Category: Bellydancing

When Trish and Callie asked me if I’d like to learn to Bellydance while balancing a sword on my head, I didn’t hesitate.

They seemed as genuinely happy to have a third person join them as I was to try it.  I’d already worked with balancing a basket and found it was great for my posture and for keeping my head from moving with the rest of my body.  Something I never thought too much about but is crucial when dancing.

Tying the turban was the first thing I learned.  There needs to be some padding between the head and the sword.  And although there is a notch for the sword to balance in, it in no way holds the sword stable.

It just gives a little support.

I have to admit I felt powerful dancing with a sword on my head and was extra careful, and moved very slowly.  A sword falling off my head is very different than a basket.

I loved practicing, but with our upcoming performances at The Bennington Pride Parade on June 25th (the parade starts at noon in downtown Bennington) and at the John G McCollough Free  Library in North Bennington, on Wednesday, July 5th at 7:30 pm, I’m busy enough getting to know the music we’ll be dancing to.

But Trish and Callie have been practicing dancing with their swords and will be performing together on both dates.

Kathleen is shaking the spiders out of the Bennington Beledi Bellydancing Banner (I’ve never seen it) that we’ll be carrying at the parade and the kids of some of the dancers will be joining us too.

I’m still not sure when and where we’ll be performing after we march, but I’ll let you know when I do.

I hope if anyone out there lives nearby, you’ll come to watch.  Both my teachers, Julz and Kathleen will be performing together.   It’s been years since they’ve been able to do that because of work schedules and the pandemic.  And Emily, dancer, baker, and artist, who makes all those wonderful Appreciation Cards for the Army of Good will of course be dancing too.

Okay, I have to go, I’m still practicing putting on my stage makeup and it’s almost time for me to leave for class.

Sometimes I’ll look at one of my sister belly dancers when we are dancing and I see an image from my Language of the Goddess book.  It’s a reproduction of a drawing on a piece of pottery of a woman with her arm circled over her head, her body holding a pose.

It’s easy to see the goddess in the women I dance with.  Bellydancing is one of the oldest dance forms so it’s no wonder that the people who perform it today are reaching back through time.

Two weeks ago Julz, my teacher and friend, showed me how to use an eyebrow pencil.  Something I’ve never done before. I’m learning how to use makeup for our upcoming performances.

Everyone is willing to help.   When the eyebrow pencil I bought made me look like Martin Scorsese, Trish brought me a lighter shade that she had at home.

Trish told me that when she got promoted a co-worker let her know that if she wanted the men in the office to take her seriously she had to wear makeup.  Ever since then, she thinks of her makeup as war paint. 

I get that.

She, like the other women in my class, talk about how they wear makeup for themselves, not for other people.   It does something for them. That’s the same reason I put on earrings in the morning and think about what I’m wearing, even though most days,  Jon is the only person to see me.

I do it because it makes me feel good.

So along with practicing dancing, each week before class I practice putting on my performance makeup.  And each week I get another helpful tip from the experts.

I never wore make-up. I wasn’t allowed to at the age most girls start wearing it.  After that, I lost interest.  Now I see it as another part of my costuming for Bellydanicng.

After getting over my initial anxiety about having stuff on my face I became curious about the artistry of it.  It’s kind of like wearing a bra (which I rarely do).  After a while, I get used to it and sometimes it gives me more confidence.  Like I have protection between me and the rest of the world.

Which makes me think about what Kathleen, who has been dancing for over 25 years, told me last week about performing.

I’m still uncomfortable leading the dance and will often rush through the moves.  I do the same thing when I tell a story.  I rush through it thinking no one really wants to hear what I have to say.

Kathleen said that when I’m dancing  I had to believe in myself the same way I believe in a piece of my art that I put out into the world.   What I want to be saying with my body is, ” I don’t care if you look at me or not, but I am worth looking at.”    I’m dancing because I want to and I’m good at it.

