Two years ago, I wrote A Love Letter to Flamenco and one year ago, I wrote Surrender.  It was interesting to reread them both and to think about all that has happened since.  In "Love Letter", I was recommitting myself to Flamenco after having a period of feeling a bit uninspired.  What is interesting about life is that once I wrote that letter, so many things started happening to make my renewed commitment more challenging:  I found myself needing to let go of a couple of regular gigs and I started having some physical pain that was limiting how much I could do, both in daily life and onstage.  I wrote about those challenges in Surrender, where I decided I would welcome the changes to see what I could learn from them.

Well, as you know if you've been keeping up with me, I have since learned that I have Lupus.  The mysterious pains were because of the Lupus.  So I found myself welcoming Lupus in 2015 and like I said when I first announced I had Lupus, I welcomed the diagnosis because I finally knew what I was dealing with. Maybe committing to a year of "welcoming" in 2015 readied me for the news I had long suspected was coming.

I still feel I am in the same transition process that I wrote about a year ago.  I am not really sure what is coming up next for me.  I feel like I am barely catching up with myself now.  I'm just getting used to regular doctor's visits and understanding how the Lupus behaves in my body.  I'm just now understanding what my body is trying to tell me at any given time.

So this year, I want to write a love letter to my body.  I want to thank this body of mine for carrying me through this life so far.  I want to thank it for the simple things like allowing me to walk, to run, to see, taste, smell, touch, and hear.  I want to share my gratitude for this body that has allowed me to combine those skills and senses in a way where I could make music and art with it.

I want to thank my body for carrying me en compás* all of these years, enduring muscle aches, cuts, sprains, and all kinds of pain so that I could transmit my feelings, my life, through Flamenco.  Every twirl of the fingers, every snap of the head, every arch of my back, every remate, every stretch of my arms to the sky has been because of this body meeting the demands I have made of it. My poor body even put up with me when my demands were totally unreasonable, like the years I spent in disordered eating.  It has more than bounced back since I worked on healing that issue.

So now it is time for me to really repay my body.  Right now it feels like it's screaming at me, trying to get me to pay attention.  So I promise I'm going to try and listen.  I know that as a dancer, and therefore an athlete, I often push past the fatigue and the pain in order to deliver the best performance I can give.  The thing is, I don't want to give up dancing, and honestly, I don't think my body wants me to either.  In fact, I feel like I've had some of my best performances lately.  It's as if everything I've been going through has fueled a new level of emotion that needs to get out.  My body and I both need the catharsis.

So as long as this body lets me, I'll keep dancing.  What I do promise to do is to find balance around it. If I have a show one night, nothing else happens that day or the next.  I will eat nutrient-dense food, drink lots of water, get a lot of sleep, take epsom salt baths, get a lot of sleep, meditate, do yoga and my physical therapy exercises, get a lot of sleep, protect myself from the sun, wear my compression socks, keep my hands and feet warm, take my medication and supplements, and get a lot of sleep.

Most importantly though, I will learn to trust.  This body of mine knows what it needs and what I need. I will not be "cured" because there is no cure for Lupus, but there is a lot of healing to be done and I trust that my body knows exactly what that is.  All I have to do is trust and listen, the same way I have always trusted that my body would absorb the Flamenco I so desperately wanted to learn.  Now I want to learn about healing and I trust that my loving body will teach it to me.  

​* Definitions:

en compás--in time, in rhythm.

remate--a phrase of steps that brings a section to a close, usually in a climactic way.


What are ways in which you are thankful for you body?  Feel free to share in the Comments section.

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"You have had a rough year," is something more than one person has said to me recently.  I guess when you think about it, it's true. In less than a year I have built the following team of health professionals thanks to Lupus:  my primary care doctor, a rheumatologist, a physical therapist, an acupuncturist, a periodontist (plus periodontal care from my dentist), and a cardiologist.  I still need to add a dermatologist, an opthamologist, and an otolaryngologist (ear, nose, and throat doctor).  The latter two are due to side effects from my meds. Once I add two of the last three, I have enough doctors to form my own baseball team.

