"What Turning Forty Means to Me:  I need to take my pants off as soon as I get home.  I didn't used to have to do that.  But now I do." --Tina Fey

All jokes aside, I am three days away from turning 40. People have been asking me what I want to do for my birthday and I don't know what to tell them.  When I turned 30, we were living in Madrid and we planned a 30-hour party with our friends.  There was an itinerary that was distributed and anyone could join up with the party at any given time.  If you wanted to join us for drinks at 7pm, we were there.  If you wanted churros and chocolate at 6am the next day, there we were.  Most of the big details were planned out, with room for improvisation--we all came upon a playground at 3am, which led to this:

That was a fun weekend.  My friends still mention it every time they wish me a happy birthday.

​Now, 10 years later, I have no idea how to celebrate the 10-year anniversary of the 30-hour party. Things feel fuzzy.  The thought at the time was, "I'm turning 30 and I'm in Spain; it should be epic!". Now it really feels like, "Uh, I don't know...?".

Now, I don't want you to take this as me being negative about my age or anything like that.  I like that I'm turning 40.  It feels like an age with some character to it.  I get to say things like, "Kids these days" and "I can't be bothered" and mean it.  It's a great age.

I think the thing that feels nebulous to me is that everything is up in the air right now.  I grew up being told that a woman needs to have her life settled by the time she's 40--her career, her family, her home; every detail should be in place.

Hmmm.  But....what happens when you've chosen a career in the arts?  I'm not even talking about the financial questions that I know come up for everyone when they hear "artist", although those are very real questions.  I'm talking about art itself.  The simple act of creation is a constant question.  When I get up onstage, I never know exactly how the performance is going to go, especially with Flamenco since so much of it is based on improvisation and communicating with your cuadro* in real time. When I sat down to write this blog post, I had no idea what was going to come out.  I still don't know where this is going to end up.

And what happens when your husband suddenly gets a job in Africa and is gone for a couple of months at a time, in a region that is not particularly stable, working for an industry that is not particularly stable?  

What happens when you get diagnosed with a chronic illness that is known for being unpredictable?

What happens is the truth of life--nothing is certain.  Nothing can be "settled".  The moment you think things are settled, a tremor or an earthquake will hit and unsettle things.  Foundations crack. Structures shift or crumble altogether.

This is where being a Flamenco dancer has given me an edge.  I have been trained to improvise.  If things aren't exactly going the way I had planned, I listen for cues and shift until everything gels together again and it always does.  It may not end up coming out the way I originally envisioned, but sometimes that insecure moment leads to something even better.  Sometimes it doesn't, but it always leaves me more confident in my ability to handle what comes.

So this birthday, with so many things in my life feeling unsettled, it seems perfect that I just let go and see what happens for my birthday weekend.  So far, I've been asked to perform at El Cid on Saturday, the day after my birthday.  I know many of my Flamenca friends are throwing a brunch for me the day after that.  I love that the weekend has spontaneously come together and it feels very right that Flamenco is playing a big part in it.  

I also find it interesting that my actual birthday day is still wide open for anything.  I'm feeling a little unsettled about that, given that it's the big 4-0 and all, but I'm just going to breathe, listen for the cues, go with what comes, and know that it will be perfect.

​
*cuadro--the ensemble of Flamenco performers onstage.



Did you like this post?  If so, feel free to Like and share it.

Are you turning 40 or have you already turned 40?  Feel free to share any insights or advice about this particular milestone.

If you have any other insights about aging or the unpredictability of life, feel free to share those in the comments below.

"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?

If you like this blog post and find it useful, please feel free to share it.


* 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

The meditation center I go to has an annual intention-setting ceremony on New Year's Eve.  I haven't been to it yet because usually, I either have to work or I go to a family party.  However, last year one of the teachers held a daylong class in January where she held the same ceremony.

Basically, rather than listing New Year's Resolutions, we picked one word that described our intention for the year.  For me it was "welcome".  With my husband beginning his job in Chad near the end of 2013, we were barely turning the page to a new chapter in our life together.  Transitions are hard. This was the first time in our then 12 years of marriage (15 of being together) that we would be apart for a significant amount of time.  Due to extraneous circumstances, we essentially moved in together after only three months of dating, so you can imagine how this change has been shocking to us.  

Add to this that before now, I have never lived alone for an extensive amount of time.  Suddenly, not only is my husband far, far away, I am now fully confronted with what it is like to live with me.  There is no one else to direct my attention toward.  In the silence I hear all my thoughts, fears, hopes, desires, joy, and rage.  It is sometimes deafening.

Through my practice, and through Flamenco as well, I have come to learn how to be in the moment and accept what is, or at least to try.  So I decided to fully embrace it.  Hence, "welcome".  In 2014 I welcomed the new lifestyle, the new challenges and struggles it would create, but I also looked forward to the new opportunities.  One amazing opportunity was my visit to Chad: 
https://mercedesfinallymakesittochad.shutterfly.com/

However, over the last year, I had to learn that part of the practice of welcoming, is to welcome the unwelcome.  In July I was hit by a drunk driver and my new car needed tons of repair (luckily I manged to escape with just a bruise on my arm).  I also had to make the choice to leave behind some of my regular gigs because I felt they were not serving me, either financially or spiritually.  On my way to Chad, my original flight was canceled and my replacement flight left me stranded in Istanbul for two days.  Throughout all of it, I had to remember "welcome".

