Transition time (again)

Home & away (Posted 2nd June)

It's been over three weeks since my last posting (oh dear - sounds like confession!) and although there's been a lot going on it doesn't feel like much has changed. I think a lot of this is down to my developing a sort of routine and sense of stability in my new home, the adrenaline rush of having so many things to set up & organise has faded but I've not quite gotten into taking the day to day stuff for granted so I can focus on upcoming Special Events. If that makes any sense. Of course there aren't yet many Special Events lined up in my future, which might have something to do with it.

Writing to a friend recently I put this in mythological terms - I have been active in the worlds of Shiva the Destructor (letting go of my old life in Findhorn) and Brahma the Creator (setting up my new home in Kent), now it's time to work with Vishnu the Preserver as I go from these one-off projects to something ongoing and sustainable. There's an obvious manifestation of Change when old things/ideas/aspects of ourself are discarded or new ones are acquired but change has to be a part of any sustainable system, otherwise it remains dependent on outside support to keep it going. There's an urban legend that every atom in a human body is replaced every seven years (I'm still trying to get some sort of scientific verification of this) which (if true) is a good example of the principle - the person is preserved while every component part goes through the cycle of creation and destruction. Sticking with this example it seems even more persuasive on a longer timeline, I can see the preserved 'me' despite the fact that I'm a completely changed person from my younger self. OK, there are some debatable points in there but I think it works for the subject at hand. Moving on...

On second thoughts I have more to say on this. Many years ago I read a couple of books on Greek Gods & Goddesses and how they could be viewed as aspects (archetypes?) of the human psyche (Gods in Everyman/Goddesses in Everywoman by Jean Shinoda Bolen). They're fascinating and illuminating (and highly recommended) but one of the things that stuck in my mind after reading them was a reappraisal of Hestia, goddess of the home and hearth. She'd never made much of an impact in my childhood reading of the Greek myths - she didn't have the superhero aspects that made the other denizens of Olympus so fascinating - but with a more mature eye I could see how her domain represented a large and often overlooked and undervalued part of life. A friend joked that she was 'The Goddess of Household Chores' and this seemed to sum up the nub of it, the work that needs to be done over & over and is never finished but without which everything would collapse into chaos. I've set up little Hestia altars in many of the places that I've lived in and have tried to perform my domestic housekeeping tasks with a sense of veneration for her - interesting to see just how difficult this is to (if you pardon the expression) sustain. Feels like a new Hestia statue will be next up on my shopping list.

There are another couple of objects that I intend to set up inside my front door. One is a Japanese hanging banner showing the Shichifukujin, the 'Seven Lucky Gods' - I've had this hanging at the doorway of all of my recent residences. The other is a beautiful nameplate for 'Curly Flat', the name I used for my flat in Findhorn village. This was handmade for me by a very dear friend when I was contemplating buying the flat there and although my plans changed I've held on to the name, wherever I end up living I'd like it to be 'Curly Flat'. The name itself comes from the writings of Michael Leunig, a wonderful Australian cartoonist, if you get the chance to read The Curly Pyjama Letters do so - it changed my life!

Despite the semblance of routine re-entering my life I have had some breaks from my habitual schedule. A couple of weeks ago I was off cross-country to teach a couple of dance workshops in Malvern and Cardiff, both places that I've taught at before - and well enough to be invited back! Both were day workshops, the scheduling of them back-to-back on the same weekend came from when I was living in Findhorn and combining two events in one trip kept the travelling costs down. Coming on the train from Kent was much easier (and cheaper) and having them on consecutive days made my social time with the organisers a bit rushed, in future I'll plan it differently and give myself more time outside of 'work'. But even with the constrained time together it was good to chat and catch up with old friends.

The workshops themselves went very well. It's been a while since I've taught day-long events and despite my years of experience the wobbles & uncertainties were present in abundance as I set about my preparations. How many dances should I go for? What should be the mix of fast/slow, easy/challenging, etc. etc. Most important of all - what should be the second dance? It's easy to decide on a starting dance, something to bring the group together (and to give me an idea of the level(s) of ability I'll be working with) but the second dance tends to set the tone of the workshop and can have a huge influence on how the participants approach the rest of the day. Too easy and it can drift into a purely social gathering, too difficult and many dancers will switch off and decide it's too much for them, at that point you have their (relatively) open and unbiased attention and if you can lead, coax & chivvy them along you can achieve something special together.

