on the fly to make sure I am meeting my students’ needs.  This student showed me that I am doing my job – I am giving my students strategies to increase their mind-body connection and improve their quality of life.  I was inspired by my student's story and enthusiasm and had her lead the choreography for ‘Japanese’ that day in class.

The main thing I’ve taken away from working with children and adults with special needs is that the more I expect my students are capable of achieving the more they step up to the challenge and even exceed my expectations.   Whether it is young teens with visual impairments taking on challenging scene work in a theater class or an adult with cognitive challenges leading her peers in dance or a student in one of my classic Nia classes pushing the envelope of movement and sensation exploration, my students have proven to be capable of great personal growth and achievement.  They, in turn, challenge me and allow me to discover myself more fully as a teacher and a person.

Speech, Speech, Speech!

My sister gets married tomorrow and I am her maid of honor.  She is my only sister and she and her story are very special to me so I've been thinking a lot about what I want to say when it's my turn to give her maid of honor speech.  In her capacity as a provider of services for ecumenical weddings and other life events, my mom has a facebook page for Bountiful Blessing Events on which she recently posted a link to the commencement speech author George Saunders delivered to Syracuse University graduates.  Saunders focuses on the impact of mindful kindness over conventional measures of success.  His recount of regret over an instance of not being kinder to a fellow student in seventh grade struck a chord with me and made me think about the ways I have learned to be kinder since the harsh jungle days of middle school.

Like other stirring speeches I have encountered, this one spurred me to reflect on Saunders' message and continue a discourse on kindness in my mind.  The main point I would add to the conversation is that in addition to being kind to others it has been a life journey for me to learn to be kinder to myself.  There can be a fine line between selfishness and self care but the difference is palpable.  Moments where I am stronger at providing self care I also have more kindness to give.  The other takeaway was that the strength of Saunders' speech was that it had a strong point of view, a positive and thoughtfully crafted message, and was a starting point for additional reflection.

I have loved my sister for 24 years and 132 days.  I know I will only be able to touch the surface of how deep my love runs for her but I hope to take what I've learned from Saunders and other great speakers and speak honestly and from the heart and invite reflection on what will already be on the minds and hearts of everyone in the room - how much we love Sarah (and Noah, I mustn't ignore her WONDERFUL!!! fiance!).  Obviously, it is too soon to divulge what I plan to say as the bride often reads my blog, but stay tuned! I can say this with confidence, people should bring tissues :) 

Songwriting

It took me almost a year to write my first song.

In the spring of last year I spent a lot of time with my sister because I had recently moved back to Albany after a breakup.  I do a lot of reflecting aloud with the wise and wonderful women of my family and my girl Sarah heard music in my words before I did and encouraged me to write lyrics.  I bought a notebook expressly for this purpose.  Several months later I wrote down my first seed of an idea.  That seed is still germinating: "I get a feeling I can wait to hold on to you."  It hasn't become a song yet but others have blossomed - perhaps this one will take shape as well.

Many seeds later one took root and there was a span of about six months between writing the first verse and the chorus and finding the other two verses and reworking what I had already written.  That song -  Broken - opened the floodgates.  Seeds get planted more often now and more and more of them are taking root.  I'm still in the early stages but I've written lyrics and melody for four songs and I'm working on lyrics for a fifth and have tons of other ideas waiting to turn to song.

I'm collaborating with a friend to add instrumentation.  I was singing Home, a song I had completed only moments before showing it to him.  The images that inspired the final lines of the second verse were still so fresh that while the moment in my life they reference happened years ago I felt transported.  I made it through the song but cried as soon as I was done - and laughed moments later.  I gave voice to old pains and pleasures and in doing so was able to be with those feelings, give them space, and let a little more go.  I hope to find a place in a song for these lines but I wrote:

The pain is in the song now
And not in me
And that's where it's supposed to be

Dreaming it Forward

"Someday we'll find it. The Rainbow Connection. The lovers, the dreamers, and me." - Jim Henson

I am a dreamer.  I am a dreamer who is living her dream.  I am a dreamer with fears and doubts; who faces obstacles.  Even in the darkest times of my life a part of me has always clung to my dreams and held out hope as a little light grew into a radiant desire to be fully myself.  

I was stunned and deeply touched when I found out that as part of my gift for my thirtieth birthday some of my family started a special savings account for me titled "Trust in my future."  It was a sign of their faith in me to follow my path and bolstered my already growing confidence that the best choice I can make for my future and happiness is to allow myself the live the full expression of who I am.

Around this same time I happened to hear from a friend of mine, Brian Larrabee, who co founded a California Non-Profit organization called Playground of Dreams.  POD works with Los Angeles area children to help them live out their dreams while building community and instilling leadership.  These young dreamers are our future, and what better future could we hope for than one full of dreamers who express themselves fully and with compassion.  Brian reached out to see if I would be interested in donating to POD's first fundraiser the "Coolest Variety Show on Earth."

My donation to POD was the first purchase made with with money from my "Trust in my future" fund - and what an appropriate way to "dream it forward!"  The POD children raised $30,000 to continue the amazing outreach POD is doing in their community.  