Now I am starting the new year with some physical complications that are due to a possible back injury.  I am still dancing, but I am now making the choice to only do work that serves my whole well-being.  In the meantime, I am also navigating a health insurance system that still wants me to jump hurdles to get the care I need.  Welcome.

It has not been easy.  I have been struggling the whole way, sometimes crying, sometimes ready to hit somebody, all the while wondering why I have to be so gracious. Yet, when I remind myself to welcome everything, there is a subtle peace that comes.

So in this process, I realize that in order to welcome anything new, I have to be able to let go, to stop resisting, to surrender.  So for 2015, my intention is to surrender.  

I remember more than a decade ago, in my early years as a Flamenco student, a more senior student once told me that the reason I was not getting a step was because I was afraid of it.  She told me, "just let go and do it".  So I did; I surrendered to the step and finally got it.  In that moment, I welcomed myself into a new understanding of my craft.

So now I surrender to my latest reality--to living two-thirds of the year alone, to dancing in fewer, more meaningful gigs while experiencing some pain, to growing.  In doing so, I hope I will truly make way to welcome whatever lies ahead.

If you've been following my newsletter and my blog for awhile, you know that I say I've been married to Flamenco for X number of years.  Right now it's 18, but it will be 19 sometime in the Spring.  Unfortunately I don't remember when our exact anniversary is.  I just know Flamenco and I finally found each other in the Spring Quarter at UCLA in 1995.

Like in any marriage, we have had our ups and downs.  The downside?  Impatience, anger, and fear.  Conflicts of the ego, where I was getting ahead of myself, wanting things to be other than they were at the moment, an unwillingness to commit.  I've mainly been the problem.  I can admit that.  Flamenco has always been there for me.  When times were tight, Flamenco bought groceries.  When I was grieving death or heartbreak, Flamenco sang to me and held me up in its rhythmic waves, to the point where I've learned to breathe and float while resisting pain.

Flamenco has also taught me joy in small things.  The satisfaction that comes from the perfect arch of the eyebrow, that slight shoulder bounce on the 10 in Bulerias, that perfect hip roll or head roll.  The fun of shaking a scarf or my hair at the audience.  Flamenco taught me how to flirt and how to own my sensuality.  It didn't teach me to do it in a cheap way either, but in a badass way.  Alluring and defiant at the same time.  As a teacher told me once, "You're saying, 'You can look at me, but if you touch me, I'll cut you' ".

Flamenco taught me patience, hard work, and care for my craft.  I honestly believe I would not have really understood mindfulness meditation or yoga if I hadn't been through the rigors of Flamenco training first.  It literally has been blood, sweat, and tears.  Toenails ripped off, bruises from falling or hitting myself too hard when doing a slapping step, a busted knee that left me on a cane for awhile, cuts on my hands from the palmas or even my castanets, a sprained toe that turned black.  That one also left me on a cane for awhile.  There were hours of staring at myself from every angle in a mirror, hours of going over the same step over and over again to get the counts or the feeling just right, hours and hours and hours of classes.  The expense and experience of selling off your stuff, packing up the rest, and moving to another country for years, just to spend hours every day honing your craft.  So now, understanding that I am a baby at meditation is really easy to accept.  Flamenco was my first practice.

Flamenco has been gifted to me in this lifetime and honestly, I feel we've been together before.  It's the only thing that explains why I've been practicing snapping on multiple fingers ever since I was a little girl.  I've recently been a little out of love with Flamenco.  Again, it's not Flamenco's fault.  I think those of us who are married to Flamenco often abuse its sacredness with getting caught up in unnecessary stuff.  Pettiness, insecurity, avarice, fear, anger.  All of these things get in the way of our contract with Flamenco.  And it is a sacred one.  No one can tell me Flamenco is not sacred.  It is a musical form with roots that go as far back as 900AD.  It came together from a merging of various cultures, led by people who were resisting persecution.  They took their pain and suffering, faced it, and channeled it into beautiful music and dance that gave them a moment's freedom.  To me that is a gift from the divine, the cosmos, the universe, the collective consciousness, however you want to look at it. 

So Flamenco, I am now working on falling in love with you all over again.  As our relationship enters young adulthood, I am looking to mature.  I will be bringing in what I am learning from my mindfulness, loving-kindness, and gratitude practices to infuse our relationship with a renewed love and respect.  I will embrace the divine feminine that you have allowed me to channel more than ever before.  I will remind myself of your grounding force every time I place my nailed feet onto the tablao, acting as a tree, rooted in the earth.  Just like a tree, I will stretch my limbs to the skies, and like the wind that blows through its leaves, I will float across the floor with the aire that breathes me every second of every day. 