In the end I went for Sitno Malishevsko, a 'medium to fast' dance that starts off fairly simply but has some tricky footwork in there too. The group rose to the challenge and from there we went on to my usual eclectic collection of dances, featuring odd and unusual rhythms, interesting step sequences and, unusually for me, lots of arm movements. Someone once described the content of my workshops as "Andy teaches easy dances with difficult steps" which feels like a fair (and catchy) assessment - by making people learn unfamiliar movements it focusses their attention on how they're moving and (hopefully) encourages them to actually dance, and by using unusual rhythms & a variety of songs they need to really listen to the music and move in relation to it. That's the theory... and it seems to work in practice too! The dancing at both workshops went really well and at the end there was lots of positive and enthusiastic praise from the participants. An excellent way to spend the weekend.

After a long break from dancing (I stepped out of teaching at Findhorn in November) it was wonderful to get back into it again and I'm determined to find more opportunities, both as a teacher and as a simple participant. Leading more workshops would be great (if you'd like to invite me send an email!) but I feel the need to find and join ongoing local (in the broadest sense) groups and plug in to the dance world in my new home, to see what's around and make myself known.

Taking stock (Posted 5th May)

It's now been a month since I moved to Maidstone and now that the dust is beginning to settle I find myself assessing just where I've gotten to. It's been a strange month - camping in an empty flat while slowly acquiring essentials, the deluge of possessions old & new arriving on the same day, finding my way in a new job and a new town, the forced inactivity of my sickness and the contrast of the tribal socialising at the Gathering with my solitary new home life. But it feels like the chaos of change is gently easing into some sort of order and regularity and I'm managing to look beyond the next day and starting to see a wider perspective emerging.

I don't know if it's just a natural downturn after the stresses of the past month but I'm not looking at my current position with much approval. (And my iPod agrees - as I type the Sex Pistols are telling me that The problem is you!) Although I've managed to set the flat up pretty well I'm finding it hard to finish the process off, my DIY self-confidence shrinks at the prospect of putting up shelves & putting in picture hooks and the mechanics of shopping from Ikea without a car seem hopelessly insurmountable. I have ideas for plants and decorations but can't seem to find a way of getting them done. Sigh!

Work has been a challenge too. I was worried about having drifted out of touch with modern programming but the reality has been completely the opposite - the things I'm being asked to do are so old that I can barely remember them and I'm spending hours ploughing through old manuals and reference books. As a result I'm not being very productive which is professionally unsatisfying and a bit worrying - I'm on a three-month probationary period and don't feel that I'm putting forward a good case for myself. I've spoken with my boss and he's reassured me that they're happy with my work but I remain nervous of what the final judgement will be.

But my main disappointment has been not managing to start on any sort of social contact. I had all sorts of plans - evening classes, dance groups, Quaker meeting, cycling clubs, finding other musicians, getting to know my neighbours - but so far none of it has come to pass, leaving me increasingly isolated in my (increasingly comfortable) hermitage. My external correspondence is blooming and there's not been a day when I haven't been emailing, texting or phoning friends from all over the country but on a local level I can't seem to get myself started.

I'm trying to be kind to myself and remember that it's still early days and that establishing a new social circle takes work and time. But still a nervousness remains, I know how easily I can slip into my own little world and the longer I stay there the scarier the outside world becomes. In some ways writing it down like this is a way of bullying myself into action, laying out the prospect of a lonely, solitary life as an Ominous Warning of the perils of inaction. Cruel to be kind, of course.

The Easter Gathering (Posted 29th April)

Every Easter the UK Circle Dance network hold the Gathering, a get-together for teachers, musicians and other dancers where we exchange dances, discuss the hot topics of the moment and generally reconnect with our peers. More organised than a party, less formal than a conference. Over the years I'd somehow drifted from being one of the rebels and troublemakers into working with the organisers, to the point of becoming one of the core group in 2010, a role I was continuing in this year. Seduced by the Establishment! Luckily the rest of the team were also freethinkers & radicals and we got on together really well, both socially and as working partners. Despite a few wobbly moments with the Guardian Angels (the national organising committee, the real Establishment) I'd been looking forward to the event for quite a while.

However my Big Transition, followed by my Vile Illness, had disrupted my preparations drastically. I was in two minds about whether to go at all when I heard that another member of the team had dropped out through ill health, just a couple of days before the event. What to do? In the end I decided that I was well enough to make a contribution and I should see if the Healing Powers Of Dance would aid my recovery, so I packed a supply of cough medicine & painkillers along with my dance shoes and set off.

The weekend (the Gathering runs from Friday to Monday) went exceptionally well. We were at a new venue - a boarding school just outside Leicester - but there were no horrible surprises and the staff there were (mostly) helpful and unobtrusive. Several of the participants stepped in to help fill in for our missing organiser and the structure we'd established last year held and supported the event to run smoothly and easily. The sessions ran well, things kept to the timetable and the feedback sheets were overwhelmingly positive.

