OMG!!

You simply must watch this video!
This guy is doing his Happy Dance all over the world and getting paid to do it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlfKdbWwruY

MATT! dude! You travel the world getting paid to do your happy dance!?
Go Matt Go!!



(Ps Devon: Matt is totally on my team. ;p)

Christmahanakwanza

Ahhh. The Winter Holidays are upon us. Whether you prefer Solstice, Chanukah, Christmas, Kwanza, or another holiday of your choice is irrelevant. The important thing is to have some kind of coming together with your family, friends or community to acknowledge the turning point of the year, to share food and resources. To check up on how our neighbors are surviving the winter. And to step outside of daily chores to pause and consider the year that is passing away and where we want to go in the coming spring.

This year I did not choose to celebrate the whole crazy Christmas scene, and I have enjoyed it immensely. Christmas Eve I sat alone in my apartment enjoying the vast silence and solitude since my busy and emotionally energetic roommate had left for the week. Tonight I am at the home of some friends who are also not having an official celebration. Instead we are doing homey things in a group with one of their visiting neighbors. I am applying myself to homework, and job hunting and using their internet. My friends are making homemade pizza, fruit cake, and puddings while entertaining the lost and lonely neighbor. This is one of my main hang outs since I don’t have to buy anything to utilize the campus internet, and often get fed since they love to feed people.

Listening to classic rock on the radio, we all just sort of relax and do our own thing. This is my kind of Christmas! It’s could be any other day except the stores are closed. But there is a certain festivity in the air that is almost tangible and I have to wonder if it’s the residual energy from everyone else’s special day, and the happiness hanging in the air, or if its because the days are already getting a bit longer. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are all taking time out from our usual day to day business to spend time with each other doing whatever we do, and not having the demands of work, or regular weekend chores upon us.

Let’s reflect a moment. What about my previous observation that we overlook important events and normalize them? I still think we should make the time and effort to create a sense of ceremony and celebration instead. I haven’t changed my mind, however I want to freely choose what I lend importance to rather than have an ego-capitalistic society decide for me. I like some things about Christmas but removing the gift giving component entirely has made for far happier holidays all the way around. Now if we could get Christmas music toned down in public places everyone would be much Jollier. I would like to revert to themes of Happy Holidays and just be glad that everyone can do something that has meaning for them, rather than demanding that it’s the same something.

Here’s wishing you peace, love, warmth, and the brilliant happiness of hearth and home. I toast you with my fruit juice and a raspberry filled butter cookie. Happy Holidays of your choice. Enjoy it however you choose. Be creative, be insightful, lend meaning to what has true meaning for you and throw dogma out the window.

The Big One

Molly’s rite of passage: Dec. 12 2010

Today my younger sister Molly got her Driver’s license. It’s a bit later than most people, but that’s ok. She was finally ready. Once my work was done, I showed up at our other sister’s house, where Molly was house-sitting. I brought a bottle of red wine and we did some happy dancing around the kitchen.

We laughed and carried on, and she felt silly, but I convinced her to suspend self criticism and judgment for a moment and let herself go for a moment of well earned celebration. Silly Virgo. It was a wonderful bonding moment for sisters that grew up over a decade apart. But more than that, it was a family recognition for what in our culture amounts to one of the most monumental landmarks on the road to adulthood and independence. For some it happens at 15, for some at 30, for most, somewhere in between. For some it changes little, and for some life is never the same.

Getting that little plastic ID card that grants permission to operate a motor vehicle brings responsibility, mobility, freedom, and an open door of possibilities. She kept downplaying the importance and monument of this achievement but I just kept pouring the wine and toasting the accomplishment. She smiled a lot. It had been a long day, and it would have been so easy to do as the rest of the family had always done, and be too tired, or too broke to make a gesture. But I could not let myself get away with that kind of unconscious callousness. My recent work, and research has made me want to reclaim and revalue these overlooked moments in our lives and culture. I think the quality of our lives depend on it.

It was crazy to see, because 10 days later Molly was driving every day, despite her claims that not much would change, and in two weeks she had a new boyfriend. Life goes on. I am sitting in the back seat these days, being an observer, astounded at how perfectly life unfolds sometimes. For one person it seems to fall apart, and for another it all comes together. We are all just boats on the great ocean, we may think we are controlling our destinies but we’re all just riding the waves. If I ever move back to southern California I am definitely learning to surf this time.

Rites of passage really are all around us, unfolding every day. It is we ourselves that lend importance and ceremony to them, or choose to overlook and down play them, but why should we? We need celebration and ritual in our lives. We need to recognize accomplishments and life changing events. It’s what gives life meaning, and it’s a choice we ourselves are making all the time. It is not something we have to wait for someone to hand us, it’s something we need to open our eyes and choose to give recognition too. It’s time to place our own habitual numbness center stage, and look not at what, but HOW we handle things. Let’s make the time and energy to focus on what actually matters to the development and journey of the individuals in our lives, so they CAN join and belong in the larger community.

All Grown Up

Devon’s Rite of Passage: Dec. 19th, 2010

I held her hand, and stroked her hair and watched as my babies eyes welled with tears. She bit her lips and the pillow to try and stifle the screams, but they escaped into the night anyway. The living room was transformed into a make shift studio as her step father diligently and carefully performed the tattoo he had been promising her for nearly 10 years, over half of her life. It was a very big tattoo of a beautiful dragon.

The specific design had a lot of meaning for my daughter and her father. It had long, thin, straight lines connecting the wings that wrapped around her leg. Long, thin, straight lines have to be completed in a single stroke and tend to push the pain tolerance of the most seasoned ink fans. My daughter looked at me, quaking with trust, and pain, and fear and anxiety and my already wounded heart melted into a puddle. Why had I talked her into this? How could this possibly be the right decision? What kind of selfish mother was I, to arrange for my Ex to do this kind of thing to my child?

My heart slid down my leg and got lost in the carpet for a while... But I kept eye contact and counted her through slow, even breathing without crying. Sometimes I think the older we get the weaker and more sentimental we become. How can I in my early forties be so mushy soft and yet so bitter and cynical compared to the cool aloofness of my youth? At the same time, I seem to get hurt easier, deeper and have more trust when perhaps I shouldn't. I feel less certainty about right and wrong and a direction in life. Silly me, I thought it would all get better with age and experience. Perhaps it was the lack of a recognized rite of passage into my own adulthood. Or becoming to responsible from to young an age. I jumped from childhood, to housekeeper, to built in babysitter, to parenthood. My wings clipped when I wanted freedom, and my earth ever gone when I wanted to land.