30 and Thriving

In 2008 I left NYC after living there for just under a year.  We didn't fit. 

I moved to New York with my head full of notions and plans - hopes to audition and break out as an actor.  I auditioned twice the whole time I was there.  For years I thought I didn't do more because I wasn't brave enough.  Maybe that was even partially true but I think there is more to it than that.  In order to have "made it" in New York I needed to be "all in."  I love acting but it has never been my only love or passion and I was never comfortable being all in.  I had it in my head that in order to be an artist I had to pick one discipline and stick with it.  I also found it difficult to find the balance between doing what I love and doing what I should do.  I am finally living my life integrating that what I should do and what I love are one and the same - and boy does it feel good not to be fighting that inner battle anymore!

Last week I wrote a song (for the first time since I was 8 - I like this one a lot better...), started teaching Nia, rehearsed music with a friend, taught a theater lesson for a child's birthday party,  and had a wildly fun Masquerade themed early birthday party for my 30th.  I am finally giving myself a chance to foster the artist I've always longed to be. I officially turn 30 tomorrow and in some ways I feel almost like a child again - eager, curious and optimistic.  My life is shifting and I can sense opportunity all around me.  It has been an amazing adventure to allow myself to say no to forcing myself to be someone I'm not out of a misguided notion of who I am supposed to be, and say yes to being more and more myself.  It's good to be me!

30 Days of 30

Anyone who knows "Mama Schmidt" knows that she is enamored with her birthday.  While most celebrate a birth "day" she celebrates her "birthday month."  March is my birthday month and it's a big one this year so I'm going to celebrate in style. But it's been a tough couple of weeks.  I have a tendency to have conqueror attitude when I have a goal or ambition.  I don't want to achieve the goal, I want to annihilate it.  This mindset often leaves me in one of two places - racing to achieve, or stopped.  When I have a lot on my plate I have a harder time finding middle ground.  Luckily, I have resources.  Luckily, one of those resources is "my girl Sarah."

When I was six years and ten days old I got the best birthday present a girl could ask for - a little sister.  I had two brothers already and when I found out my mom was pregnant I threatened my parents to leave  them for a family with ONLY sisters if they gave me another brother.  I already had a family picked out if the worst happened - but, thankfully, she was a girl.  They wanted to name her Emily Rose but I kept calling her "my sister Sarah" after my favorite character in my favorite book Sarah's Unicorn by Bruce and Katherine Coville.  I was a pretty persuasive child.

So, my girl Sarah, my favorite birthday present of all time, has been the ringleader of birthday cheer for me this year.  Since I'm turning 30 and her birthday is on the 30th she has decided that we'd celebrate 30 days of 30 starting at the beginning of the month and ending on her birthday.  On day one she posted a picture to instagram of photos from a crazy impromptu photo shoot we decided to do last summer.  She's sent me texts wishing me "happy day five,"  "happy day six."  These little reminders have brought glimpses of sunshine on dark days and have reminded me that even though things are tough, this is a time of celebration in my life.  I'm posting one of my favorite 30 days of 30 postings she made for me - it's from day four - a picture of my mom when she was pregnant with me.  Enjoy!

Oscar Night

Watching the Oscars I think about how my dreams in life have changed over the years.  I am reminded of childhood dreams of my own "star" moments as I see the glitz and glamor of interviews on the red carpet.  I feel a rush of empathy anticipating the proud and nervous moments of artists publicly accepting recognition for their work. Sure, I'm still a fan of the glitz and glam (did you read the Moulin Rouge post?) and I enjoy when my work is appreciated, but my idea of what it means to be an artist has expanded so much since my days of childhood fantasy.

At one point I really yearned for the accolades that come with being an "A-lister;" that is no longer the case (not that I'd necessarily turn it down either!).  I find myself happier now that I feel a sense of knowing that I am, in fact, an artist.  I feel more fulfilled than when I viewed artistry as something on a pedestal that I wished to reach but perhaps did not expect I would fully realize.  I am blessed right now to be in an artistically ripe time in my life.  Dancing Nia and beginning to teach classes has opened me up to experience dance in ways I did not previously imagine.  I'm singing more.  Opportunities in theater are popping up again.  I feel like I am finding a home for the artist in me here in Albany.

On Friday I went to see two dance concerts at The Arts Center of the Capital Region, (where I have also recently been asked to do some work teaching theater...more to follow...).  All the pieces were choreographed and performed by local area dancers.  I felt just as inspired watching their artistry as I did tonight watching Charlize Theron grace the stage in Waltz, or Jennifer Hudson destroy (and I mean that in the GOOD way!!!) "And I am Telling You," or the entire cast and crew of Les Miserable sing their medley.  I felt connected to these artists watching them - to their art - and to the artist inside myself.

Perhaps the most inspiring moment for me tonight was the acceptance speech for the documentary short "Inocente."  In brief, the documentary is about an artist's journey from homelessness to living her dream.  I was grateful to be watching because I might have otherwise been unaware of her story and the powerful reminder that it gave me that art has power, dreams have power, and people have the power to touch others with their stories and art and transform lives.

