THE COMEBACK

Oh, brother, a year, 2 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days after my last post…

2011 was supposed to be all about my return to flamenco, but did that ever fall flat. Financial woes, three moves to two apartments in Koreatown including a stint in a motel while we waited for our current apartment to be ready, finding new health insurance, getting our 5-year-old proper care for his Type 1 diabetes and then registering him for kindergarten – but finding the right school first – then taking on a full-time teaching load at two colleges… flamenco was forced to take a back seat to “real” life.

Even though the things that needed to get done got done, even though I have enjoyed my “day job” as an anatomy and human biology professor (which is also a night job because I teach an evening class twice a week), even though I experienced some amazingly joyful and proud moments with each of my four kids… there has been a melancholy that has laced my internal landscape during most of my “alone” time. This deep sadness began when an old friend found me through a mutual old friend who had friended me on facebook – did you follow that? – and I was forced to question every single decision I have made since my sophomore year in college.

I tried so many methods to get my head back into the present – meditation, yoga, breathing exercises, visualizations, reciting mantras, writing cathartic letters, and plain old doing fun things that I like – but I couldn’t shake this self-generated torture. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure each of these methods works for other people. Just not me. Then, as this semester started, I started working out in the spectacular rooftop gym in my building; at least, I’m no longer a cardiovascular train wreck.

It wasn’t until I opened a not-so-silly fortune cookie that read, “Adding some art into your life will make you happier,” that I Woke. Up. Duh. I started a screenwriting project. So far I’ve got 6 motivated and talented people on board to turn it into a reality. Happy! Then I set up a theatre show on the site of the legendary Cocoanut Grove Lounge through the principal of my son’s school. Happy! I told my evening anatomy class about this show; it’s scheduled for the fall of this year. Still happy! One of the students – a house dancer himself – asked me if I was in training for the show. Uh, oh. Why am I not training?! Not so happy.

Happiness came back big time when I added flamenco movement practice to my gym workout the very next day and then taught my first new private student in 3 years that weekend.  I must say, first, there is no weight machine that can match the exercises required to build the flamenco posture. Second, there is no activity that brings me closer to my emotional center than this dance form.

After a few sessions of movement and core work only, I made myself a portable little wood floor that I can bring with me up to the gym. I’ve been working on footwork. It’s still clean, crisp. Just have to rebuild my speed and remember all the wonderfully complex combinations, but I’m OK with the process. I’m happy with the process. There’s that word “happy” again.

What is “happy”? I still have to handle the parade of problems that life continues to dole out. I still have to overcome the beast that is my own regret-filled mind. Maybe “happy” is not the goal. Maybe the goal is something that I saw the other day when I looked over at my full-length profile in the mirror in the middle of a combination. My intention was to visually check on my posture and make the necessary minute adjustments that I had trained myself to make after years of being corrected by some of the best choreographers on the planet. But what I was surprised to see – was my Self.

There it all was, under the sweat  and the layers of workout clothes and the bad hair: the strength that had been squelched, the confidence that had been toppled, and the sheer beauty that had been buried under my life stripped of its defining artform – the breathtaking expression of What Is Real that every flamenco dancer possesses when he or she is truly in the moment. It was all back, in that instant. And I saw it.

Thank you, Flamenco. And welcome back, everyone, to juergablog.