It’s that kind of attitude that I saw in the Bennington Beledi Bellydancers that made me want to learn to belly dance more than six years ago.

“Fake it until you make it,” Julz says.

I’ve always felt comfortable in the long skirts and jewelry, but it took me a while to adjust to showing my belly.  Now when I dress up in my belly dancing clothes, I feel strong and beautiful.  It is a shield in a way and I can imagine the makeup playing the same part.

It might be just what I need to put between me and the world, while I’m still faking it.

And I have a  feeling that eventually if I keep at it,  I will “make it“.  Because sometimes when I  see myself in the mirror during dance class, I think I look like that illustration of the dancing woman in my Goddess book too.

One two-three four   five/six   Seven.  Eight.   I counted to myself, my right foot, hip, and arms moving to the numbers.  Seven turned me halfway around and Eight set me up to start again, on the left foot this time.

I was in Bellydancing class last night practicing a new move ( I can’t remember the name) something I’d learned the week before.

Last week I couldn’t get my left foot to do what I wanted it to and my arms weren’t cooperating either.

But I’d been working on it all week at home, moving so slowly,  anyone watching would not have suspected I was dancing.

I’d practice while throwing the ball for Fate, at odd moments in my studio,  while I was waiting for the tea water to boil, or while the animal’s water bucket was filling up.

And then it happened, as I’ve learned it always does.  What I couldn’t do a moment ago, I suddenly can.

Muscle memory Kathleen always says.  Once your muscles learn what to do, you don’t have to think about it anymore.

Trish looked at me and smiled.  “You’re doing it,”  she said.

Trish remembered that I couldn’t do this move last week.  And she looked as pleased that I’d learned as I felt. I did it a few more times, appreciating her reaction.  I didn’t know that Kathleen had seen too.  But I knew she was paying attention because when we danced together she threw the move.

It’s just this kind of thing that makes me love our Bellydancing Class.  That kind of looking out for each other, being happy for each other, and helping and supporting each other.

I do it now too when I can.  Making sure the new students have the best spot so they can see Julz when she’s teaching. Or passing on one of the tricks for doing a move better which  I’d learned was helpful for me.

The last fifteen minutes of class we usually spend drilling a new move,  practicing balancing a basket or sword on our head, or just dancing together.

But last night we sat in a circle on the floor and Julz emptied a big bag of belly dancing jewelry in the center.

Julz found the jewelry when she was cleaning out her basement.  “Whatever you don’t take,” she told us, “I’m throwing out. I’m not bringing it back home.”

Kids in a candy store, a slumber part with your very best friends.  That’s what it felt like.

Just like when Emily helped me with my makeup last week, I was finally experiencing those things that teenagers often do and I never had.

“Someone else should have this,” Callie said holding out a blue choker, “I already have one like it.” It looked perfect with Emily’s royal blue velvet choli.   Kathleen told us how to make an elastic sleeve to hold the eight-inch long brass cuff bracelets.  And Trish said she would make a fabric backing for the brass necklace, made of small tarnished squares, so the green wouldn’t rub off on her skin.

By the end of class, we all had a pile of jewelry in front of us.  I took anything that had fabric attached to it.

“I guess I’ll throw these out,” Julz said as she filled a little bag with tiny miscellaneous beads and odd bits of broken jewelry.

I added the bag to my collection.

In July we’ll have two performances.  We’ve had more new students come to class in the past six months than since I first started dancing.  It feels like a shift is happening.  Like belly dancing has been out of favor and it’s coming back again.

In July I’ll have been Bellydancing for six years. I’m a world better than when I began, but I still have so much to learn.  That’s one of the wonderful things about it though, there is always more to learn.

I didn’t practice balancing a sword on my head in Bellydancing class last week.  But I did something just as exotic to me.  I learned how to put on make-up for our Bellydancing performances.

“I’m bringing you some makeup today! Maybe if we’re both there early I can give you some tips” Emily texted me before class.