I sought my first tattoo, in my late twenties, after my first marriage had dissolved and I needed to recognize myself, and my independence. I knew it was a rite of passage I wanted, the pain, the process, the sense of accomplishment and belonging to myself. Something I didn't get to experience as a teenager. Earning my identity, I got a whole lot more then I bargained for. My rite of passage wasn't a solitary isolated event, but a journey that lasted a decade. I got quite a few tattoos, two new careers, and eventually a second marriage from taking that step when I did.

The change I had sought, came over me like a wave on a vast ocean, unstoppable and completely natural seeming. Much of it shaped who I was to become, but the lessons were harsh and came with a new level of responsibility. A slow, rolling tsunami, that entire experience eventually cannibalized the rest of my life. Bit by bit, as the years progressed I was absorbed, assimilated, broken apart, and re-made as someone else saw me, and wanted me to be. As my identity receded, my weight increased until I was the insecure and invisible whale of 250 pounds with a pretty face. Totally forgettable to all who met me. Meanwhile, my peacock of a husband strutted about with his own identity issues, oblivious to my needs and offending most of our tiny town. I ran around making apologies, smoothing things over, and trying to raise my daughter to be stronger and wiser then myself.

Somehow, I did succeed with that one important task, and that is a lot to be thankful for. She walks a different road, in a tougher world then most of us did; and by the grace and blessing of the magic of life, has gotten there far better prepared then most of us. My daughter is strong, brilliant, beautiful and brave. She loves deeply and fully, knows when and whom and how to trust appropriately. And how to ask for what she wants. She will always stand up for her friends, and won’t back down even in the face of her own fears. She gives wise and sage advice, even to me, and knows how to get what she wants. She is genuinely kind, but most importantly, she is nobody’s fool. I am proud and envious together. I wish I had half her grace, charm, poise and chutzpah.

Perhaps this rite of passage that I arranged for her, was just another one of my own in disguise. She already had it pretty together. I know this was just a small piece of my daughters journey, and my own. This important event was several promises kept, and one more piece of closure between me and my Ex. Certainly for Devon, it opened the door for a whole new way of approaching life and handling fear, and upholding the Bohemian ideals of truth, freedom, beauty and love -Her thoughts. (Yes. I am quoting Moulan Rouge, deal with it.) And maybe a little for me too. "The greatest thing we'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return".

Devon survived her first tattoo just fine, and my bruised hands and heart will heal again, just like the ink. But it was rough for all of us, the artist, the client the hand holders, the mom... But while the rest of us were running for tequila and cigarettes once it was over, Devon proudly declared that she loved her dragon, and had no regrets. Her leg all red against her super pale, milk like skin, and her face puffy with tears and 2 hours of intense pain. It doesn't always hurt that bad. We moved a lot of repressed energy from her past. From our collective pasts. It really was a rite.

I watched through the window, tears in my eyes as I sucked down a stress cigarette, and allowed my own repressed sobs to escape. Devon turned her leg this way and that, taking pictures with her phone and sending them to her friends. “I’m a bad ass”. She told them. "You wouldn't have been able to handle it." Her tears were finally all gone, replaced with pride and pleasure and snark. “Now all I need is a leather jacket and nice bike. You know, Christmas is coming..."

At last I knew she was fine. The horrid mom-guilt subsided. I laughed, pulled on my game face and went inside.

An All New Year.

Here I sit on Christmas Eve, the house to myself, and the newness following the Winter Solstice unfolding before me. I am excited to explore alternatives to the expected winter holiday symbology, so keep your eyes and minds open. The pages preceding this post are from Fall Quarter. The pages to come (above this one) will be for Winter Quarter, where I hope to continue the explorations I started and refine my focus a bit.

Thanks for reading! The comments, connections and feed back you've all given me are wonderfully helpful and very appreciated! Please feel free to comment directly beneath each article as well. Hope you're all safe, happy and loved!! Happy Holiday Season.

Love Tamia

Special Thanks to:

Kevin Douglas for walks, talks, ideas, insight, technological grace under pressure, relationship savvy, Meg, an open door to me and my “kids”, lots of incredible coffee, and everything else.

Devon Martin, for suggestions, inspiration, mythology notes, and ‘off the waffle’ hand holding.

Jenny Metcalf, for listening, help editing, late night dinners just for me, and tolerating the dog.

Leslie Gray for multiple seminars, all you can eat sushi, gas money, Tuesday morning coffee, forested dog walks, film project involvement, incentives for Europe, and internet access.

Tina Tigerfly for tequila, girl talk, Mama Mia, awesome kids, and sharing your bloggable real life adventures.

Rori O’Neil for direction, Thai food, snarkyness, multiple resources, rose steamers, dressing up dolly, clothes shopping and scritches.

Donald Wickman for gentle consideration, kind words, wisdom, mystery ninja tricks, and snaps.

Penny Parsons for love, support, lending your car and washing machine, and keeping the cat.

Molly Bagshaw for flexibility, feedback, a great sense of humor, cat sitting, and help moving 3x.

Darrell Perko for big shoulders and consistent generosity, Harry Potter, and enjoying food hikes.

River Aaland for your candid kindness, and generally looking after our very dear mutual friend.

And to everyone else who has lent ideas and support in this process. Thank You.

say what!?

Extreme sports have gone too far. Just Google "Extreme Ironing" and LOOK at the photos.

If this isn't ritualistic behavior then I am really missing something here. And so, evidently, are they. Perhaps THIS is what happens to a culture or society without obvious ceremony or ritual. People struggle to fill the gap. At least this isn't too unhealthy - or is it?

As a people, we have found a lot of creative ways to mimic ritual behaviors, instead of having actual rituals. Few of us bother with clothing that has to be ironed anymore, so we’ve invented extreme sports that mimic ironing. I thought it was hilarious, but on seeing this post about Extreme Ironing, my friend Jenny Metcalf said: “This seems more humorous or sad than dangerous at first glance, but maybe it’s a manifestation of a lack. In what ways might this be dangerous?” That got me thinking again.

Perhaps the need for repetition, patterns and ritual is so ingrained in our nature, like the natural cycles and ever changing phases of the moon, and our denial and avoidance of it is so great, that it manifests in other ways when it’s not an intentional part of our secular lives. For some that mockery may look like extreme sports (even extremely absurd), while for others it may be addictions to substances, actions, or behaviors. Maybe this helps explain why we discover more and more of our friends, family and even our selves have a least some level of OCD in some area of daily activity. Locking the door 5 times or spending way to much of our lives on Face book playing virtual games about farming, rather than starting a window box, or a flower pot. The electronic age seems to have distanced all of us but the most dedicated of outdoor enthusiasts and athletes even further from the natural world than previous trends of modern society.

