Published May 26, Sentinel Newspaper Young At Heart
by Peggy Pollard, Santa Cruz Waltz & Swing www.PeggyDance.weebly.com Thursday, April 28, 2022, Cooper Street, downtown Santa Cruz. “Dancing In the Streets” dance performance festival. 6:39 pm: Surrounded by a cheering audience, our six dancers took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage for our world premier dance performance. This was our great moment of glory for our small, newly formed band of Waltz & Swing performers. We were feeling good, I’d say, even great, on average. But as often happens in such events, our confidence only solidified a scant hour before performance time, when we finally got to rehearse for the first time as a complete group. REWIND to 5 pm: After weeks of planning and fretting, an hour before performance, our final rehearsal solidifies our dancing. First, because we look so dang GOOD, all dressed in sophisticated black and white. Then, dancing in a circle, we give each other visual cues. We each get swept into our group momentum. Ragged skills smooth out. Every repetition feels better and better. We relax into the music, channel it through our hands and feet. We are in a “State of Flow” just in time for peak performance. 5:59 pm: All last glitches are smoothed out. Our cloud of worries evaporates into relief and delight. But for two dancers the stress still lingers. Not only new at performing, they had only recently learned the basics of Waltz & Swing dance. One having only practiced online with a broom. But they trusted the rest of us seasoned performers, who calmly assured them it would all turn out OK. And just in time, it was all working. We walked over to Cooper Street stage. Waiting amongst the audience we giggled with nervous energy. Ready or not, it was time to show the world what we’ve got. There is something so scary about a stage. It is so . . . PUBLIC! There it was, the 20-foot square Marley dance flooring taped on the asphalt of Cooper Street. But it was not the empty gray space that was so scary. It was the boisterous throng of people crowded around it. Rows of children sitting cross-legged at the edge of the stage, gaggles of cheering teens, glowing after their performances of ballet, hip-hop, lyrical dances, for clusters of admiring parents and assorted street people. “Don’t worry” I reassured my dancers, surveying the crowd of 100 around us. ”No one will be watching us.” “Wwwhatttt??” Confused stares melted into giggles, as my joke sunk in. Haha. Their unspoken jitters were defused. This fear of public performance is powerful, hard to shake off. The nervous tension. The cold dread in the deep pit of your stomach. Vague fears lurk about of not only imperfection but a deeper foreboding of mysterious doom. Perhaps fear that your very worth as a person is under public scrutiny? Sounds a bit absurd when I write it out loud, though. doesn’t it? And yet, somehow that fear inhabits deep within many of us, robbing us of our joy of sharing beautiful things in public. Why is that fear so strong? Risk of humiliation – fear of public shame -- is deep and universal. In fact, it underlies the number one fear of most people worldwide--public speaking. According to Toastmasters, the international coaching program for public speaking skills, many people even fear public speaking more than even death itself! And what is dance, but a form of public speaking? Dancers communicate our messages through movement, as we were about to do on Cooper Street stage. So how can we be freed from this nagging, often exaggerated, fear? By tapping into an even deeper primal instinct -- our need to connect. The flip side of fear is trust. Joining with fellow humans in positive physical activities like dance, gives a wonderful sense of security. We feel safe when we feel valued, accepted, affirmed. No matter how skillful I am, (or not) it’s the fact of WHO I am dancing, that sparks my joy in social dancing. As I saw yesterday down in Cowells Cove -- the largest group of Brown Pelicans I’ve ever seen in the waters. A thousand birds floating, fluttering wings, skimming above undulating waves, diving into the water to scoop up mouthfuls of anchovies. Their choreography was rhythmic, sublime, each bird individually free to move as they please, yet held together in harmony, feasting on the abundant fish below. The Pelicans cared not one whit what I thought of them. No worrying “are we clever, cool or good enough?” No. They just moving in spectacular joy with waves, wind and water. Our public dancing likewise is our opportunity for glory. It wields a cultural power to touch other lives. Our heightened nerves are because we also know our performance will be recorded into public history, etched permanently into the psyche of our audience. 6:40 pm: Back on Cooper Street stage, we join hands and begin. First steps into the circle center. 1 – 2 – 3 – KICK! Anxiety melts into excitement. We see each other, feel each other’s hands bouncing swinging forward, slipping into a bigger group rhythm. Back out, lean forward, KICK! All turn left, raise arms up, pumping hands high to the sky. Glory Be! We are a dance team! 6:46 : I notice an older couple smiling on the sidelines, imitating our dance. Then another. Wow! Our dance joy is spreading. Not from impressive skills, but the joy we shine in dancing 6:49 pm: We bow to our cheering audience, feeling the joyful glory of dancing together, lifting each other up into higher strata of happiness than we can possibly reach on our own. So let us be like the Pelicans flowing together in their Pelican dance. Jump into the glory of dance with us and scoop up the bounty of joy into your life.