I am on three daily medications and I take prescription pain medication as needed.  I am on a bunch of supplements.  I have had at least two medical appointments weekly for the last eight months.  I put myself on a fairly strict anti-inflammatory diet called the Auto-Immune Protocol, and I have been retraining myself on how to schedule my time based on The Spoon Theory. Oh, and let me not forget that I now live like a vampire because I must avoid the sun at all costs, since UV rays are a Lupus trigger (as you can guess, one of my supplements is Vitamin D).

Basically, my life has changed drastically in a short amount of time, and yes, it has been rough.  However, I feel it has also been a good year.

I welcome the changes.  After years of mysterious symptoms with no explanation, with doctors looking at me as if I was as crazy as the symptoms I described, I feel such a sense of relief.  Now when I go to a doctor, I say, "I have Lupus", and that's enough to get them to listen.  When she first evaluated me, the cardiologist said, "It's too bad you have this, but I imagine it feels good to finally be getting some answers".  Yes, yes, that's exactly it and it's wonderful to hear a medical professional acknowledge it.

I have received so much loving-kindness from my family and friends.  Ever since I wrote my original post about my diagnosis, I have received emails, phone calls, and regular "check-ins" done with such care.  I am so grateful to know such love and support.

I also welcome new contacts I have made.  I have gotten to know other "Lupies" through mutual friends, patient conferences, and a Lupus support group sponsored by Lupus LA.  There are social networking sites for Lupus patients such as My Lupus Team and Patients Like Me.  I have found a lot of resources in the general auto-immune community because of the lifestyle changes I've made.

I have been able to rekindle an old friendship because we both found out we were sick at the same time, she with Fibromyalgia (a related disease).  After years of not seeing each other, we spent a whole afternoon drinking tea, catching up, and comparing notes.  It was awesome and now we talk regularly.

I have also been able to deepen my relationship with my sister-in-law.  She was also diagnosed with Lupus shortly before I was, so we have been each other's main support group.  Although neither of us is thrilled about being sick, it has been wonderful to have someone to turn to for support for even the smallest of things like, "My feet are so cold, I'm wearing three pairs of socks" (see Raynaud's for an explanation of that one).

Most importantly, Lupus is teaching me to be mindful and to listen to my body.  I have had to slow down enough to pay attention.  If I mistakenly eat the wrong thing, the pain in my joints tells me so.  If I don't get enough sleep or over-schedule my day, dizziness and fatigue will drag me down.  

I'm not always fine when I do what I am supposed to do, but I do tend to feel better, and this is all I need.  Feeling somewhat better has kept me dancing.  Not only that, I have been dancing with a lot of feeling according to my colleagues.  After I had performed an Alegrías recently, one of my fellow dancers told me , "There was so much joy in your dancing, it was as if there was nothing else you'd rather be doing".  I told her that she was right.  That's what if feels like when I dance--there's nowhere else I'd rather be and there's nothing else I'd rather do.  It's apparently good for me too; the cardiologist said I would be worse off now if it weren't for the dancing.  So there you go.  I'll keep dancing so long as this body wants me to do so.

So as I go into 2016, I look forward to the continued changes.  I accept that I am entering a long and slow transition into something new.  I hope that this something new brings me to more growth, love, gratitude, and acceptance, and that I may use whatever I learn to help others as well--even if it's something as simple as telling you to eat whole foods, get some sleep, and do some dancing.


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How was your 2015 and what are you looking forward to in 2016?  Feel free to share in the comments below.

Last month I talked about my own personal relationship to the Guajira rhythm.  If you missed my last post, check it out here: Querida Guajira, Part 1.  This month I would like to talk more about the Guajira itself.

The Guajira is one of the palos de ida y vuelta, or "round-trip rhythms" of Flamenco.  These rhythms originated when Spaniards encountered the rhythms of Latin America, brought them back to Spain, and combined them with their own.  

The Guajira specifically is named after a Cuban musical form of the same name.  A "guajira" or "guajiro" is a person from the countryside, so the songs that fit this description tend to be about images and people of the countryside of Cuba.  I guess you can say that Guajira is Cuban country music or at least, a style of Cuban country music.  Also, this music is typically identified by the fact that it features the guitar and similar stringed instruments, as opposed to the drums and horns found in other types of Cuban music.