I had some interesting challenges to face. For a start I felt very unprepared, a situation I really don't like finding myself in and, despite all the Good Reasons, one that tends to push all my inadequacy and self-blame buttons. I'm used to being a 'big presence' at the Gathering, doing lots of teaching & focalising, but this time I only had energy for a much lower profile. I still taught a few dances but generally kept in the background in a much more supporting role. And for many years I've been a very active member of the 'Philosophy Club', a late night discussion group fuelled by copious amounts of red wine, but this year I had to retire to my bed early each night, a sad loss.

Having less energy (and needing to dash out for coughing fits every now & again) made me much more attentive to my responsibilities. I generally work pretty well 'on the fly' and can cope with unexpected twists & turns but this time I found myself spending more time preparing for sessions and making sure I had everything I might need well in advance - both for myself and for whoever was teaching or leading. A little less spontaneous but much easier on the worry muscles. I found myself monopolising the 'DJ' role (despite offers to share the job) and using my systems skills to smooth out the technical problems - primarily dealing with identical iPods, wildly differing MP3 players, barely labelled CDs and an audio file on a USB stick, making sure that the right music played at a good volume when each teacher asked for it. This is the sort of job I love, dealing with all the fiddly stuff so that someone else can concentrate fully on their work. Very satisfying, especially as I was thanked at the end of each session so I could see that my contribution was valued and appreciated, no risk of sinking into invisibility.

In hindsight I did push myself a bit much over the weekend - my cough was back with a vengeance for the next few days and I found myself falling into bed in mid-evening - but it was very rewarding to find how much I was able to achieve in a 'low profile' way and to reconnect with my dance tribe. The team will be back at the same venue next year and I shall endeavour to find a middle way between this years 'quiet' role and my usual brash assertiveness. We'll see.

A moment of clarity (Posted 20th April)

Tuesday had dawned and I had resigned myself to another day off work as my body's defences continued their brave stand against the viral invasion force. I was still feeling weak & a bit wobbly but it was a bright, sunny day outside and I felt sure that being out in the Healthy Goodness of Nature would be good for me, so after the morning's bout of clearing and redistribution of my bodily secretions I packed a light lunch, fired up my trusty iPod and headed off to Moat Park.

Despite my enfeebledness I thought I'd continue with the exploration of my new manor so instead of planning a route to the park I wandered in its general direction, only resorting to the street atlas when I felt I might be drifting too far askew. My general sense of direction is pretty good and although most of the roads were new to me I soon found myself at one of the park entrances.

This particular gate was at one of the highest points in the park and as I came in I found a swathe of woodland and meadow spread out before me, rich and verdant under the golden sun. The central lake could just be made out through the trees while a thin haze veiled the urban surroundings. Just at this point The Universal by Blur came on in my iPod and I was transported to another world.

Music is so subjective and personal (at least for me) that it's hard to put into words just how this song moved me. A bald reading of the lyrics doesn't begin to scratch the surface and there are so many ways to interpret them - in the past I'd often thought of it as a song about the distopia of modern-day life - but in the spirit of adventure here's what was going through my mind:

'The Universal' is said to be free and here for everyone and as I gazed around I felt it as the wonder, delight & beauty of the world, just there, waiting to be enjoyed. A line about karaoke (really!) says how we like to sing along, though the words are wrong, it became a celebration of the willingness to engage with others, seeking joy rather than perfection. Every paper that you read says tomorrow's your lucky day. Well, here's your lucky day was a reminder that all of this Good Stuff is here, now, and doesn't need to be worked or waited for. Then there's a line that gets repeated and repeated, it really, really, really could happen, which filled me with a sense of positive optimism, so much was possible in this world, more than I could ever imagine. And finally when the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go, the great release, all of this is possible but it's not compulsory or even necessary, let it go, enjoy the moment and don't worry about anything beyond that. As the song swirled to its orchestral finale I raised my arms and embraced the world, released, refreshed and reminded that it's all good.

I guess you had to be there.

It was a beautiful day to be in the park and as I completed a full circuit of the lake I added the indulgence of a Magnum (a choc-ice, not a large bottle of champagne). Although that great flash of awareness (enlightenment?) slowly faded, especially as my cough started up again, the essence of it remains with me and brings me a smile, even as work, sickness & busyness start to chip away at my serene oneness. It seems to me that a large part of The Human Condition boils down to not being able to remember these transcendant moments, I feel blessed that they are still there for me.

For my earlier postings click here.