teaching my first movement class

I was at my maternal grandparents' home - the home they lived in when they were alive - in the 'number one' bedroom: the room I used to sleep in when I stayed with them as a child. The room was now much bigger with windows lining the entirety of one wall. I was about to teach a movement class and realised I had not prepared. This was somewhat alarming as it was my first-ever class. Even so, participants had arrived and were in the process of laying thick blue yoga mats in a grid on the wooden floor. I had to proceed. I lay my mat on the floor on a diagonal in a corner, facing the class, with the windowed wall to my right. I could see the sun going down and knew we would soon experience the peace and ambience of dusk. The room was full to capacity - perhaps 20 people, both male and female, with room around each to stretch and move. I knew I had the perfect playlist; I'd been creating it for years. I had to trust all I'd learned - all the dance and movement I'd done in my lifetime, the warm-ups, breathing, stretching, moves and cooling-down relaxations - would come back to me now.

my brother sings

I was in a room with many other people - perhaps a library, perhaps a church. I could see my brother standing with two other men around his age and an older man who was a musician and producer of some note. The older man held some kind of recording device and played a few chords of music, asking the younger men to sing. First one man sang, his voice gentle and high, the melody dancing around the chords, then the second man joined him, his voice similarly sweet and high. Then, as directed, the two men stopped and my brother began to sing, his voice deeper and sadder. From his body, as he sang, came a palpable vibration that resonated throughout the room. People who had been talking ceased talking and sat in silence. A few of us - my mother, sister and father - drew close to my brother, placing our hands gently on his back, feeling the vibration and supporting him. The older man recorded his voice, the vibration, and knew he had found something unique.

marching band and circus solo

I watched an unusual performance. An Australian circus performer, well-known for burlesque, physical performance, and particularly trapeze and hula hoop, was doing a wild and extremely energetic dance. She was dressed in a fantastic red and blue drummer boy outfit: very short glittery shorts, a sparkling midriff top, a tall soldier hat and long boots, and she twirled and tossed a baton. Her physical strength and skill was compelling. Behind her, accompanying her, was a Christian marching band. Perhaps one or two hundred young people, playing a range of instruments and dressed in blue school uniform, marched behind her. The music was sensational; featuring brass and percussion, providing a strong and driving rhythm. The contrast between the two looks was very striking. Where she was extraverted, highly individual and sexy, the band, though moving in time to the music, were uniform, conservative and modest. Together, it worked brilliantly.

ChrehDoch

I was in my old bedroom, listening to the radio, when a fabulous song came on. I immediately recognised the woman's voice though I had never before heard this song. It was very unusual in style. The woman sang with great power, using her voice in a particularly throaty way, much like the way Bulgarian folk singers do. She was backed by musicians with a gypsy fusion sound, influenced by tango and underscored by dance music. Julia Lester announced that it was indeed my friend singing the song with her new ensemble: ChrehDoch.