What does this do, to cut a people off from nature, and the natural cycles of the earth, the seasons, the sun and the moon? We’ve got artificial ocean sounds to mimic the tides, but as relaxing as the sound might be, does it actually induce the same state of relaxation in the brain as being there? It’s never worked for me. We have electric lights, and virtual farms. We have fountains in our homes and offices, to make up for the pollution in our rivers and bring us back the soothing sound and spiritual energy of falling water. We have electronic friends, some of whom we never even interact with in RL (real life), We can work by telecommuting, and choose direct deposit for our paychecks. We can have groceries and pizzas delivered to our doors and pay all our bills on-line. We never have to leave our houses!

We have Netflix, on-line ordering for everything under the sun, clothes, shoes, pets, and gifts. There is plenty of internet porn, and five hundred thousand varieties of vibrators, so really, we can just live out our lives plugged into our hard drives, with the illusion that all our needs and desires are met or non-existent. It’s so easy! We never have to become emotionally or physically intimate with another human being, or risk being known, or hurt, or really seen. We complain about feeling lonely or isolated and since we haven't risked opening the door, we don’t realize that everyone else feels it too. We’re all a part of the problem.

NO worries; it would just distract us to much from fulfilling our place in the capitalistic society that we are busy growing. We worship the almighty dollar more than the health, well being, or integrity of our planets many diverse people. Like that is what is important. Let’s all just “friend” each other on a social network and sit home in our underwear with our ice cream and wonder why “someone doesn’t do something” to solve societies problems. I would get up and do something, but it’s almost time to plow my virtual farm again, and make a snarky comment to one of my co-workers new picture posts.

OK, so that was a long rant, but you get the idea, we are not really that far off from this type of existence right now. Accidentally eavesdropping while visiting the military base recently, I got the impression from grown men, soldiers, that the worst thing we think we can do to someone in modern society is to UNFRIEND them on Face book. Wow; are we they confused, these guys are trained killers. But hey, we’re all confused; it’s just a symptom not the cause.

I suspect that we accept and condone this point of view because technology is our primary drug of choice. Yes, it is; and we unknowingly over look the exponential cost it comes with: the loss of self identity, of true connection, the capacity for intimacy, cultural diversity, authentic experience, and attunement to the natural cycles and rhythms of life and love and living. This is what we are losing. We become more and more de-sensitized to the earth, and each other, by living through the lens of technology, and teaching our children to be desensitized as well.

With cultures disappearing at an alarming rate and languages disappearing at the rate of one every two weeks, according to Wade Davis, we might feel inclined to assimilate and not open the door further; to ostrich our heads into the silicon desert. But we need to wake up and make a change. We need to become part of the solution; each of us, making just one small bit of difference, in the authenticity of our own lives.

Technology has not always been our master. When our psychic and electro-magnetic fields were not so cluttered with constant white noise and data transfers, we probably all had telepathy from the slower pace, daily ritual and meditative existence we engaged in by living in alignment with each other and the natural world. While some people might think it’s a crazy notion, there is some evidence that supports ideas of telepathy in the super conscious mind . Before the industrial revolution and the invention of the clock, where time (the fourth dimension) became represented by a measurement of space ( the third dimension), how did we make plans and know when to meet each other to make-out behind the hay stack, or launch the battle, or deliver the baby?

In a world with no text messaging, cell phones, email, or external device like a wrist watch to align us to the same schedule, how did we not only survive, but actually thrive and propagate? We could simply catch the vibe, watch the moon phases, infuse ourselves with the energy of the universe and show up where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. We've all had experiences like this however briefly, and I would venture to say it happens more frequently and longer when we leave technology behind once in a while.

So forget the ironing, extreme or otherwise, unless it really makes you happy, and let’s rebuild intention and attention back into a central part of our lives. Rituals are all around us and when we ascribe meaning to them, and notice them for what they are, we won't be as hungry or hurried to fill the void with absurdity, addictions, or technology. We will recognize what is real, and we will achieve the balance of internal alignment to our purpose and the Divine. We will feel our oneness again. It starts with little choices, little steps once in a while. We don't have to change the world, just our own way of responding to our own individual piece of it. That’s what will make the biggest difference of all.

Rituals of an Addict

In the 20’s and 30’s there were opium and absinthe dens, where the addicts could while away the hours in fantastical dreams, as their bodies and hygiene were neglected in pursuit of the poppy and the green fairy. While we are not an entire country or culture of heroin addicts, we do like our coffee and cigarettes and alcohol. And, it has been successfully argued that addiction to a person, substance or behavior is an addiction none the less, however socially acceptable. Making coffee is one of my favorite rituals and an important aspect of life for me. I love the filters, the beans and smelling the different roasts. I like to grind my own beans, and dust the grinder out with a special little coffee brush. I used to take a camp stove with me on road trips just so I could make myself a proper cup of coffee at rest areas, and scrimp in other areas of life to afford a really good blend.

I first suspected I might have a problem back in the mid 1990’s, when my then 4 year-old daughter told me about her nightmare involving her, me, a giant coffee cup, a coffee grinder and a Melita. Evidently, I was so focused on the coffee-making process that I didn’t hear her calling for help and she got smaller and smaller, as I focused more and more on mixing in the special raw sugar and just the right amount of half and half...

Fast forward 16 years. My daughter no longer remembers having this dream and is nearly as coffee obsessed as I am these days. Starbucks won’t do - it’s the ”McDonalds” of coffee - but several years of hardship and struggling, and raising a kid has made me willing to cheap-out on particular roasts and forgo a certain amount of quality for quantity. I even substitute soy milk for half and half, now that I am off the dairy drug. But please understand, I am not bragging; it’s not something I am proud of, not in this coffee obsessed culture of the Pacific Northwest; it’s more like a somewhat shame-filled confession. In fact, that was exactly how I approached the POPE of Coffee when I last saw him.

