Category: Uncategorized

April 13, 2020

Nearly 10 years after moving to Greenville, South Carolina, a dream has finally come to fruition. Of course, it just so happens to be during a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic which also requires all non-essential businesses to cease operations. Our society’s new hashtags include “Social Distancing” and “Flattening the Curve” — a foreign concept to the partner and ballroom dancing world. Yet, I am oddly calm during this time. Thankful, for the solitude — aside from my puppy — and using this time to reflect. (I’m also furiously cleaning and organizing papers, junk mail, and purging unnecessary items from my home — all in sweatpants.)

It is my hope that everyone is able to take some time to themselves and work on individual goals. While we believe that partner dances require a partner (I know, Master of the Obvious here. Just hold your horses…) dancing also requires each participant to be self-aware. A more common word used today is “mindful”. These all surround the same concept of accepting where you are today in your journey, and acknowledging where you are whether it be mental, physical, emotional, or spiritual. All too often, we are looking steps ahead in our dancing to how to dance with a partner. Instead, we should go back to the individual. How is my balance? How is my awareness of space? How can I know without looking in a mirror that my arm or leg is exactly where I need it to be? When I step forward, can I feel which part of my foot is making contact? 

I didn’t understand this concept of acceptance until I was in early morning yoga, on a beach, at a women’s retreat, hating life and the tightness in my hamstrings while yoga instructor, Cristina Andrade, told us to take note of our bodies. “Are they tighter than they were yesterday?” she asked. “Maybe there’s just a little more stress [in your hamstrings] today than there was yesterday. Accept where your body is today, and be thankful…” she said calmly. “Be thankful?!” I thought. Then, I realized how ungrateful I was toward my own body, for how it aged and lost flexibility, for how it was not able to do things it once was… but, that it was OK. I can’t compare myself to what I once was, but I can accept my injuries as knowledge and experience gained. I can be thankful for the movement I am still capable of performing; and, I can be thankful for the new patterns I am able to eventually learn. So, be forgiving and accepting of your body and its limitations, but also be thankful for the capabilities you still have. 

This is a concept I believe is often overlooked in partner dancing. The idea of two people dancing together is not because we need a partner to complete a picture. Rather, it is because two people working together can create a more dynamic work of art. It is my hope that during this time, you find the time and inspiration to focus on yourself. To take the time and embrace the quiet, the stillness, and the miracle that is your body. Accept all its limitations as they are today as experiences that brought you here — to now. Then, choose one small thing you’d like to teach your body to perform. With small goals, we can move mountains.

There is a popular teamwork quote that I like to refer to when it comes to partner dancing:

A single draft horse can pull a load up to 8,000 lbs. Two draft horses pulling together can pull three times as much weight. Working together, two draft horses can pull 24,000 lbs.

Dancing with a partner should be the same — we should be able to create exponential movement in our teamwork, but, it starts with us as an individual first.

June 6, 2019

I persuade my students to explore movements that are outside of their daily rituals and comfort zones — this often results in looks of constipation or absolute discomfort. Then, I experience the “shut-down” phase where I am reminded of a toddler’s conviction in their unwillingness to budge. I stifle my giggles with a considerable success rate, but sometimes, one slips through. They’re just so damned cute.

Now, I would not feel comfortable pushing people past their perceived limits if I  a) have not done so myself; or, b) don’t currently and consistently seek uncomfortable learning opportunities for personal growth. I firmly believe that a student’s mindset and priority should be in learning a skill, craft, or art. Based on that premise, ego and pride have no place in a learning environment. Replaced with humility and openness, we can experience the wonder and small miracles that are set out before us.

The more I look back on my life, the more the large circle of my journey connects. It’s not always a circular or linear path, rather, a chaotic mess that eventually takes shape. My first ballroom coach, Beverly Donahue, was a stern and systematic woman. While many of my colleagues at that time disliked her for one reason or another, I grew exponentially under her tutelage. Most adult learners have a skewed perception of respect. This brings us back to ego and pride. Cameron Shayne said it on Episode 3 of his podcast — which I highly recommend — and I’ll quote it loosely here: there is a huge difference between The Student and The Customer. Subconsciously, I know that many of us struggle with this concept — especially in the American Ballroom/Dancesport community. If we choose to be The Customer, we are choosing to exchange money for a service. In contrast, The Student prioritizes their education, personal growth, or learning of a skill. Beverly was known for her barking commands and “just get there!” comments. I have seen colleagues leave the ballroom because they would simply “not be spoken to in that way.” But, I always wondered what they felt they did to deserve her respect?