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published in SC Sentinel, May 26, byPeggy Pollard, Santa Cruz Waltz & Swing
Thursday, April 28, 2022: Cooper Street, downtown Santa Cruz. “Dancing In the Streets” dance performance festival. 6:39 pm: Surrounded by a cheering audience, our six dancers took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage for our world premier dance performance. This was our great moment of glory for our small, newly formed band of Waltz & Swing performers. We were feeling good, I’d say, even great, on average. But as often happens in such events, our confidence only solidified a scant hour before performance time, when we finally got to rehearse for the first time as a complete group. REWIND to 5 pm: After weeks of planning and fretting, an hour before performance, our final rehearsal solidifies our dancing. First, because we look so dang GOOD, all dressed in sophisticated black and white. Then, dancing in a circle, we give each other visual cues. We each get swept into our group momentum. Ragged skills smooth out. Every repetition feels better and better. We relax into the music, channel it through our hands and feet. We are in a “State of Flow” just in time for peak performance. 5:59 pm: All last glitches are smoothed out. Our cloud of worries evaporates into relief and delight. But for two dancers the stress still lingers. Not only new at performing, they had only recently learned the basics of Waltz & Swing dance. One having only practiced online with a broom. But they trusted the rest of us seasoned performers, who calmly assured them it would all turn out OK. And just in time, it was all working. We walked over to Cooper Street stage. Waiting amongst the audience we giggled with nervous energy. Ready or not, it was time to show the world what we’ve got. There is something so scary about a stage. It is so . . . PUBLIC! There it was, the 20-foot square Marley dance flooring taped on the asphalt of Cooper Street. But it was not the empty gray space that was so scary. It was the boisterous throng of people crowded around it. Rows of children sitting cross-legged at the edge of the stage, gaggles of cheering teens, glowing after their performances of ballet, hip-hop, lyrical dances, for clusters of admiring parents and assorted street people. “Don’t worry” I reassured my dancers, surveying the crowd of 100 around us. ”No one will be watching us.” “Wwwhatttt??” Confused stares melted into giggles, as my joke sunk in. Haha. Their unspoken jitters were defused. This fear of public performance is powerful, hard to shake off. The nervous tension. The cold dread in the deep pit of your stomach. Vague fears lurk about of not only imperfection but a deeper foreboding of mysterious doom. Perhaps fear that your very worth as a person is under public scrutiny? Sounds a bit absurd when I write it out loud, though. doesn’t it? And yet, somehow that fear inhabits deep within many of us, robbing us of our joy of sharing beautiful things in public. Why is that fear so strong? Risk of humiliation – fear of public shame -- is deep and universal. In fact, it underlies the number one fear of most people worldwide--public speaking. According to Toastmasters, the international coaching program for public speaking skills, many people even fear public speaking more than even death itself! And what is dance, but a form of public speaking? Dancers communicate our messages through movement, as we were about to do on Cooper Street stage. So how can we be freed from this nagging, often exaggerated, fear? By tapping into an even deeper primal instinct -- our need to connect. The flip side of fear is trust. Joining with fellow humans in positive physical activities like dance, gives a wonderful sense of security. We feel safe when we feel valued, accepted, affirmed. No matter how skillful I am, (or not) it’s the fact of WHO I am dancing, that sparks my joy in social dancing. As I saw yesterday down in Cowells Cove -- the largest group of Brown Pelicans I’ve ever seen in the waters. A thousand birds floating, fluttering wings, skimming above undulating waves, diving into the water to scoop up mouthfuls of anchovies. Their choreography was rhythmic, sublime, each bird individually free to move as they please, yet held together in harmony, feasting on the abundant fish below. The Pelicans cared not one whit what I thought of them. No worrying “are we clever, cool or good enough?” No. They just moving in spectacular joy with waves, wind and water. Our public dancing likewise is our opportunity for glory. It wields a cultural power to touch other lives. Our heightened nerves are because we also know our performance will be recorded into public history, etched permanently into the psyche of our audience. 6:40 pm: Back on Cooper Street stage, we join hands and begin. First steps into the circle center. 1 – 2 – 3 – KICK! Anxiety melts into excitement. We see each other, feel each other’s hands bouncing swinging forward, slipping into a bigger group rhythm. Back out, lean forward, KICK! All turn left, raise arms up, pumping hands high to the sky. Glory Be! We are a dance team! 6:46 : I notice an older couple smiling on the sidelines, imitating our dance. Then another. Wow! Our dance joy is spreading. Not from impressive skills, but the joy we shine in dancing 6:49 pm: We bow to our cheering audience, feeling the joyful glory of dancing together, lifting each other up into higher strata of happiness than we can possibly reach on our own. So let us be like the Pelicans flowing together in their Pelican dance. Jump into the glory of dance with us and scoop up the bounty of joy into your life. |
FOOT Notes from Teacher PeggyAuthorPeggy Pollard has been teaching social/ballroom dance in Santa Cruz since 2010. Archives
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