A close friend of mine, an ordained priest, jokingly considers himself the Pope of the Church of Coffee. He was undecided if I could obtain absolution for my lack of devotion to the bean, since that man can be starving to death and still insists on buying a roast that is thirteen dollars a pound. I have watched him parcel out his pennies at the end of the month for cigarettes and organic half and half instead of rice and beans - or peanut butter. I am kind of worried about the sanity of this extreme behavior, but I am also a little bit impressed to see someone with very clear priorities, and total faith in things taking care of themselves. I must admit, somehow it seems to work for him, as someone always shows up and feeds him, myself included.

So how many of us are just enabling and perpetuating the addiction in ourselves and each other with this kind of behavior? Is it an acceptable part of our larger society because we indulge it or do we indulge it because it’s acceptable? And who gets to decide the difference? Its true, I bought and cooked a lot of food for my friend The Pope the last time I saw him, and brought my own substandard coffee to keep from consuming to much of his, although I did covet its succulent flavors when I did indulge in it.

I guess you could say I rank as a novice devotee, since I chose to compromise my own coffee integrity to make ends meet and feed my other habits. Like red wine for instance...; don’t get me started on wine. The special accessories one can indulge in, the exclusive conversations, quests, and elitism... it’s like coffee all over again, and both go great with jazz, another indulgence of mine. Thus I postulate that addiction is addicting at least partly because of its ritualistic nature. Saddle up and choose your poison: smoking, coffee, wine, obsessions, cruelty, compulsions, anxiety, drama, sex, food, elitism, arrogance, self denial, cocaine, marijuana, heroin, meth, LSD, self righteousness, religion, or long winded rants at no one in particular.

WOW!

it was so good I watched it 3 times in one week.

http://www.ted.com/talks/wade_davis_on_endangered_cultures.html

toothless grin

Another rite of passage we’ve all been through, is our first loose tooth. Staying awake all night wriggling it, sure its gonna come out at any point now that we feel it moving! The excitement and the certainty of the process becomes our roller coaster. After a few days of excitement and anticipation we adjust and it becomes just a part of our world, our experience. Ya, its getting looser, but its just an immediate part of the Now that we exist in as children. Until finally one day it just falls out in an apple, and we are a mired in wonder once again, as we shove our tongues into the huge, weird tasting hole left behind! This is often our first cognitive experience with the process of growing up and being an active part of life unfolding. Its an entire process, a journey of shared experience, one of our first awareness's of our connection to humanity. When we return to grade school to show our friends the next day, some will lecture us knowingly about what it was like for them, some will stare in wonder and awe, asking questions and making faces, with round eyes of fear and respect. And some, the older kids, will roll their eyes and call us and our friends babies as they run through the play ground and take the ball we dropped as everyone stared at the wriggler. Life goes on, they've been through it, and however frightening a new journey, experience, habit, or behavior may be for those of us on the path for the first time, there is always someone older, wiser, more experienced for whom our avalanche of emotional turmoil is just a well known piece of the pie for a road walked many times, and as familiar as an old pair of shoes. They know there is nothing to worry about and no big danger, its just normal. This is perhaps the most magnificent thing about our human condition. The need to constantly seek new experience, and to live in a state of excitement and adventure, and then to learn it, know it, become its master and share the map with some new greenhorn, bright eyed with fear and wonder, to lend a hand and help trust emerge where perhaps there was none before, to invoke a sense of strength and confidence in our successors before we move along the road to our next new experience. We journey from novice to master to teacher, then set out on new roads where we can begin the cycle again, and conquer new fears and hurdles in our quest to eventually realize were all the same, -even in our differences. We are one. back at home, some of us will find money in exchange for the lost tooth when its left under our pillow. But its the shared experience, the little rite of passage and experiential learning that comes from it that is the real gift, the actual exchange. But the tooth fairy idea leads me to the question, what do other cultures do?

Homecoming

After a long journey, I love the first moment after opening the front door and smelling the good familiarity of home. Our olfactory sense is directly wired to our limbic or instinctual brain,and the brain reacts in some interesting ways to smell. Teaching aromatherapy classes to massage students, I frequently have to explain to my students how after the initial processing of a new smell, the brain begins to filter it out of our conscious sensory perceptions, even if we are still reacting to it. Home smells good, but we can only smell it those first few moments, then we become desensitized to it, even though we still react by calming down, feeling safe, and relaxing easily in that environment. We choose and react to a mate in the same fashion. Initially attracted by the unique scent (beyond deodorants and perfumes) of our lover, we may, eventually over time, not be aware of it at all, but still experience a physical and physiological response of sexual attraction when that person is near. My second husband could always tell if I was about to get sick, or if I was under emotional duress because my smell would change and he could perceive it. So if emotional upheaval has a perceptible smell to it, maybe there really is a “smell” of fear, that dogs or bees, or predators can sense. So while some behavior is ritualistic, some ritual behaviors are directed by smell: arousal, aggression, hunger, nurturing, sleepiness, relaxation, even anger. It depends on what you are smelling. Burnt toast? Smell enhances and has direct links to memory, and can be a ritual of its own simply by recreating a psycho-emotional experience in the brain, for good or ill.
The smell of honeysuckle is one of my very favorite scents. It takes me back to being 7 or 8 years old, and independent, invincible, limited to neither male or female ideals, and imagination was everything. I really could fly, and stop time, and nothing existed at all until I knew about it first hand. There were no theories to cloud the mind with logic and ice, just the warmth of the sun on our faces, and the rainbows in the parking lot puddles, and chocolate pudding at friends houses. The aroma of Garlic and burgers takes me to the age of 11, and down home dinner on the ranch, where my grandmother would toast the sourdough, and make the garlic butter from scratch for their famous hamburger sandwiches, served to every visitor for thier first meal. It was usually home raised beef, so the flavor was something we indulged at “home coming” even during our vegetarian teen years. An important ritual to start the summer off, and mark another year gone by. Roses make me blissfully happy and I feel connected to nature, and God, and humanity, and the whole darn planet and cosmos. They make everything seem right with the world regardless of what is going on. There is a special rose garden I frequent, by a river, and I journey there whenever something or someone very important comes into my life and I want to know why. Like taking tea, I am able to step outside of transition, and rise above the fray of the battlefield to see the perfection of the larger picture, and the clear light of direction shining in my life. Walking around smelling the roses, flitting from flower to flower like a honey bee, I find the answers I seek and I somehow just know what to do, and with whom, the “why” usually sorts itself out shortly after. My confidence in the direction I receive is intimidating to some people, and generally catches them off guard when I act on it. Smell is a powerful influencer.
This shows the allure of incense, herbs, and essential oils in ceremonial settings. Certainly large corporate chains have used it to influence our spending habits for years, (Walmart, Victoria's Secret, Target, Mrs. Fields, Nordstroms, to name a few) so it makes sense that we should become aware of it and utilize it for our own well being. Aromatherapy maybe like casting spells after all. And I just wanted to clear my head, take a hot salt bath, and freshen the air. Hey! What do you know? Its another homecoming ritual. So We do have them, and create them all around our secular lives after all.