​Before I continue, I want to preface what I present here by saying that I am not an ethnomusicologist, so please understand that I am simply sharing what I have found by doing my own research, a la internet.  If there are any Cuban or Spanish music history buffs out there who have better details about how either style of Guajira came to be, please feel free to share in the comments below.  I am just a Cuban-American Flamenco bailaora looking to make her Guajira study more interesting.

Anyway, according to what I have found through my arduous Googling, the music form most Cubans identify as Guajira, is not exactly like the original Guajira that came about around 1900, and is attributed to composer, Jorge Anckermann.  According to the Wickipedia site for Guajira, Anckermann originally wrote this music for the theater.

After some more fishing around the "interwebs", I found the following You Tube video of a guitarist playing, "El Arroyo Que Murmura", or "The Murmuring Creek", an original Guajira composed by Anckermann:

For those of you already familiar with the Flamenco version of Guajira, you can already hear the similarities.  You can hear it in the time structure and you can hear it in the tonalities.  

For those of you who aren't familiar with either of these forms or with music language itself, it's easier for me to just show you, so here, I found another recording, this one dated 1914, of Manuel Escacena singing Flamenco Guajiras:

​

Isn't the internet fantastic?  Anyway, as you can imagine, the styles have evolved.  Eventually, what Cubans have come to know as Guajira, is actually a combination of Guajira and the Cuban style of Son, which features more percussion and has a 4/4 time signature rather than the 3/4 or 6/8 found in the original Guajira.  If you don't know what this means, the easiest explanation I can give is that if you listen to the following recording, you're probably more likely to find it easier to dance to.  If you live in Western society, most of the popular music you hear is in 4/4 time.

You may think that this recording by Guillermo Portabales sounds familiar.  That's because you probably heard Buena Vista Social Club perform his song, "El Carretero" or, "The Wagoneer":

​

Now, obviously, since this is a Flamenco blog, I must end with the Flamenco Guajira.  The modern day Guajira is still a 12-count structure, so unless you are a trained dancer, you unfortunately won't be able to dance to it, but you can still appreciate its beauty and its connection to its Cuban heritage.  I especially love when Mayte Martín sings it:

​

Well, you've come down the Guajira rabbit hole with me.  I hope it was a fun ride.  I'll leave you with some of the traditional Flamenco Guajira lyrics, just so you have a sense of what they're about:

Me gusta por la mañana,
despues del café bebío,
pasearme por la Habana,
con mi cigarro encendío,
y sentarme muy tranquilo,
en mi silla o mi sillón,
y comprarme un papelón,
de esos que llaman díario,
y parezco un millonario,
rico de la población.


I like, In the mornings,
after drinking my coffee,
to stroll around Havana,
with my cigar lit,
and then sit peacefully,
in my chair or my armchair,
and buy myself one of those big newspapers,
they call dailies,
and look like one of those 
rich millionaires of society.

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Do you know anything else about this history of Guajira?  Or, have you danced or played Guajira before?  What do you think of the Guajira?  I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.  Also, like I said before, I'm a professional Bailaora, but an amateur sleuth, so if you are a music historian and know some more details about Guajira, feel free to add them in the comments below as well!

This post is dedicated to my late grandmother, Mercedes. Together, she and I used to celebrate our Saint's Day, "el día de Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes", on September 24, which is coming up shortly.


Oh, the Guajira. This rhythm has been haunting me for a few years.  Mostly figuratively, but even literally. The other day while trying to choreograph a Guajira, I would pause the CD to take a break, and it would start playing by itself.  I then stopped the CD entirely, and when I walked away, I once again started to hear those opening guitar chords, playing on their own.  It was as if the pesky palo* was saying, "You're finally working with me and now you want to stop?  No way.  You're mine now".

