Thoughtful reflections, inspirations, or instigations. It depends on the day.
Many of us have heard of, or engage in cross training. We know that different forms of exercise can work together to increase performance in each individual pursuit.
I wonder if cross-thinking should become a thing? What if we began to think outside of our own context?
Maybe then it wouldn’t be surprising for a tap dancer to talk about artificial intelligence, or a biologist to also have a practice of writing poetry.
Wouldn’t that be a fun world to live in?
Sometimes we avoid staring at the pain. Of course, because who wants to relive that – whether our own, or someone else’s.
Sometimes we’re asked to stare at the pain. To walk alongside our brothers and sisters who experience pain on a different scale, and in a different way.
Sometimes we’re forced to stare at the pain. To realize that evil actually does exist; and to decide to work for good.
Sometimes we’re drawn to stare at the pain. To never forget the need for restitution, reconciliation, and healing.
Sometimes we’re drawn away from staring at the pain. But not before the inner work is done. Not before our pain is worked through. Not before the pain becomes the fuel for Love.
Saying what we see or what we hear is super important. It provides clarity in conversation. Sometimes we say what we want so as to evoke a particular meaning in the person we’re speaking with. But what if we misjudge where our conversation partner is listening from?
Better to just say what it is, and let the listener ask questions.
Maybe this is some special reframing of how we should communicate, or maybe this is just being honest (with ourselves and others).
A friend asked me how I was doing, and that’s all I could say. “I think I’m okay.”
I hadn’t thought about it. Work has been keeping me busy, and the future is a moving target that I don’t believe I can ever pin down at this point. I’ve landed on trusting the day will lead me toward whatever future is in store for me.
I know what I’d like the end to look like. I’ve thought about that a lot. But the journey between today and that moment? Who knows. I had no idea that 2020 was going to be what it was. I can’t say with any assurance that I know what tomorrow will bring. So I resolve to trust what I trust, and let the journey unfold.
So if you ask me if I’m okay, you’ll probably be able to tell. I’ll be honestly responding based on the work I’m doing in that moment, on that day. Anything more than that will have to wait until tomorrow.
For the past month, I’ve been hosting weekly conversations at The Table. These are gatherings of less than 8 people, focused around a particular topic. People from all over the world have joined, as we discussed education, community, and the arts.
For years, I have practiced hosting conversations. I’ve discovered different ways to ask questions, the power of framing and reframing dialogue, the immense power of language, and the challenge we all face when presented with new things that can change the way we see the world.
Many of us have experienced moments when conversations get “intense” or when they shift from dialogue to debate. The increase in intensity can be wonderful. It means that things are getting personal, important, and worth defending. The shift from dialogue to debate is more deflating for me. It means that we’ve moved from an exchange to a fight. From a collaborative effort of relating to a competition in which there needs to be a winner and a loser.
I love the intensity, but I don’t like the shift. There is a way to have one without the other – I’ve experienced it multiple times. It takes a lot of sensitivity to the people involved in the conversation, including ourselves. It takes an ability to hold space for ideas that may seem mutually exclusive, or oppositional to our own world view. It take a desire to place the act of relating, as practiced in dialogue, as a higher value than the success of a particular idea, or our own power of convincing.
While there is a continual battle of ideas in the greater culture and of course the marketplace, I wonder if we can keep that battle from claiming too many human relationships by keeping our own conversations from becoming debates.
If you want to experience The Table and join a conversation, find out more here.
I heard the announcement of gradual re-openings and the first thing that I felt was, “No! Not yet!” And not for the reasons you might think. Of course there are health and safety, economic, political, and personal concerns – in no particular order. The thing I felt the most was the loss of a possible opportunity. What opportunity was that?
The opportunity to see differently, to shift, and to continue down a new path.
Many of us have had extra pressures, new questions, and future challenges come into our lives on account of our experience these past weeks (and months!?). Some of us have experienced more dramatic shifts than others. The shift that we’ve experienced in the past weeks has come at a severe price – the lives of loved ones – either lost, or changed forever.
I feel an obligation to those who have been lost in all of this to use my own time more wisely; to use my particular circumstance and the particular questions and resources I have to do more, and be better. Frankly, I don’t want my own world to go back to a context that naturally leads to being overstressed, overstretched, and overextended. I don’t want to lose sight of the opportunity I had to see differently, to shift, and to continue down a new path.
We shouldn’t need the entire world to stop to have such an opportunity, but the world just did.
A dear friend of mine recently described me as someone who feels the feelings. They added, “And you do that on purpose.” As if to specifically point out that I don’t run away from the feelings, but rather run towards them.
It’s true.
I was always the “over-sensitive” kid. The one who cried at movies (wait, I still do that). The one who couldn’t bare conflict. It wasn’t on account of the disagreement, but the discord. There is a difference.
I’ve had to find language, learn questions, and connect with people who understood the feeling of feelings. Finding language has helped me communicate with others and with myself about what I’m experiencing. Learning questions that poke at my emotional landscape help me keep an eye on what is going on. Connecting with people who understood the feeling of feelings helped me feel less isolated.
I used to attempt to tame my emotions. That hasn’t worked out so much for me. Corralling – getting them all together – and riding them, has been a much better way. The ride is kind of amazing – in the same way that a waterfall, large mountains, and the ocean are amazing.
There is a magnitude to emotions that is more than I ever imagined. It makes me respect them a little more. There is a breadth and complexity to them that is rich with humanity. It keeps me learning from them. Feelings may not always be reflective of the facts of the moment but they are always honest. And that makes me appreciate them.
Feelings are part of who we are. If we ignore them we run the risk of being continually surprised by our internal workings. Often at inopportune times. If we give them too much attention, they my start running our lives.
I’m thinking about the middle. Where my feelings shed light on situations that my mind hasn’t been able to fully discern yet. Where my mind can learn about the world around me by what I’m feeling. Where the feelings are like a nerve ending that may not see everything but is important to pay attention to.
In 1989, the United States Congress put forth and enacted a bill designating May 25, 1989, as National Tap Dance Day.
So many seemingly separate initiatives had to come together to make this happen. Here’s a short list in no particular order:
This wasn’t the first time a bill had been put forth, and there were also questions about what date should be chosen. Bill Robinson’s birthday was ultimately chosen. His contributions to the craft, his popular recognition (even 40 years after his passing), and his work in the social sphere, made him the perfect candidate.
So here we are, more than 30 years from the original legislation, and more than 70 years from Bill Robinson passing. Today, events happen all over the world in celebration of tap dance. The community is thriving even as the world experiences major shifts. Bill Robinson is remembered and held in high regard. We may not know what the future of tap dance (or the performing arts in general) will look like, but today we celebrate.
Extras
If you’re interested in the whole story around Tap Dance Day, the Tap Legacy™ Foundation has compiled the oral history of how the bill came to pass here.
Check Bill Robinson perform his signature stair dance here.
See a reconstruction by Gregory Hines of the very same stair dance in the film Bojangles.
See me perform a live version of Robinson’s stair dance here.