Heartache and Hook ups

Something about heartache and disappointment, or unfulfilled expectations carries some of us to inspect the inside of a tequila bottle. What an interesting and self destructive ritual, but a ritual just the same. When something we care about or have vested interest in does not work out according to our petty human plans, we can walk away, try again, lick our wounds, plot revenge, or just give up. But the emotional component needs an outlet, and the siren song of self destructive behavior is a road to easily indulged, but still a fairly common response to the multifaceted human condition. Some people have a healthier way to nurture themselves through disappointment, but we’ve all made choices we regret from pain, numbness, anger, or apathy. Drinking your problems away just gives you problems and a hangover, but even the physical pain of this condition is a ritual of its own sort, and many would argue that in modern American culture learning to manage ones drink, and crying through the results of NOT managing it are common rites of passage for many young adults. Learning self control, moderation and natural consequences for behavior is an important skill for managing ones life in the modern world.
Some people might fast, or pray or meditate, or immerse themselves in someone else's problems in order to lose track of their self pity and make a positive difference in their community. But what happens when a person is struggling with a major life crises, or transition, or loss of identity, or a spouse, or a child? Certainly grief is a process, and everyone handles it differently and at their own pace, and their is no one right way to get through it, tequila, meditation, dancing naked under the full moon, or moving to a new city to rebuild ones identity with a new life. Time is the common thread, and there is no way to rush it, push it or hurry it up. “You can’t step in the same river twice.” Nor can you push the river for your own plans.
Sitting around, nursing my own problems I chose to lean on a friend. While visiting, my friend had an old flame visit one night for a hook up. It was interesting to observe the “remember when” talk, and the mating dance of casual familiarity, and best behavior. The boastful stories of sexual or alcoholic prowess, previous relationship navigation's, and work life interpersonal skills. Laughing at everyone's “party piece” stories and bad jokes. The mating dance, whether its a hook up, or a heartfelt love connection is a ritual, a ceremony, and even a rite of passage in any kind of relationship. My favorite is the unrestrained expressions of appreciation for the other persons time, talent, effort and interest, an expression that often seems to fade to a bitter place of expectation at later stages in relationships.

Feast of Gratitude

Thanksgiving is my Favorite Holiday, and it’s uniquely American. I love the food, and the gathering of friends and family. I love taking the time to think about gratitude and being thankful for what we have in our lives even when life isn't going the way we want it to. I love the way we put so much thought and preparation into the feast and the gathering, so that every little thing is just right according to our own particular traditions in the whole. Sure most people have the traditional meal of turkey and stuffing and some kind of pie but the side dishes are varied and often a vitally unique piece of this puzzle to each family group. I once had someone request lumps in the mashed potatoes. For some people it’s just not thanksgiving without candied yams, or green beans, or apple banana salad in a special heirloom bowl.

My favorite is to host the dinner, which in my world lasts for all four days of the weekend. The games, and movies, and activities engaged in over the entire weekend, as well as the various breakfasts are all part of the tradition and ritualized experience, as much as the feast itself. Let’s face it, as a country we like to eat. And fattening up before the winter with shared resources is a very interesting kind of ceremony with deep roots and purpose, regardless of how some people just fatten up to go shopping these days, which is a fattening ritual filled with unconscious symbolism of its own.

Winter can be cold, and dark and long. Building up a stock pile of supplies, and a layer of fat can insure basic survival. Sure nowadays we have electric lights and fireplaces, huge furnaces, and can walk to the corner store when we need more soup. But that was not always the case. Having a huge feast or community gathering was one way to account for everyone, and be sure we were all set to get through winter. The tradition of going in groups from house to house, Christmas caroling, was really a way to check on the neighbors and to make sure everyone still had enough food at midwinter. We would do it again around February first, checking up and sharing firewood through the community. We might call it Imbolc, or St. Brigid's Day, or just a fire festival, but there it is another little tradition, or ritual to check on the health and well being of the community at large in the coldest climates.

Without these rituals we are isolated again, even from our closest neighbors. Our sense of connection is diminished, and our dependence on technology increases. No wonder so many people perish in the heat or cold when New York City has a black out. According to James Burke and his documentary series “Connections”, all this chaos was the ultimate result of the invention of the plow. So dig in, feast up, invite the neighbors and consider how we are all connected and it’s probably a good thing. Also, enjoy some different programming this holiday and expand your mind along with your belly, and be grateful we live in the information age where we still have the freedom to do that.

http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/james-burke-connections/

Clockwork Orange

It has been my opinion since starting this research that our society has few if any rituals, or rites of passage which is a big part of what is wrong with us, why we feel disconnected and why people seem to be increasingly desensitized to cruelty and violence. Its not the only reason, but it certainly seems to contribute. But where is it taking us and what would that look like? According to some, the cult film classic “A Clockwork Orange” gives us a fantastic cinematic representation of what happens to an individual in a society devoid of meaning, rituals and rites of Passage: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0066921/

"In future Britain, charismatic delinquent Alex DeLarge is jailed and volunteers for an experimental aversion therapy developed by the government in an effort to solve society's crime problem... but not all goes according to plan. Director: Stanley Kubrick, Writers: Stanley Kubrick (screenplay), Anthony Burgess (novel) Stars: Malcolm McDowell, Patrick Magee and Michael Bates"

This is an ugly view but probably not far off the mark. According to Men's writer Robert Bly, a youth with no positive male mentor or rituals for Rites of Passage is very likely to become a violent, undirected thug without morals or any sense of belonging to his community. To fill this inner need and drive and lack of recognition and direction he may form or join street gangs with other unguided or misguided youth. -Left with a sense of connection only to his gang members and those he can intimidate or exert power over. He is an individual without hope of growth, improvement of his lot in life, or meaning in the present or the future. Power and violence are what make him feel strong. Possibly what make him feel anything at all.

