Joi of Movement

My love of movement began at age 2 with my left foot in doing the "Hokey Pokey". My passion for music probably was embodied even earlier than that, being surrounded by my father's innate musicality and his amazing record collection comprised of music from all genres. He was always singing, playing music, rhythmically tapping, blowing on his trumpet, or beating on the bongos. Using my mother's collection of soundtracks (West Side Story and Funny Girl as particular favorites) I performed numerous one-girl performances for dolls and stuffed animals who turned our living room into thunderously applauding packed houses. Over the years, the living room was replaced with recital halls and school stages, my versions of the Great White Way.

When it comes to music, I can offer hours of information that you never knew you weren't missing. The joke in my family is to change radio stations and listen to me rattle off title, artist, and lyrics and mimic instruments. When albums were around, I memorized the scratches in the songs. Imagine my amazement when first hearing "Something's Coming" from "West Side Story" (Broadway version) on a CD with every note evenly distributed. I had to relearn the song as well as rework my choregraphy! Let me tell you what this vast internal musical library has done for me. I'm a blast on road trips as well as a great mobile shoutout for folks who find themselves stumped on a music question in the Cash Cab.

Stepping deeper into the music I found a connection with rhythm and used that to my advantage through school as well as on grocery shopping trips. If I moved my body and connected to a beat, I'd recall what I needed to know or make a tedious task bearable. Mr. Macy, my 7th grade English teacher, opened a world of parts-of-speech wonder with his rhythmic definitions of adjectives and adverbs. (Math teachers weren't quite as creative hence my development of a life-long math phobia, more fodder for the family.)

When calories caught up with me and I internalized the message that voluptuous girls CAN'T or SHOULDN'T be dancers, I explored the world of EXERCISE. Walking, running (quite short lived, that one), working-out, all frustrating. I spent more time trying to figure out the right cassette tape to take along than I did with the actual movement. Then I found Jazzercise in the early 80's and with a grapevine and jazz square, I was moving.

Life and my choices along the way carried me on a circuitous path. Jazzercise lost its sparkle and I was once again on the road to discover movement that truly moved me. This time, the search had an added requirement, move my body in a way that releases long held beliefs and emotional patterns. Then, yoga appeared and I was moved. I twisted and turned and on that path I discovered that silence carries its own melody. Though I practiced (sporadically at times) for 10 years, it left me longing in one area - moving in harmony with music.

My first step into the space at Studio NiaMoves was a homecoming of sorts since it's the same space in which I took that first yoga pose. Stepping into that first Nia class with Helen Terry in February ‘08, I felt the “click” that reminded me of times when I moved from sensation and felt that systemic connection. It was in that first Nia class where my still inner voice sang with confidence, “This is it!” Two weeks later I jumped into NiaMoves’ 52 Day Challenge where I found a deeper sense of self and in June '08, I realized my dream of becoming a certified Nia instructor by completing the White Belt training. I have been dancing and sharing from sensation with gratitude ever since, not only in my classes but most certainly while sharing and learning in the space of the other instructors. This Friday, I will step into the Green Belt intensive led by one of Nia's co-founders, Carlos Rosas. It's been a truly amazing journey!

Nia affirms what I believe about body, mind, and soul - that when we sense we have the innate ability for self-healing. When we move, we release mental and emotional toxins. When we listen to that still inner voice, we receive the answers. . .