The week before our teacher Julz said we’d be practicing putting on makeup for our upcoming performances.  (June 25th at the Pride Parade in Bennington VT and July 5th at the North Bennington Library at 7:30)

I had the feeling she was talking directly to me since I’m the only one who doesn’t know how to do it.  I was happy to hear it.  When I danced in the past I always had the feeling I looked more like a clown than a dancer.

Emily and I met in the parking lot and walked up the two flights of stairs in the old factory.  It’s an imposing Victorian brick building that has been divided up into large rooms with high ceilings and huge windows.  We dance in a fitness room with a wall of mirrors and a large reception area and separate rooms for the Massage therapists who also work in the space.

Emily held out a pink, orange, and white makeup bag.  “This is for you”, she said, “it’s make-up I haven’t used that I think will suit your skin color.”

Then we began.

Emily being an artist and knowing I am ignorant when it comes to make-up explained the process in words that would make sense to me.

She handed me a tube of makeup and told me to spread it on my face as if it were sunscreen.  “We’re trying to make your face a blank canvas,” she said.  As I spread the makeup all over my face I pictured myself brushing gesso on a raw canvas.  Creating a smooth surface without any inconsistencies.

Next the concealer, then a little powder, (just a dusting poured into the cap and applied lightly with a little powder puff).   The eye makeup came after that.  Emily talked me through it as she dabbed the makeup on my eyelid with her fingertip.

First the light eye shadow.  Then a darker one from the crease in the eyelid down, on the outer part of the lid, leaving the area around the tear duct bare.

Instead of using eyeliner, she used a little brush to apply some of the darker eye shadow under my eyelid starting in the middle of the eye to the outer corner.  Again none towards the tear duct.

“Wait, let me write this down,” I said and got the little sketch pad from my bag.

Next, she swooped some dark blush on my cheekbones, making them pop.  “Now the coral blush,” she said, ‘like apples on your cheeks.” And a touch on the tip of my nose.

“Color both lips with the lipliner,” Emily told me as she filled in my lips.  Then she handed me a darker lipstick and I put it on my lower lip, as instructed, pressing my lips together.  It worked!  There wasn’t a smudge of lipstick out of place.

Last comes the shimmer, which gives light and sparkle in the space between the eyes…and….someplace else?

Now I can’t remember, maybe on the side of the eyes too?  And more powder at the very end?

Good questions to bring to class tonight.

Julz said I looked great in makeup, she never saw my cheekbones before.   She suggested I add a touch of water to the eyeshadow to keep it from running when I sweat.  Kathleen reminded me to step back from the mirror when I looked at myself.  “That’s how the audience will see you, from a distance.”

Emily gave me all the makeup I need except an eyebrow pencil. ” Julz can help you with that,” she said, just get a color that matches your eyebrows.”

I couldn’t thank Emily enough.  She said she thought it would be helpful for me to learn the basics.  Even just buying makeup when I didn’t have an idea of how it was supposed to be used and what it was supposed to look like was difficult.  I guess it’s the kind of thing you have to learn by doing,   and I didn’t have to do it enough to learn.

Emily was great at choosing the right colors for me too.  Another thing I couldn’t have navigated without a lot of trial and error. And she gave me a mess of free makeup in that sweet makeup bag.

When I got home from class I texted Emily and thanked her again inviting her to lunch, on me.

She was paying it forward she told me.  “I’m still grateful to my dance friend for helping me.”

Which of course made me wonder if someday I too might be able to help a fellow dancer with their makeup.

In just a little while I’ll leave for my Belly dancing class.  I would have thought I’d be tired from my walk in the woods, but it’s just the opposite. I’m full of energy.

I’ll get there a little early and meet with Emily who is bringing me some make-up.  “I can give you some quick tips” she texted me.

We have two appearances coming up this summer.  At the North Bennington Library and at the Pride Parade in Bennington Vermont. (I don’t remember the dates for either right now).