I actually had a relationship with the Guajira long ago. It was the first full "solo" number I ever learned.  I put it in quotes because I performed this number with about 40 other classmates in my Intro to Flamenco class at UCLA.  It was exciting at the time.  I got to have fun working with the fan, a traditional element of the Guajira, and I relished the fact that the lyrics were about some dude's desire to marry a beautiful Cuban girl from the countryside, a "guajira" (the rhythm itself is named after a Cuban rhythm by the same name). Being a Cuban girl, it was fun to pretend the verses were about me.

As a member of different dance companies, I have performed some version of the Guajira several times, with both a fan and a shawl.  In Spain I had a teacher who dared to teach us a Guajira without the fan! "Why does the Guajira have to have a fan?," she asked, when a student questioned her methods.  I liked her sense of rebellion, but I do prefer the fan for the Guajira.  It's what gives it a bit of Cuban flare.  It's the same reason I don't like Guajira lyrics that don't have to do with Cuba.  I feel like, "what's the point in that?" To me what makes the Guajira special is its "Cubanness".  Without that, I'd rather be dancing something else.

You see, over the years as I got more serious about Flamenco, I decided to focus on what are considered the more serious palos and I forgot about the poor Guajira.  I started to see the Guajira as a gimmicky dance, used to give audiences the treat of some pretty props that we twirl around, but not something I considered to have any real substance.  It's not just because it's a happy dance either.  The Alegría de Cadiz is actually named after "happiness", but it is a robust dance, with lots of mood and rhythmic shifts built into it.  There's a structure with a lot of meat to it.  To me the Guajira just doesn't necessarily have that same depth.  It's pretty with pretty lyrics and a sense of romance and flirtation. That's nice, but can you give a girl some angst?

These are just my excuses though.  The reason I haven't done a Guajira solo in years is that people expect me to do so:  "But you're Cuban!  You of all people should have a Guajira".  And that is why I don't.  I know, it seems petty.  Yes, partly it is.  I have a rebellious streak and don't like to be told what to do. However, there's also a fearful perfectionism playing its hand here.  I feel like if I'm Cuban, my Guajira better be the most Cuban Guajira ever and I want it to feel that way, right out the gate.

Here is where we learn the lesson about perfectionism--it gets you stuck.  You don't let yourself create anything when you get hung up on wanting it perfect.  It will never be perfect.  I've been dancing Solea por Bulería for years now and people tell me they love my solo, but I know it's never perfect.  I will always want it to be more.  However, I also know that it is way better than it was when I first started putting it together back in Spain seven years ago.  In fact, it barely looks the same.  We have developed and melded together, fermenting like a fine wine.

So this is what I need to remind myself as I rekindle my love affair with my forgotten Guajira.  We may start off with a bumpy beginning, but eventually we should smooth out and glide together.  Or saunter.  The word "saunter" keeps entering my head when I think about walking across the floor, slowly waving my fan, proudly embodying my ancestors onstage.  

For now, I'll leave you with a sample.  This is a video of Belén Maya dancing to Mayte Martín's cante. The choreography has some modern elements that you don't often see in a traditional Guajira, but I love this video because Belén captures the coquettish and sauntering feel that I think this palo should have.  Also, I absolutely love the way Mayte sings Guajira.  They are beautifully accompanied by Juan Ramón Caro on guitar.  Enjoy!

* a particular rhythm or musical form in Flamenco

Did you like this post?  Feel free to Like it and Share it  and stay tuned for Part 2 where I will go over a bit of the history of the Guajira with more video samples.

What do you think of the Guajira?  Are there other Flamenco palos you prefer?  Do you also struggle with perfectionism?  Feel free to share your thoughts below.

When I was still an intermediate level Flamenco student, I was given some of the best advice I have ever received, that stays with me to this day.

It happened when I was trying to drill a llamada, or opening "call" step that you use to call the musicians and singer in for the next section of the piece. Because they serve this function, llamadas are usually exciting and punctuated with percussive heelwork that comes to a well-accented close.  Then there is a breath...
and the next section begins.

So you can imagine, the llamada must be executed clearly, without hesitation.  However, when you're a student still in your early days, these steps often seem intimidating.  Thus, a fear can set in and this is where you can get stuck.