A "Great" Mistake

I wake suddenly and I can feel my heart beat pulsing in my chest.  I can feel the pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse in my whole body.   This is not the familiar old pounding sensation of panic that I remember.  I feel a great energy coursing through me.  Energy, compassion, and strength (not to mention a bit of extra adrenaline).  I wake with words inside me bursting to get out.  I am inclined to acquiesce to their request.

I made a mistake this weekend.  I've been operating under the false assumption that I would be able to attend an open audition tonight for Park Playhouse's July production of Spamalot.  I got the dates wrong.  Choosing to prepare for the audition right now even if I don't have this particular opportunity has been a gift.  I was scrambling a bit to prepare and polish a piece and my friend Eric was kind enough to help me work on it at the last minute (or as it turned out - a little bit after the last minute - c'est la vie!).  I chose a song that I love and I chose ambitiously - going with the opening section of "The Bride's Lament" from "The Drowsey Chaperone."  The song is funny and modern and, frankly, not like anything I've ever worked on but the sort of song I've always wanted to sing - no, not sing - I wanted to nail it.

In order to nail it I needed to let go, relax, and listen.  This may not be a terribly novel discovery, but for me, actually accomplishing these things has always been a major challenge.  In the past, I have stood in my own way.  With prompting and determination I made my racing, judging, thinking mind take a back seat.  I sang like I do when I'm dance because I sang with an awareness of sensation in my whole body which allowed me to explore my voice more deeply, creatively, and expressively.  As a side benefit it seems like it also helps with accuracy - I know - novel! (Sarcasm intended :-D)  I may not get to take advantage of this audition, but the gift of this mistake is that I'm ready.  I've got a fire in my belly and I'm ready to go.  I also nailed it.

One Billion Rising

If you haven't already heard about the movement "One Billion Rising" started by Eve Ensler, the playwright who brought us the "Vagina Monologues," you should definitely check out their website.  I first found out about the organization when I read the interview with Anne Hathaway featured in Glamour magazine.  Besides finding myself thinking "Gosh, I could totally be friends with Anne Hathaway," I felt really compelled by what I read about the "One Billion Rising" movement and it's goal to end violence against women through fundraising and awareness.  And they called me to dance.  I can answer that call.

I knew immediately that I wanted to take part in the day.  There is no place I relish dancing more than at the Center for Nia and Yoga in Albany where I've trained and take classes and as luck would have it two of my favorite teachers planned to host an OBR event there.  Better yet - it was a Dance Jam with live Djembe drumming!  Dance Jams are magical and only come around every two to three months, which probably has something to do with what makes them so special - scarcity makes them a treat.

At a Dance Jam any Nia teacher can "pick up the mic" and teach (I was brave enough to pick up the mic today! The second time I've ever done so at a Jam).  It's a loud and frenetic evening and the best Jams really tap into the group energy and I find the spontaneity and synergy to be both energizing and healing.  It was a good way for me to say "No" to violence against women - and violence in general for that matter.  One of the things I love about Nia is that it has helped me find the voice inside me that needs to say "no."  Feeling "no" on a cellular level has helped me set healthy boundaries in my life.  Conversely, feeling the sensation of "yes" allows me to focus on what I want to invite into my life.  Being able to say both allows me to share the best version of myself with the world around me.

In Nia, I can dance the "no" to things like violence against women.  I can dance the "yes" to growth, healing, love, and awareness.  I can say yes to being a part of change in myself, in my community, and in the world.

Disclaimer: This isn't actually from tonight - it's from the Dance Jam the week of my white belt training and it was my first time picking up the mic.   The good news is - I think we were even more packed in this evening.  It was amazing to see how many women and men (a somewhat rare sighting at the studio) came out to support this cause.

Moulin Rouge

Red stains my lips and silver glittery eye-liner bejewels my eyes.  My muscles hold the excited ache of exertion and pleasure.  Hair, pulled back in a bun, is still damp from dancing - the electric blue wig I wore returned to the friend who lent it to me because it matched my top.

I have danced Nia for a while now, and even trained for my white belt this past fall.  Slowly but surely I continue to train to teach Nia myself.  Tonight was a reminder of why I want to pursue Nia as a life practice.  I am blessed to have found a home for myself at the Center for Nia and Yoga in Albany, NY.  In this building magic is carefully crafted by Casey Bernstein - tonight's class being especially magical for me.

I love the movie and music from "Moulin Rouge" - it was love at first sight - or at least love-at-first-note-sung-by-Ewan-McGregor!  I probably watched it every night of RA duty my junior year in College.  There are many elements of dancing Nia which I am bound to explore through the outlet of this blog, but tonight I want to focus on theatricality and the gift of expression.  I have been theatrical since - well - always.  It took me a while to fully foster this part of my personality and let it shine but the more I foster it the more in touch I feel with myself.  Dancing tonight I felt fully alive and fully me.

There are many Nia routines, each with a unique focus, and what I love most is that I get to explore sensation and different parts of myself in a variety of ways.  Each time I dance I get to know myself better.  Some days I dance and it allows me to go very deep and explore old pain and find healing.  Other days I explore power and precision in my movements.  Tonight I played.  Truly played like I did as a child - costumes, swirling, drama and all.