According to Bly the solution lies in rebuilding community in the neighborhoods, of getting the elders to step up and mentor the youth, and to give them acknowledgment of what it means to be caring, gentle, strong, responsible men. Men must be with other, older responsible men to do this. What about women? -It seems to be a bit easier for them as in general they have more opportunities to be with older women in the extended family circle and activities that women share.


http://www.pbs.org/kued/nosafeplace/interv/bly.html

Robert Bly: "And we have to realize that the greatest danger to the culture is coming from these young unparented males all over the world. And if we want to do something about that, instead of pouring money in from Washington, one thing you would do is you would go to South Los Angeles and you would ask in the black communities who is a responsible older male here. And they would know. They only know that at the block level. Then you'd go to that older man and you'd say to him, “Listen, I'm gonna give you eighteen thousand dollars and I want you to keep two young men out of prison in that time.. It costs thirty-five thousand to keep a young man in prison. It costs more to keep a young man in prison than to send him to college.” And the older man then has something to do and the younger man has someone to talk to and be with. And it's astonishing the changes that come in young men when that happens."

So elders and mentors may help to create and recognize rites of passage, and are important for the safety, well being, and healthy development of community in our societies. We do have them, but they are often subtle, overlooked, or go unrecognized. Some mentors may come and go in our lives, some coming of age rites may include little to no pomp or circumstance but appear as mundane or secular activities to the participants: babysitting younger children, taking the city bus alone, learning to drive, menstruation, wet dreams, interest in sex, becoming sexually active, graduations, quinceanera, barmitzvah, batmitzvah, vision quests, college road trips, traveling to a foreign city or country alone, marriage, becoming a parent, and more. Robert Bly gives us the solution for creating mentors and community, but what can we do to increase the celebration factor of these important events and add to the ritual, sense of meaning and importance in identity development for the individual and their sense of place in community in the broad spectrum? and do we need to?

Fall out

As children we often have perfect faith in our parents (our gods) and the world that is presented to us. Over time we slowly learn that we cannot always count on people, or circumstances. People let us down, even the ones we trust most, or don’t live up to our ideals, parents are not always all knowing, all loving deities but common human beings facing hurdles and challenges and tests of character that they do not always overcome. As small children everything is bigger than we are and faith in something even bigger is not much of a stretch, to imagine daddy always catching us, the freeway extending to eternity and some giant god figure always looking out for our interests. But eventually we grow up and have to face the emotional letdown of being in charge of ourselves, our own wellbeing and our own moral code. This is the point at which many religions step in to fill the gap. So is a child brought up in a religious culture less likely to face a crises of faith later in life or during troubling events?
As a child with perfect faith in the world, and everything in it, I remember the terror I felt when I first heard of “Galloping Gertie” the bridge across the Tacoma Narrows that buckled in a heavy windstorm, and realized that the things built by man were fallible. I was terrified to cross bridges by car for many years after that. It was also my first introduction to the devastation possible in nature. Something I had been brought up to feel I was connected to and a part of. Now the natural world that I had never really distinguished as a force separate from the rest of my world became suspect and angry and dangerous. The very idea sent me hiding under a blanket in the back seat for years, and I had travel terrors about drowning in a car until well into my twenties. But it wasn’t really the force of nature I feared, but the arrogance of man. To this day even extreme weather and natural events such as earth quake, hurricane and tsunami fail to strike fear in me despite evidence to the contrary. My personal trust in nature itself and connection with the earth and the natural world prevails even when faith in every other part of life or belief systems has failed.

Exploring Myths

Exploring Myths


Curious about the evolution of myth and its tie in to ritual, ceremony and celebration, I visited the University of Oregon campus to sit in on a few Classical Mythology lectures, with my daughter Devon.

She lent me her text book for the two weeks I was there: Classical Mythology written by Harris, Stephen L., and Gloria Platzner, and I was particularly struck by the section on Structuralism and Myth: “Most physiological theorists regard myths as a natural expression of the psyche - one that functions therapeutically to purge unacceptable desire, provide creative energy, reconcile individuals to their environment, and attribute moral order and meaning to the universe. Structuralism further refines this concept as viewing myth as a refinement of the minds binary organization.” This supports my views on the need for faith, spiritual beliefs, and the human condition without ritual or ceremony.

The text later goes on to say: “The newest approach to myths is not cultural but biological, experiments have revealed that when individuals were in an intense of prayer or meditation the neurons in a section of the brains parietal lobe (responsible for spatial orientation and awareness of one’s body) stop firing” … and even further, “ Not only do people who suffer temporal lobe seizures often have intense religious experiences, but stimulation of the temporal lobes in healthy subject also induce such experiences even if the subjects had no previous inclinations or beliefs”. I find this highly significant to our human experience and the unconscious rituals we sometimes create. These thoughts stayed with me as I continued to explore more every day experiences.

The class was instructed by Christina Calhoon, and the main lecture was about Dionysus. “The God of Enlightenment through Partying.” Later, Devon and I discussed its relevance and possible connections to my work. We were in the time of year filled with parties, celebrations and family traditions, one of which for some people is to drink too much to tolerate the stress that seems to accompany the family gatherings. Thanks Giving was only days away.

When I posed the question: what happens when an anticipated ceremony does not take place?” Devon responded from her own knowledge and notes, “The type of reaction depends on the type of ceremony or ritual that has not occurred, and the cultural myths surrounding that ceremony or ritual. Such as the Greeks sacrificing bulls, and giving them a reason to eat beef, even though cows were rare. Without the charter myths, eating beef becomes an occasional activity with no real meaning or purpose.”

Reenactment of heroic deeds, purification ceremonies, and historic events serve as ritualized reminders to people, for moral behavior, promise of a better future, or redemption. Rituals help control violent behavior and channel aggression in the populace. The baseball ritual is a prime example of a regular and important ritual. Watching it on television doesn’t have the ambiance and ritualized participation of being in the ball park, where one can smell the popcorn, sing the songs, and pay to much money for an old hot dog and half a cup of stale beer. These seemingly mundane things put together add to the joy of the ritualized experience. And if a game or sporting event were to be canceled or not occur, fans generally become angry, destructive and even violent, whether in their living rooms, or in the stadium parking lot.

Devon said, “It’s easy to see how the transfer of ritual was made from religious to secular activities. The Greeks held the Olympics to honor the Gods. Modern sports have their own "gods" and heroes and legends. Some sports were historically played to honor important events such as the death of Caesar, in ancient Rome. In roman history early history is closely tied to myth. After the death of Caesar, the brightest comet in history passed the earth, during the games held honoring his life. It was believed that this was his soul being taken to the heavens by Venus.”