Flamenco, I vow to you to honor our sacred contract.  I am grateful to you for these almost 19 years.  I want to extend my gratitude to all lovers of Flamenco.  In the present, and in our future, may we always be mindful of our service to others through this art and that we may be of service to Flamenco itself.  May we all be happy, may we all be at peace, may we all be free.

2013 was a year of major positive change for me, although I have not been very public about it here and in my newsletters. I've kept a lot of what was going on away from these pages because I didn't know how to integrate everything with Flamenco. I thought, if it's not about Flamenco, people aren't going to want to read about it. However, everything that has changed has made a significant impact on my Flamenco and my relationship with Flamenco, so it no longer makes sense to not tie everything together.  Plus I'm really excited about all of the change, so it's been so hard not to share it!  I've decided to go ahead and share because I want to live a whole, integrated life.  I cannot compartmentalize things.  Life is too beautiful, complicated, and messy for neat categories.

The change started exactly a year ago.  In January, I decided to volunteer for hospice. The decision to go into hospice work was very intuitive.  A combination of several recent deaths in our family, reading The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, and a series of dreams (yes, dreams) led me to feeling like I was being called to hospice work.  I am so glad and grateful that I was ready to respond.  I have three patients I see regularly, plus a woman who is no longer a patient (her health improved), but is now my friend. I have learned so much about myself, people, relationships, fear, and love through this work. I now cannot imagine my life without it.  In fact, I am now looking into how I can make it my life's work along with Flamenco.  I'm hoping writing about both regularly will give me some clarity.

People in our Flamenco community often comment on how calm and mellow I can be and ask me how I do it.  I always give them a one-word answer--meditation.  Meditation has helped me become a calmer and more patient person.  I have more compassion for myself and others because of the few minutes a day I spend sitting there, breathing.  However, it takes time and I am no saint.  I have lost my temper a couple of times when I felt that button had been pushed one-too-many times.  I realize I don't necessarily handle my anger in the best way, so I decided books and online courses in meditation were great, but not enough at this point.

I was about to sit regularly with the dying.  I needed to make sure I was doing enough to get my own fears and ego out of the way so that I could be fully present with each patient.  I knew this instinctively so as soon as I signed up for hospice, I decided to find teachers. I had visited a few Buddhist centers around town previously, but hadn't found my niche. Once I started hospice training, I came to realize there was a place in walking distance from my house that I had not yet visited--Against the Stream Buddhist Meditation Society, aka the Dharma Punx (ATS).  I liked the dharma and I liked punk music.  I thought, why not?  I'm glad I decided to try it.  I was at home as soon as I walked in.  I had hesitated going to this place, thinking it was a gimmick.  There is no gimmick. This place is full of loving people practicing actual Buddhism*, following and expanding on existing lineages.  I started going regularly to classes and even doing acts of service sponsored by ATS. In fact, one of the first activities I did with fellow Punx was to spend a day at the LA Food Bank. 

The furthering of my meditation practice and the additional service I do through my meditation center and through my hospice volunteering, have given me even more compassion and more perspective which has benefited me in my Flamenco life immensely. The Flamenco life is not easy.  I'm going to go out on a limb and say it.  There is a lot of fear in our community that causes us to not always be nice to each other.  I am really working with my meditation practice so that I can be more loving, kind, and compassionate in the Flamenco world. 

Finally, the last major change, is that my husband Tarik started a job working in Africa.  He is now gone most of the time and the schedule is likely to be two-thirds of the year away and one-third at home.  The work is exciting and environmentally progressive in nature. People have been asking me if it's hard or if I'm afraid of what will happen to us.  Although I miss my husband greatly, my practices in meditation, hospice, and Flamenco have taught me that great things come from the consistent embracing of challenge.  My husband seems very happy and fulfilled.  He is doing really well and that makes me happy.  I don't think it's a coincidence that I, who have never really lived alone, am now learning to live alone right as my meditation practice and hospice work are developing. I look forward to the insights I will gain during this time spent on my own.

So that's it.  That's everything I have been up to in the last year.  My intention in getting this all out there is to start integrating everything.  I think my both my dancing and my role in our Flamenco community have been greatly impacted by these changes. I am happier and I am finding a lot more peace in my life and work.  I want to continue exploring this integration in the hopes that I can be of greater service.  This blog will continue to be mostly focused on Flamenco itself, but it will start to carry elements of what I have been learning elsewhere in my life.  I am also looking to launch another blog that combines everything in a much more holistic fashion. I will keep you posted on that.  I hope you'll continue to join me on this ride and I hope what I share helps you with yours.  May you be happy, may you be at peace.

*By the way, my intention in writing about Buddhism here is simply because my meditation practice is based in Buddhism.  I never intend, and will never intend, to prosthelytize.  All paths are valid, from Atheist to Christian, as long as your core belief is to practice loving-kindness. If dogma gets in the way from you being kind and accepting, then you've gone astray as a human being.