So one evening, during a rehearsal at the dance studio, I was stuck in one of these moments.  I couldn't get a llamada por Alegrías (the rhythm of "Joy" of all things) to come out, even though I had done it a bunch of times in class.  The stress of having to do it by myself while others were watching was just too much for me.  It just fell apart after the first few counts.  I was about ready to cry from anger.  It was the complete opposite of what I was supposed to be channeling.

Then the words that have stuck with me for years came out of my fellow student, a tiny, but fierce dancer.  She smacked one fist into her other palm and said, "In Spain when that would happen to me, my teacher told me the problem was that I was afraid of the step and that as long as I was afraid of the step, it would never come out.  You actually already have it in you; you just need to let go and let it come out.  So just go for it.  Just do the step.  Don't fear the step.  Don't fear the step!"

Don't fear the step.  Just go for it.  It's already in you, you just have to get out of your own way.

How perfect is that, not just for dance, but for life?  That's why I still remember it.  I have continued to use that advice throughout my Flamenco career and studies, but I also think of my fearless friend when I have a challenge in other parts of my life, such as this new Lupus diagnosis.  The fear is what keeps me stuck, but when I am willing to let go of the fear, I get out of my own way and find that the step I am so afraid of is what will lead me to the next breath, the next verse, the next calling.

Now remember, there will always be steps in dance or in life that are more complicated than you are technically prepared for, and you will have to do the work to acquire those skills.  But when you know you have diligently done the work, and something still isn't quite right, it might be time to ask yourself, "Am I afraid of the step?  Do I need to just let go and see what happens?"  I bet you'll often find that's all you needed to do to get through that step and into the next breath.

And yes, by the way, that is what happened for me that night.  I let go and it turned out I did have the step.  And yes, I breathed a big sigh of relief and got a good joyful laugh too.


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Is there a step you know you need to take, but you're letting fear hold you back? How do you think you can "let go" and just take the step?  I'd love to hear from you in the comments section below!  Let me be your cheerleader!

I've been putting off writing this entry.  I've been putting it off so much, I did not even send out my newsletter last month.  I needed some time to process what I was feeling and how I was going to talk about it.  As I write this sentence, I still don't really know what I am going to say.

Last month I was finally diagnosed with Lupus.  I say "finally" because I've been dealing with mysterious symptoms for years now.  I've been going to doctors, having them run tests to explain things like hair loss, dizzy spells, heart palpitations, digestive distress, numbness and burning in my legs and feet, and massive fatigue, among other things.

About a year ago, my symptoms got worse.  After a very busy April full of several gigs, I ended up in bed for an entire weekend, frightened.  I had sharp stabbing pains in my stomach, heart palpitations, leg weakness, nausea, dizziness, and a fever.  I went to the doctor later that week, feeling horrible, and had all sorts of tests run.  Everything came back normal.  I was told it was "just stress".

By Thanksgiving, I couldn't empty my bladder.  After some testing, it was decided I would need physical therapy to regain proper function of my bladder.  It seemed unrelated to all the other symptoms, that my dancing was responsible, but now my team of medical practitioners seem to agree that the Lupus may have something to do with why my therapy is taking longer than predicted. Forgive me if it seems crude, but to put it quite simply, I haven't fully emptied my bladder since last Fall.

Anyway, after another busy April this year, I ended up with massive fatigue again.  After another round of "normal" test results, I begged my doctor.  I said, "Look at my face".  By now, I had developed a strange rash across my cheekbones, nose, and forehead, and cystic acne all over the rest of my face. He decided to run some other tests.  A week later he called me into his office.  "I think you have Lupus".  Two weeks after that, a Rheumatologist confirmed the diagnosis.  Besides positive lab results, I now learned there was evidence of arthritis in my joints and that mysterious rash on my face turned out to be the classic Lupus symptom.

I left that Rheumatology appointment and went straight to a gig.  I danced that gig with a new awareness of my body and my life thus far.  When you first start learning Flamenco, you are inundated with all of these new rhythms, each with different names, percussive accents, and melodic tones, even if the counts are similar.  The nuances are subtle enough that it can take a few years before a student can correctly identify what palo, or rhythm, they are listening to.  Then one day it clicks.  You hear the opening chords on the guitar, the first couple of accents, and right away you know that it's a Tientos, or it's a Tarantos.  It's a Solea or it's a Solea por Buleria.