So faith and religion and myth are closely bound together, across societies and cultures. Ceremonies, celebration and ritual are a frequent part of that. Myths explain the origins of things and set the stage for religion. So ritual is an activity that carries symbolism and meaning forward, to sanctify a course of action, decision, or promise for the individual or community.

Impotence

What happens to a person or society when an expected ceremony or ritual does NOT take place?
There is an emptiness, a sense of anger, and uselessness that infuses the individual psyche, with existentialism and apathy. A change is needed, sensed, anticipated, even prepared for, and then the ceremony or ritual does not take place, and nothing happens. The status quo is maintained, (for good or ill), or even reverts to a previous stage of influence on behavior, desire and motivation. A sense of depression and futility ensues. And the actions one takes around that can very from homicide and suicide on one end of the spectrum to false euphoria, intense grief or denial on the other. Yet it often seems to be this very state of mind, this depression that requires us to reach outside of ourselves or search deeper within and appeal to a higher power, source or deity.
Rituals help us to recognize and honor the gods and spirits we revere, and to face the helplessness we humans face in our everyday lives and routines, especially when we realize there really is very little about our lives and worlds in our direct control. Unrequited or unconsummated love, loss of work and personal/community identity, traumatic events, violence, or a death in the family are problems many of us face everyday. How do we cope and heal and get back to meaningful productive lives?
Letting go and living in the NOW generally requires trust in something outside ones self and sphere of direct and personal influence. Religious or spiritual beliefs help us to attribute meaning or a sense of acceptance to those things beyond our control. Accepting things as they are with no hope of change or improvement isn't an easy part of human nature. We are wired to seek more, to push the envelope of our experience to new limits, crescendos, and moments of renewal. We have seen across cultures, tragedy and holocaust, that it is often the very idea and power of faith itself that allows the avenue of improvement to proceed or manifest through the most difficult of circumstances, the attitude of carrying on, persevering, and riding out the storm, the drought, or the imprisonment. Faith is a powerful tool opening the door to many experiences of increased good. But where does this faith come from? What challenges it? What forms and shapes it and grooms it? And what happens to a society or people without it?

Milk shakedown

Sitting in a burger joint, I ordered a milkshake. I don't normally indulge in the dairy drug, but it had been one of those days following one of those weeks, smack in the middle of one of those months. I presume I don't have to explain what I mean by that, because everyone has their own version of what that means. It is a shared or common experience of our modern culture and society to know what those ominous words allude to emotionally even if not specifically. I just needed a great big, old fashioned, real ice cream milkshake to go with my giant, juicy hamburger and fries that afternoon. As I indulged this ravenous, and delectable dairy binge, knowing I would regret it for the next four days, I was struck with the wondering of WHY did I feel such a need and a drive to fulfill it so indulgently. And as I realized that this strange indulgence was a particularly ritualistic piece of middle modern America, my milkshake arrived for me to deconstruct. “What is it that makes me desire this? And what is it that makes this good?” The tumbler half full of extra shake is as much an important part of this ritual as the straw, the spoon and the flavor. It is a little personal ceremony to scrape it out and lick the spoon, like moms baking batter, or bread hot from the oven. Some things, especially around food, have a very important ritualistic component as an integral part of what makes the experience good, important and worthwhile... But I do not know WHY that is. The more questions I ask on this journey, the more I seem to get or encounter as part of my search for the answers.

shared experience: Ritual or Habit?

I am fascinated by the little everyday rituals that we perform and participate in often unconsciously, like the kiss goodbye to the loved one, or the daily latte, or the order of our morning or bedtime activities. One ritual that helps us relate to our culture and some class aspects of our white middle class society is the morning latte, or coffee shop experience. One waits in line, makes the monumental decision of which pastry to eat, and what kind of heated beverage to wash it down with, then obediently pays their fee, and finally relinquishes the witty banter of the barista to the next person and moves to the opposite counter to await their piece of this dogmatic culture. Once the beverage is placed before us, we may sit at a cafe table and checks our email, or read the news like half the rest of the clientele. Not everyone can indulge this type of daily or even weekly ritual, but the idea and understanding of it is assumed, expected and extremely prevalent in Northwestern and urban societies. Shared experiences like this one and others are important for a sense of belonging in any group of people. Fitting into a new group, job, church, or social structure depends on the ability to find and discuss shared experiences with others of the same group.

Out with my roommate on one of our routine internet access searches for job hunting and solidifying holiday travel plans, I watched as she created the shared experience she had described to me when we went to a local coffee shop to use the internet. Times are hard and with each of us struggling to find enough work to pay our share of the rent, internet is a luxury we just cannot afford, it hits somewhere out past the power bill, laundry and groceries. We frequent a busy cafe attached to a book store, so its not as obvious or annoying to the cafe workers that we never purchase anything, but the smells of the food and coffee are nerve wracking when ones belt is tightened. I watched over my lap top while she sat in her very nice looking clothing, expensive earrings and every hair in place, sipping coffee from a paper cup that she had picked up from the bank across the street, and eating a danish from home. We had picked the danish up from the local food bank the day before, but when she got to her mall job later in the day, she would be able to describe her “shared experience” of the coffee shop lifestyle to her coworkers, and they would never suspect that she would be lucky to pull in and live on a mere $800 dollars this year. This recession that supposedly isn't one has fostered a lot of desperation borne creativity in people that is manifesting in different ways. If tattoos are a poor mans way to have and own artwork, as well as being a rite of passage for certain populations and cultures, then creative ways of social climbing are rituals and ceremonial gestures of their own. If only to maintain a common ground of conversation to fit in better with ones coworkers, and maintain a five hour a week job in an economy where every part time job expects bachelors degrees, open availability and priority over any other job, and only pays minimum wage.

Burning Ritual/ ceremony

Burning ritual/ ceremony

We took old taxes, love letters and personal papers to the local beach. We sought out wet logs, and large pebbles to create a fire pit. working with found materials and the earths natural fuel. We lit sage, and smudged each other, and called the directions, we thanked the great Spirit for our lives and blessings and the lessons we have had, and asked for help to release the past. We banished worry, and invoked prosperity and self worth, We asked for help finding employment and not loosing my car because I cannot afford the payments and insurance. We jumped over the flames, laughed at the birds and the wind and the waves. Sang songs and drank peppermint hot chocolate. By the time we left we felt strong, and grounded and clear, and calm and very thankful and forgiving. It was a beautiful day. We thanked the Spirit and the directions, and the elements. We vowed to do this much more often. We went home and as we plunged back into the mundane world of errands and others we felt overexposed, to vulnerable to their harsh inconsideration. By the time we'd had dinner with some well meaning friends and made it home we both felt sick to our stomachs from swallowing their careless, condemning words and judgments along with our dinner. We had to eat something in the safety of our own cocoon just to try and erase some of the damage. We cried inside at the lack of ceremony, and sensitivity in even our closest friends because they like us live in a culture that worships consumerism and the dollar, instead of openly honoring what is truly sacred and beautiful, and makes the world a better place to BE ones true self. We realized that even if other people are brusk with it or shoot us down we must continue to practice being real, being vulnerable, being authentic as often as we can. Living in the moment and releasing the past whether its a moment ago, an hour ago, or the treasured wounds of our childhoods. We have to do the best we can regardless of how its received or perceived. This is the only way to feed the Soul and keep it alive, and living through poverty makes you realize what it is that is truly valuable.

