11/16/07 Learning To Go With The Flow

Somebody asked me last night what I would do with my evenings once I graduated from school. Without being in class for 6 hours a week, the hours between 5pm and bedtime would suddenly be brimming with opportunity. Since I've still got another semester and mini-term to go, I can honestly say that I hadn't really thought about it. My head ran through several options, like "Get into a regular exercise program" or "Write the next great American novel" or "Volunteer for a good cause" or "Learn a second language".

My head thought all of that, but my mouth said:

Belly dancing.

Okay, so it might surprise you that the first thing I plan to do after getting my MBA is to become a belly dancer. Not professionally, mind you. Just for fun.

A couple of years ago, the gym I belonged to held a belly dancing class, and I thought it might be a good way to learn how to move with grace and control. (Ya'll aren't going to believe this, but sometimes I can be a little clumsy. I have a tendency to smash into walls and stuff. You're shocked, I know).

I signed on for a couple of months with the beginning belly dancing class. My instructor was a willowy woman with a 70's flower-child voice and belly dance garb. I'm pretty sure her name was Moonbeam. It was like I Dream of Genie meets magic mushrooms.

I watched the instructor talk about learning to isolate each muscle group, and control movement so that only the set of muscles that you were working on moved. (Belly dancing is a crazy good workout for your core muscles). She took us through a few simple steps and then turned on the music so that we could "flow" with it.

("Flowing" by the way, is not as easy as it looks. The idea is to move in a smooth, liquid-like manner. My instructor can move like she has no bones. I move like a bad version of Mr. Roboto).

I would have thought that after a lifetime of being together, my limbs and I would have come to a basic understanding. I would instruct them to move in a graceful, fluid manner, and they would do it.

Or not.

The dance teacher oozed across the floor with serpentine movements. I followed suit by staggering across the floor like a inebriated rhino.

To her credit, the teacher didn't laugh, but she didn't look thrilled either. She did manage to keep extolling misty encouragement though.

"Flow with the music. FEEL the music. Your arm is floating along with the sound. Flooooow-ing aloooooong. Floooooowing...Flow...no, it doesn't jerk, it flows. Flo-you know, maybe we should try something else".

Apparently, I don't flow. I get bogged down in concrete and drown. That would have been discouraging, except that I was having a blast! I've never been so horribly bad at something, yet enjoy it so much. (Obviously, American Idol contestants labor under the same feeling).

For a few months there, I did my belly dancing class every week. In between classes, I practiced at home, and in supermarkets, and in the car on my way to work. (Trying to belly dance while strapped to a car seat hindered some of my movement, but I think it actually improved it aesthetically...something to try during the next class).

Sadly, just as I was moving from looking like someone having a seizure to someone just stumbling in after an all night bender, school started again, and it was on the same night as the dance class. So I had to choose between an MBA or being a Shikira backup dancer, and I hear Shikira's costumes have a tendency to chafe.

BUT! As soon as I finish my curriculum and they stamp Ed-u-ma-cated on my forehead, I'm shimmy-ing my way back into belly dancing classes...because no one "flows" like an inebriated Mr. Roboto with an MBA.