This is how I feel about my Lupus.  I've been dancing with Lupus for years now, but not knowing it. You can only improvise, adjust, or choreograph so much if you don't know the nuances of what you're working with.  Now I know that I've been dancing with Lupus.  Now I know what to adjust for.  Now I know how to improvise around it.  Now I know how to choreograph with it.  Now I know.

There is such relief in knowing.  There is also wisdom to be gained from this point forward.  Just like in Flamenco, where there's a whole new level of learning once you've learned the basics, I am now looking forward to getting to know and understand this new rhythm of Lupus.  I'll keep you posted on what I learn.

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"Whenever we are reaching for something, whenever we’re grasping something, whenever wanting is strong, our fear—which is one of our greatest, our strongest wants, is fear—when that happens, our belly tightens. Our abdomen tightens.

But look what happens now—and I’m talking to the people listening)—if you just soften your belly! (Sighs) So much holding. I mean, we hold all day long. No wonder we’re so exhausted at the end of the day! Just let your belly go now. You may not even know what that means. It just shows how habituated we have become to our suffering. Just let go. Let go! It’s so painful!" --Stephen Levine*

So when you read the above quote, did you notice that your belly was tight?  Did you notice that there actually was room to relax it, to soften it?  If so, you're not alone.  This is my constant practice throughout the day--"Oh crap, I'm totally clenched", or "Oh, there it is again; I'm gripping".  You would think I'd have better abs by now.

I am currently in the process of several healing modalities:  physical therapy, acupuncture, and somatic experiencing.  I am undergoing the physical therapy and acupuncture primarily due to chronic back pain and pelvic floor dysfunction.  At a first glance, these problems are due to my years of dancing or to state it more accurately, to my negligence in properly cross-training to support my spine.

However, something that has been really eye-opening has been the level of insight I have gained from my meditation practice combined with the somatic experiencing (SE).  To give you a very, very brief explanation, the SE has shown me to identify how I hold the stress of past memories and events in my body as tension and stiffness.  I have also noticed how I will hold that same kind of tension at any given point in the day, as if I am wearing armor against whatever stress I feel is attacking me.

And thus we come back to the belly.  I have begun to notice that I'm constantly gripping my abdominal muscles.  I'm constantly bracing for or against something.  I'm constantly ready to pounce at a moment's notice.  This is not a good way to live.  Not only is the tension an embodiment of the gripping I am doing throughout the day, I am now a walking example of the pain and dysfunction this can cause.  

Now here I should add a quick note for my dancer friends.  Obviously, we are trained to hold our abs in to support our posture.  This is still important.  What I have learned however is that once you're done dancing or working out, you need to release.  This is something that I was unconsciously not doing.  I never fully released and now I'm suffering the consequences (I'll be writing a future post detailing some specifics).

So now I scan my body.  Is my belly tight?  Are my shoulders by my ears?  Is my jaw clenched?  If the answer is yes, I immediately take a deep breath, then I exhale and release.  That simple gesture has been amazing.  It has certainly helped with my healing.  If I wasn't breathing and releasing, I don't think I would be making any advancement in my physical therapy.  In fact, a lot of what my physical therapist makes me do is breath work.

One great technique is Soft Belly Meditation.  Here is a You Tube link to a guided Soft Belly Meditation based on the instructions found in Stephen Levine's book, A Year to Live.  I hope you find this technique useful in alleviating your stress and/or pain.

I should let you know that I have heard the gamut of results from this exercise, from people who say the release made them cry to others who started laughing.  It is all ok.  It's about releasing that tension.

Let me know what you thought.  Do you notice yourself clenching unnecessarily?  What do you do to relax?

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* This quote is from an excellent interview of Stephen Levine by Tami Simon of Sounds True:  http://www.soundstrue.com/store/weeklywisdom/?page=single&category=IATE&episode=2376