What is it!?

I am fascinated with the spontaneous eruption of what I have come to call the Happy Dance, people caught up in little tiny moments of profound joy, excitement and celebration. The scope of my project is to directly observe when and how this occurs in people, and what the variations are across cultures, heritage, and social-economic lines.

While there are undoubtedly many writings on the subject of rites of Passage, and ceremony from Jungian philosophy to the ideas of Joseph Campbell and as a classmate suggested even Robert Bly, my project is based on the instances I can directly observe in the world around me, and or interview real people about, to remove the results from the realm of theory and have it be applicable to the real world.

How will I do this? I will live my life and observe my own and my friends reactions to everyday circumstances and events from the mundane to the profound. From the moment to moment events in our lives: a new dishwasher, a new apartment, a new love, to the holidays that mark the passage of time and seasons, and how we as a people and culture react and choose to participate in the observance of these celebrations or not.

I will theorize and pontificate on the the significance of a daily latte, and the irrelevance of post, post modern-commericalism. I will tie it all together with ideas to expand the scope of my project into the next quarter and hopefully the next significant step to the research and travel for direct observation and experiential learning of the Happy Dance itself.


Lack of ceremony in the form of rites of passage for average American culture can point to such extremes as the total downfall of society and values as proposed in Stanley Kubricks “ A Clockwork Orange”. While some of the upper echelons of society may have debutant balls as a public coming of age acknowledgment for their young women, but this sort of over the top presentation to society is hardly the normal circumstance for much of our society. While Jewish culture has Barmitzvah, Batmitzvah, for young men and women respectively, and Latin Americans have a Quincertanos celebration for a young woman's 15th birthday celebration, - which is often as elaborate and expensive to the family as a wedding, there seem to be fewer such rites of passage for men, which perhaps leads to the allure of gangs.

All this food for thought brings me to a personal realization that while I have had the fortune to be raised with an unusual exposure to Native American culture, I spent many summers growing up with the Chiloquin tribe on their sacred ceremonial land, and participated in special ceremonys each summer, I have not always had the time, energy, knowledge or resources to provide my own daughter with the Rites of Passage for her own life and development that I think are so tragically lacking from our own culture.

As a Thanksgiving baby we have always acknowledged my daughters Birthday with an extra big celebration of that uniquely American holiday, and a side party just for her. But how does that translate to a Rite of Passage? At 13 I taught her to walk in the dream world, to remember and practice controlling her dreams. This is a skill that has served her well and far surpasses my own abilities. At other ages I made special acknowledgment of her growth and development as well, but something still seems lacking. Even her graduation from high school last year, while recognized by our society as an important rite, seems lacking in some basic elements of personalization to give it the significance to the individual it proposes to be.




As a project for this class I want to construct an acknowledgment of my daughters coming of age. I am going to visit her for her birthday. She is 19 and a freshman at the U of O. Lets see what I can come up with. Ideas run rampant through my imagination. A sense of ceremony is surely in order, as well as Celebration, and some kind of symbolism. A task or accomplishment would be good and perhaps a significant alteration, endowment or marking. A tattoo comes to mind, simply because she wants one, and it is an art I studied at one time and was taught to do. My own first tattoo was a rite of passage I sought for myself, and the few pieces of art I have on my body are all very significant and meaningful. After working in the Body art industry for nearly a decade, I have unique opinions and talents in that arena, but my desire for this project and my interest in rites of passage far surpasses that. Body art was simply one step on that larger journey and exploration of this entire subject. I want to create something that breaks through the shell of apathy and existentialism, into a place that fosters fulfillment and passion, and excitement at being alive, excitement and anticipation for the journey ahead. For myself, for others, for my adult child, for society.

POA

define: ceremony
ritual
Celebration
happy dance

research dance, dance rituals of indigenous peoples, VS disco/ nightclub scene
observe spontaneous eruption of celebration

What constitutes CEREMONY? How and why is it important in our lives? How does it show up in our lives and across cultures? Through time? Politics? Religion? History? Relationships?

How do you intend to explore the topic? Books, interviews, questions? Experiences? Travels? Research? Happy Dance documentary filming? Dance as celebration as ceremony?

What is ritual?

Rituals: IMHO

Repetitive activities or actions. We have a thousand rituals every week, every day, from the morning routine to the worship of our deities. From the number of times we clink our spoon against the coffee cup, to the coffee itself.

Our daily routines become rituals that mold who we are and who we become, as well as influence the future choices we make. Waking up and stretching, watching cartoons, hurrying out the door with two small children and arguing them into their shoes and coats to catch the bus. All these things can become rituals and often do, yet we don't often think of them that way: The morning paper, the route we take to work, walking the dog, even doing the shopping.

The Vision: how it began

It started with a spark, a vision of pure spontaneous joy, boundless in its mired expressions, bursting forth from humanity. I've observed it across years in my friends, loved ones, even strangers. We all have a happy dance. Usually several for different occasions or circumstances. Most of us are completely unaware of our own happy dance. A happy dance is a completely spontaneous, physical expression of joyousness or satisfaction, that cannot be duplicated, contrived, or recreated. It is an authentic spark of spirit, of passion, of life form in in purest unbridled essence, escaping our usually rigid mannerisms, and controlled expressions.

For years I've said I want to study happy dances, and the hows and why of what makes them what they are. So here begins the journey of this task. a Journey that has started with more questions to be answered before lift off then I bargained on. So here we begin, to explain, define, and expound on the ideas behind and woven through happy dance, one at a time. These definitions and explanations come from conversations, reading, and popular culture as well as my own observation, education and theory. I will always attempt to give full credit where it is due to the ideas herein, and most especially with direct quotes.