I’m useless when it comes to putting on makeup.

The only time I’ve worn it is for our Bellydancing performances and I look more like a clown with my bright red lips, pale face, and black eyeliner.  So I’m glad for any help I can get.  I don’t understand the mechanics of make-up although I’ve had it explained to me more than once.

Tonight I will also be learning to dance while balancing a sword on my head. I did it for the first time last week and not only did it help my posture greatly, but it was very cool too.  (I’ll try to get a picture of it.  Julz took a few of my last week, but I  had a goofy look on my face, too goofy not to delete).

So I’m off and will be back in my studio tomorrow after Jon’s early morning visit to his foot surgeon.  Where we both hope he will be liberated to wearing regular shoes again so he can begin walking anew.

I don’t know who started it.  

There were seven of us standing in a big circle getting ready to practice zilling.  Julz was looking for the right song on her iPhone and suddenly we were in a conversation about body image and weight. 

A couple of the women who have young daughters talked about how they never spoke negatively about their own weight or food in front of their kids. Someone else said how when she was in school the other girls always talked about being “too fat” but she wouldn’t join in.  “I was always a feminist,” she told us. 

As I listened I felt myself being drawn back in time to my childhood. I didn’t want to bring up what I was thinking, I wanted to leave it in the past where it lived. But it was almost as if I were in a trance, overwhelmed by the feelings of a lifetime. 

“Every day my father would call my mother from work and ask if she did her sit-ups,” I said. 

The amazing thing was that I didn’t have to say another thing.  Everyone understood the impact of it.

But I had fallen into the dark hole of my past.  I was in the living room where I grew up listening to that daily phone conversation between my mother and father.  Then a voice broke through and I heard someone ask, “Why didn’t she tell him to mine his own business?” and another voice, “or go fuck himself?”

“No,” I said quietly from a distance, “she never did, she couldn’t.”

That’s when Julz looked up from her phone and as if declaring a well-known truth announced, “Some guys just can’t hold their arsenic.”

Then she started singing… “ he had it coming, he had it coming…” And Kathleen, who was standing next to Julz, sang with her…

….”So that night when I came home from work I fixed him his drink like usual. You know, some guys just can’t hold their arsenic.  He had it coming, he had it coming.  He only had himself to blame….”

I imagine I laughed, maybe too loud. But I don’t really know.   What I do remember is that while they sang, it seemed to me that they were surrounded by a glowing green light, and between them, they were stirring a pot, or was it a caldron?

Whatever was really going on, they broke the spell I was in.  

Suddenly I was back in the moment, back in our Bellydancing class and part of a circle with seven other women wearing long skirts and cholis, with bare bellies and bare feet, while Julz and Kathleen sang an incantation from a Broadway musical that shook me from a memory which has plagued me my whole life. 

This all took place four days ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it. 

The thing is, something changed for me that night when Julz’s response to my memory was to invoke those magic words.

My first thought was to wish I had grown up around women like this.  Women who knew their own power.  But then I knew that didn’t matter anymore.  I had gotten myself to a better place.  

I now surround myself with women who are strong enough to stand up for themselves.  Who do not tolerate being controlled.  And I am one of them. 

For the past four days, when I think of that daily phone conversation between my mother and father, which is really a symbol of the dynamic that I was taught a marriage should be like, I no longer cringe.  

Instead, I hear those magic words, “some guys just can’t hold their arsenic” and depending on my mood, I either smile a knowing smile or cackle.

(The song Julz and Kathleen sang was Cell Block Tango from the play Chicago,  You can see it here.)

We stood in a circle facing in.  Julz led us in Gratitude, a dance we do at the beginning of every class and performance.  It’s a way of giving thanks to each other, our teachers, the music, and space we dance in.

