It's near the end of the year, the time when the tribe decides on next year's goals. I've been thinking of our goals as we set them this time last year. One that we all agreed on was that we needed to increase our tribal vocabulary and to increase our improvisation in our performances.

It seemed scary at the time, getting out there without a plan, or at least without much of one. Just a semi-formed idea of what moves might work at particular points in any song. The whole idea seemed so intimidating. Even my tribe sisters seemed intimidating at that point. I would get self-conscious when it came to my turn, not wanting to muck it up for the short time I was at the point. Thinking on my feet, letting the music move me and guide me. Letting go. Oh God, letting go. How on earth would I lead the tribe with a fluid succession of movements that were varied enough to be interesting to the audience, and clearly execute the cues so that they could follow? The prospect seemed daunting.

Well, it certainly was painful for me in the beginning. At practice, we'd do a bit of improv and I dreaded it at first. Slowly it came to me, though. I learned to think 8 beats ahead. That helped a lot, just knowing what I would do next. Having some idea of what move would be a smooth transition from another move helped as well. So, I'd piece together 2 or 3 sets of steps which seemed to work, and gradually I'd substitute a new move for one or the other of those. I'd make a move verboten for that night. No Arabic 3's for me. I forced myself to think of another move to get out of the default mode.

Dancing at Deano's helped immensely. But first I had to learn (the hard way) that I can't drink and dance with any degree of competency. I get too laid back and just wanna have fun. I don't want to think. So, I have to foreswear the yummy brews Deano has on the menu in favor of some great improv opportunities. A small price to pay, really. Il Troubadore are always such fun anyway, especially when they toy w/ the dancers and keep going when we expect them to stop. Evil, wicked men - ya gotta love that!

Now that we have our basic vocabulary defined and we know pretty well how each other dances, it is much easier to go out there and perform. No need to worry about forgetting a move or mis-stepping in a choreography. Nothing is written in stone, therefore it can't be wrong. The pressure is paradoxically lifted. Choreography becomes restrictive and limited to the dancer's ability to remember. At my age, that is a real consideration, too! The pressure for the Ren Faire was so much lower than it was with all choreographed pieces. We had a general idea of what we'd be dancing to, but how we danced varied from set to set, and that was OK. That's how it's supposed to be: spontaneous, organic, unique, precious.

So the change happened slowly over the course of the year, but it did happen. I noticed it in everyone. Those who already had their style defined became more proficient, beautiful to behold. The reticence to lead
gradually turned to anticipation of the opportunity to lead. For myself, I don't shy from leading now, but offer it to others first, afraid that I will be a hog about it. Funny, but if I knew that I'd be thinking that a year ago, I'd have thought myself nuts! Self-consciousness dissolved and was replaced with eagerness to get out there and just be in that moment, to feel the beat and share the joy of dancing with the tribe and letting the audience share it with us. Confidence was irrepressible, and the bond made tighter when we realized we could talk to each other with only glances and cues. The rush of the telepathy we share when we dance is indescribable. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. I really think it was a milestone year for us. I'm proud of all of us for what we have accomplished and can't wait to see what we have in store for each other in the coming year!

The conversation went like this........

"Is this Kate?"
"Yes."
"This is Greg so-and-so. I own the company that put your roof on."
"OK..." Uh oh, I thought, what is wrong that the owner is calling me?
"I just wanted to call you and tell you.." He sounded out of breath. "I just wanted to tell you that you are a rare person. I can't think of anyone that would do what you did when we are so behind in billings. It restores my faith in people when things like this happen."

I laughed. "Ohh, so you got the letter."

"Yes, and I really feel that such a gesture ought to be acknowledged."

"Aww shucks", I said. I suck at accepting praise.

He continued... "I'm a firm believer in telling people when they do a good thing. Then they are more likely to continue on."

"I couldn't agree more. Folks aren't kind to each other nearly as much as they should be these days. Besides, I knew you were busy, and it the Christmas season...."

I felt suddenly awkward. We talked about the siding yet to be replaced, exchanged pleasantries, and ended the conversation.

All I did was send him the reimbursement the insurance company had allowed for the roof replacement. Just sending him what was owed him, really. I did appreciate his appreciation, though. It did make me feel good to make someone else so happy.

Then I got to thinking.....

Why is it that we as a society have such a hard time doing what we all know to be right? Of course this is a sweeping generalization, but take it in the spirit intended. Not everyone is out to get one over on anyone they can, but the few that do sure get around a lot! I get so disgusted with the sense of entitlement I see displayed around me, the appalling lack of manners and common courtesy. I'm not talking high protocol here, just smiling and letting someone go in the door before you. Basic stuff. Gone. Poof. It is especially noticeable at this time of year when we should be lousy with love for our fellow humans.

I do not feel superior or holier than anyone by a long shot. I just feel I am doing what is right. Well, right for me anyway. So, I will continue to do things like that and take delight in them. I am grateful that I am not the only one. Maybe it will catch on, eh?

I love fog. Tonight I worked until 2 am or so and when I stepped outside, I saw the most wonderful fog. Fog makes things still and muffled. It quiets and settles. I always feel like I have stumbled across another world when I am treated to a bit of fog. Familiar places and objects seem surreal. The fog on the road reminded me of a ghost's skirts in old cartoons: wispy, elusive, ethereal.

A long time ago I was in a similar situation and was driving home through the fog when I saw a rabbit sitting in the grass in the office park. He loped away and I thought "Oh, wasn't he cute." I drove another 100 feet and heading the rabbit's way was a fox. He wasn't in any big hurry. He knew the rabbit was going to be his eventually. Tonight I saw a bat flying about. It's special to me because I never see this stuff without fog.

The flashing yellow lights were not even visible until 150 feet or so before the intersection. The refraction of the light through the fog made them look like two suns exploding and spilling their rays onto the street.

I wonder if faeries come out to play in the fog..........

I find infinite delight in little things. Little gems that please me so when I find them.

Perfect moments suspended in time. God, I wish it could be so. Yesterday I was still feeling great from my week off of work. Still feeling the high as it were. I was driving along the highway on a perfect Sunday morning. The air was still crisp from the morning and hadn't yet attained that summer-baked quality. The sun was shining, but not so brightly that it hurt your eyes. The breeze was cool and soothing. Some airy music was playing (Sigur Ros, I believe). Suddenly, I felt this perfect moment of peace. The car was not under me. I was floating blissfully on the ether.

Funny thing is - I was on my way to work!