Within my first year of ballroom, I went back to Beverly with my questions after watching a local professional show. I remembered being starstruck by one female dancer, to which, Beverly asked me, “Lovely dancer, isn’t she?” I nodded. “She’s a nobody.” At that time, I felt her judgement was harsh, but, Beverly made a point, “She has great technique. She’s a lovely dancer. But, in this industry, you’ll need more than those qualities because [in this industry] women are a dime a dozen.” Those words were said to me over a decade ago, and, to this day, they stick with me as a principle — it’s not enough to be great. Through her, I met my current mentor and friend, Corey Von Ginkel. (I am in no way diminishing the impact of the numerous mentors and coaches that have, and will continue to have, an immeasurable influence on my growth.) Corey — who I’m sure you’ll grow tired of me quoting — laughs at my light bulb moments. I feel sorry for him, because I fought him so long on so many concepts. At least we teach dance. There are fewer tables available to flip on a dance floor. That “Aha!” moment followed by the exclamation, “Why didn’t you just explain it that way before?!” I am guilty of it. I am human, after all.

Earlier this year, I decided to try David Close’s Judo class. David called me out last week in class, “It only took her 6 years to finally come in and try it!” Ha. Nice. Maybe I deserved that a little. Wait. 6 years?! Anyways, back to this partial autobiography…

I watched David on a private Judo lesson (6 years ago, insert eye roll) and found myself fascinated by the similarities of movement between Judo and Smooth/Standard dances. It was through this fascination that David and I became friends — united by our separate journeys for mastery in our chosen arts. Fast forward through random conversations about movement and the human body and countless shared memes to this year. (This is where I would imitate a fast forwarding motion complete with sound effects in person.) I tiptoed into David’s Judo class. The second week, he glanced at me and said, “Where is your Gi?” Confused, I responded, “It didn’t say ‘Gi’ next to the class description?” Shrugging slightly as he walked into the center of the mat, David said, “It doesn’t matter to me if you rip your nice clothes. It would just be cheaper for you to buy a Gi.” So, I bought a Gi. Then, I surmised that if I had a Gi, there would be no reason for me not to try a Jiu Jitsu class. I mean, David taught far more BJJ classes than Judo classes… right? (I already respected him as a friend, knowing I could trust him with my personal growth.) I bought two more Gi’s within the same number of months. Why? Because I realized that I had a huge deficit in my understanding of movement. Judo was — and still is — exciting because I am fairly well-versed in my biomechanics as they relate to a vertical plane.

Translation: Me good on feet. Me not good on ground. The points of contact changed for me. WHAT ARE ALL THESE POINTS OF CONTACT AND WTF DO I DO WITH THEM?! 

For my students reading this, find comfort in the knowledge that David often drags me out by my pant leg during class to instruct me. (When this happens, I look like a confused woodland creature.) Often, it’s something along the lines of, “Dancer! MOVE YOUR DAMNED HIPS!” I have no idea what my hips are doing when my entire back is touching the ground. My world is quite literally, turned upside down. My limited exposure to horizontal movements was exactly the reason I threw myself into this art as quickly as I did. I love being uncomfortable. Because being uncomfortable means there is an opportunity for growth.

Side note: I have a slight distaste for the introductory response to the question, “What do you do for a living?” “I’m a ballroom instructor” or “I teach ballroom” doesn’t seem to encapsulate my mission. I don’t just want to teach you patterns and figures, I want to teach you so that you can experience the joy of movement that dance has given me. This is not just a physical experience, it is mental, emotional, and spiritual. I love movement. The human body is a miracle, and its capabilities are far beyond the boundaries we place upon ourselves.

Excited, overwhelmed, I texted Corey. As per usual, we ended up on a phone call that lasted several hours. “Remember when you told me dance and martial arts were the same?! And I argued with you… I’m sorry for that… because it IS! The dance frame… and the throw… it’s a Back Spot Turn with Swing and Sway and a HIP TWIST AT THE END AND YOU THROW THEM!” Corey laughed. I’m sure he was tickled and slightly annoyed in the same moment, but, patience is a virtue that you either have or you are forced to learn [to have] as a teacher. That conversation zig zagged all over the place — from physics to biomechanics to specific dance steps to socio-cultural evolution back to some advice… “Crystal, you understand gravity as you stand — using the floor to create power. You will need to learn how to understand gravity through various points of contact on the floor and on your back. This will be key for you.” Corey’s words have been marinating for a couple of weeks now. Today, those words clicked. David said to me, “In Judo, you are rooting to the ground. In Jiu Jitsu, you are rooting to your partner/opponent.” Well, f*ck. THAT I understood. My first lesson with Beverly started with her asking me, “What do you know about ‘connection’?” I told her to just assume I knew nothing. At the end of her outline explanation, she said, “Those are the fundamentals of ‘connection’… and you will continue to work on it for the rest of your career.” Dots connected. The student becomes the teacher but remains a student.

To wrap this up, I would highly recommend listening to Cameron Shayne’s podcast — recommended to me by David Close. Specifically, start from the beginning — episode 1. Masculine and feminine energy — not necessarily gender specific — does not just apply to martial arts and yoga, but plays an integral role in partnered dance… which I will address in a future post. Here’s the link to Episode 1:

EPISODE 1: THE MODERN MAN & MODERN-DAY YOGA