Then, when Gratitude was done and the music continued, Julz kept leading us in improvised dance.  After a few moves, she looked at Kathleen who was to her left and Kathleen picked up the lead.  We worked our way around the circle passing the lead to the person next to us until the song ended.

We didn’t plan this, we didn’t talk about it. This is not how we change the lead when we dance, yet we all knew what to do.

How did we know?

I can only say that it speaks to our connection to each other. That we have learned to listen to each other without words and to trust that we will be heard.

This is how we communicate when we dance.  Not with words, but with our eyes and our bodies.  With lifted eyebrows or a hard stare, an exaggerated shift in the shoulder or a turn of the head.

And this is how we began our Hafla last night in my Bellydancing Class.   Our yearly celebration, where we dance, eat and dance some more.

In the past, we’ve had Hafla’s where we practice dancing to certain songs or invite other dancers and family to join us.  But this was the most casual Hafla I’ve been to in the five and a half years I’ve been dancing.

And it made me realize that my feelings about Bellydancing have changed.

Instead of being nervous and worrying about what I was doing wrong, last night I just enjoyed dancing.  I had fun. I wanted to dance every chance I got. And when I wasn’t dancing I was standing on the side watching and Zilling.

It’s as if in the past few months, I’ve come to see that I really can learn to dance.  That I can continue to get better and better. But it’s more than just my ability.  It’s my attitude that has changed.  I now understand that dance is a part of me.  An important piece, that I’d been missing most of my life, that makes me whole.

Last night when Julz put on a playlist and asked who wanted to dance, I was the first one to step up.  And I took the lead.

Soon there were four of us, Emily, Callie, Trish, and me.  I didn’t think of it at the time, but the idea that I could dance comfortably with those three women, not afraid to make mistakes, and really enjoy it was unprecedented for me. (click here to see a short video where I do make a mistake)

At one point Julz and Kathleen showed us a new fusion of Bellydancing and Tango that they’ve been working on.  Then Emily and Julz danced to a song they only recently realized they both loved.

In between, we snacked on Emily’s homemade parmesan and black pepper sourdough bread and Julz’s mini gluten-free cheesecake cupcakes.

At the end of the night, I wondered out loud what it was about Bellydancing that always made me feel so good, that made us all come back week after week, year after year.

I thought that maybe it was in the way we moved.  But everyone had their own ideas.

I don’t remember who said what but we all agreed that it came from working together and creating something new each time we danced. That the dance is collaborative, the leaders constantly changing, and understanding that we need to work together to make us all look good. This means we have to leave a certain amount of our egos behind. There’s no showing off to make someone else look bad.

And when we take the lead, we trust that the people who are behind us, who we often can’t see, will follow. Trust is a big part of it.  We couldn’t dance the way we do without trust.

I do remember Julz specifically saying that dance is in our genes. “When the men went out the hunt” she said, ” the women would dance.  They danced as they walked to the stream to get fill up jugs of water. It’s what they did.”

When I got home I told Jon about the night.

That’s when it came to me that our conversation was just like our dancing.  We all listened and got a chance to say what we felt, and what we were thinking.  One idea led to another until we felt we understood why we were all there together.

Last night’s Hafla was very special.

Maybe it had something to do with the Winter Solstice.  I have no doubt that women have danced together through the ages on this longest night.  Perhaps we tapped into that.  But Solstice or not, it wouldn’t have happened without each of us who was there. Each of us dedicated to the dance and each other.

Julz told me that Bellydancing saved her life.  I know what she means even though our circumstances are different.

Bellydancing brings me back to myself.   Or as Jon says, it’s who I really am. It’s still hard for me to believe that sometimes, but it’s getting even harder for me not to believe it.

“We believe ATS is an evocative dance form that can be practiced and enjoyed by everybody—no matter their size, age, or ability.” Bennington Beledi Tribal Bellydancing Vision Statement

Something has shifted.  We all felt it.  It happened during our dance performance at the Bennington Museum.  But Julz said it started earlier when Emily told us all about the ballet she saw.

“They were all older women, some dressed as vegetables,”  Emily told us during one of our classes.  It was not what she expected when she went to see the Farm to Ballet Project. But as they danced, she picked up on their energy, on how much fun they were having dancing together.   “That’s what we need to do,” she told us, “we need to have fun and the audience will feel it and enjoy it too.”

Last night in our Bellydancing class six new students showed up. That’s three times as many new students as we’ve had since I started dancing five years ago.

I’m sure my mouth was hanging open as the first two people showed up then four more wandered in.  At first, we were all a bit stunned, but then we made sure to welcome the new students as they came into the class.  To try to make them feel comfortable being there from the very beginning.

The people who showed up were all around my age and of a variety of body types.

One of the wonderful things about having new students in the class is that it helps me to learn in ways I wouldn’t without them.

Seeing new students dance I can see how much I really do know.

Last night as we stood in a circle getting ready to practice zilling, Julz was letting the new students know that it takes time to learn to zill.  “I couldn’t even step to a beat when I first started dancing” I told the group, “and they didn’t kick me out.”

After that, a little miracle happened.  I learned that I had been doing floreros wrong.

Floreros are the simple but important hand movements that we use often.  All this time I’ve been using my fingers instead of my wrists to make the movement.  As Kathleen explained floreros to Amy, who has been dancing with us for about six months, she told me I could benefit from the lesson too.

All along I had been joyfully dancing with my fingers through the air, but what I really needed to be doing was keep my fingers relaxed and let them naturally follow the movement of my wrist.

Basically, I was doing more than I had to and making it harder on myself.

This idea came back again as class went on.  With all the moves I’m trying too hard, doing too much.     It probably comes from my fear of doing something wrong.  But once I understood that I needed to loosen up and trust my body, I could relate it.

I’ve experienced it before with my writing.

It’s the same advice Jon gave me years ago when I was having a hard time writing.  He told me to trust my writing the same way I trust that when I start making a quilt it will work out.

I need to relax into dancing, the same way I let go and allow my art to happen.

Our teachers, Julz and Kathleen always say we can listen to and watch a dance lesson a hundred times but we won’t “get” it until we’re ready.

I feel like last night I learned something I haven’t been able to hear before.  And I think having the new students in the class helped because I was able to experience what Kathleen was telling Amy and me as if I were learning it for the first time.

That shift that I feel happening around our Bellydancing Class has affected me personally too.

I feel different about dancing, and its place in my life.  Like I’m shedding my fears of inadequacy so I can let go and enjoy dancing as I haven’t been able to before.

I won’t get in my studio today.  Jon has an appointment with his Retina specialist and I’ll be driving him.  The doctor is in Albany so it’s a long drive and they do so many tests on his eyes and sometimes even laser surgery.

He can barely see when it’s all done.

For the first time since Covid began I’ll be able to go into the office with Jon.  The past couple of years I waited outside the building, taking walks, videos, drawing, and blogging.  I imagine I’ll get to do a drawing while in the waiting room.  If I have time I’ll post it from the office using my iPhone.

The appointments usually take a couple of hours, so we’ll be getting home and I’ll be running off to my Bellydancing Class with no time to blog again.

This is our first Bellydancing class since our performance and I’m looking forward to dancing again.

Julz sent me a text this morning saying we can wear leggings and practice clothes again because we all know we can dance in costuming. (We wore our long skirts and pantaloons to class a couple of months before the performance to get us used to dancing in our costumes)

The video of the first set from our performance is pretty popular, I’ve gotten almost 700 views of it already.  I can’t post it on my blog but if you’d like to see it just click here.

We begin the set with Gratitude, a dance/prayer where we express our thanks to the music, the space, and each other for being there.  It’s very grounding to do and creates positive and connecting energy between us and within the space where we are dancing.

I always find it very powerful and I know the women I dance with feel the same way.