Collective Joy

Dear Madonna,

I was listening Tapestry a few weeks ago (that's the the quasi-religious program on CBC radio) and they were discussing the the phenomenon of "Collective Joy" - a kind of shared, spiritual peak experience that happens in groups. It was surpising how many of the examples involved dance - either spontaneous or otherwise.

It got me thinking.

Often after we've been to a dance event - and we've gorged ourselves on great dances with multiple partners over the course of two or three days - there's kind of a post mortem discussion around who was your best dance of the weekend. I've always found that a difficult question to answer. My own experience is best described as getting "in the zone" - where I simply can't have a bad dance. I guess I'm kind of flattering myself, comparing my dancing to the skills of elite athletes, but what if something else is going on?

As I connect with my partner, and the music, and the floor - am I not also connecting with the overall energy in the room? And if that energy is a postitive one - joyful and passionate - why wouldn't it manifest itself in my dancing?

It was an especially joyful night last night, dancing in the New Year and it seems apt that we'll be dancing to Gospel music today.

Hope your New Year is filled with Joy!

Julie

“Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful”

Dear Madonna,

I can think of no better call to action, when it comes to a decluttering, than that quote by William Morris. And while I'm not a big fan of New Year's Resolutions, it seems inevitable, or at least natural, to embrace an "out with the old, in with the new" mentality at the start of a new calendar year.

So this month I've embarked on a course of new beginnings and fresh starts that has led to, among other things:

• the culling of my underwear drawer
• the ousting of old, threadbare towels (which remained in my possession for purely sentimental reasons)
• the purchase of a paisley scarf shower curtain, pictured above
• the launch of my new website: http://www.towestcoast.com/

The latter is still a work in progress, as are a number of projects around the Home Zone designed to make my work-living space more, well, workable and live-able. Oh, and I've finally admitted defeat in the battle against of cat-hair and a general lack of skill (or interest) in housekeeping; I've hired a cleaning lady.

What I still need to figure out is what to do with things that are only ephemerally useful and beautiful but which - like a drug - are so, so difficult to give up.

Ciao Bella,
Julie

Out, damn'd spot

Dear Madonna,

As a follow up to a routine physical examination my doctor ordered the removal of a mole on the back of my left arm. It was sent to the lab, and in the words of my friend Marilyn, "didn't pass the test". Nothing like the C-word to give pause, even when couched in reassurances about depth of penetration and highest cure rates.

I was sent to a special surgical unit at the hospital. Another incision was made and (it seems) a pound of flesh was taken from the offending area. I get the stitches out tomorrow and the next step, I think, will be a visit to the dermatologist to have tasteful nude photos taken of my entire body. I'm envisioning some arty, black and white prints to grace my file.

I'm feeling well cared-for and am doing my best to keep worry at bay. And I'm eating a lot of broccoli.

Julie

More Ways I'm Becoming My Mother

Dear Madonna,

Look at this picture. It was taken at the United Salseros (http://www.unitedsalseros.com/ Halloween Party. Of course I'm wearing a boa, and the Phantom of the Opera is totally checking me out, but my eyes are closed! That's like nearly every picture of my mother ever taken!!

I've started to notice little ways in which I'm becoming my mother. Like the size of purse I'm hauling around these days. It's perfect for carrying all sorts of things, like dance shoes and a book to read on the subway - Arjay Santano actually called it my "Mary Poppins Bag" - but it's HUGE. My mother used to always carry these humungous shapeless bags, and then my dad would get annoyed when she would have to rummage around inside it to find something. Yet she was always prepared, and half the time Dad was telling her "Here, throw this in your purse" so he wouldn't have to carry anything.

Then there's my makeup. When did I start wearing eyeliner? My mother ALWAYS wore eyeliner. In fact she'd have her whole face "done" before waking any of us up for breakfast. It was years before I ever saw what she looked like without makeup.

And it's not just the eyeliner use that has me worried. When I was cleaning out her house I must have thrown away 25 tubes of lipstick, all different brands, of pretty much the same colour - the colour I'm wearing now!

She's in my thoughts these days, as are Dad and Mike. I miss them.

Julie

Not Just for Kids

Dear Madonna,

Thanks so much for filling on on Friday night. It was so great that you could get away from all your charitable deeds in Malawi long enough to teach a West Coast Swing lesson and deejay at the Toronto Swing Dance Society's Halloween Dance.

Don't you love Halloween? There's no other time of the year where you can walk around wearing - quite literally - whatever you want. I can't believe that for so many years I didn't take advantage of this opportunity, especially since playing dress-up was such a favourite game as a child. I vividly remember some of the items in the dress-up box:

• My mother's pale pink wedding dress and matching pink open-toed sling-backs
• A blue velvet dress with white maribou collar (which eventually detached and could be used with other outfits)
• A black off-the-shoulder top that my mother told me was part of a Halloween costume she wore, as a Beatnik
• Silver and clear plexiglass Cinderella slippers!

What else do I like about Halloween? Dancing with a fireman, a cross dresser, a pirate, a super hero and Satan himself - all in one night :)

Julie

Artfully Amused

Dear Madonna,

I was in Montreal last weekend, primarily to I attended workshops hosted by Dance Conmigo and taught by John Lindo. Had a really, really good time. Stayed in Old Montreal, walked (and walked!) all over the city, and even got to see a Waterhouse exhibit at the Musee de Beaux Arts.

His work shares a Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic, although he came much later, and I particularly loved the "woman-as-wise-soceress" motif. Sirens and Niaids, images from Greek myths and Roman history, Homer's Odyssey and, of course, the Lady of Shallott...All very erudite and fanciful and hugely satisfying. There were even parallels drawn between the themes of the works to the Zeitgeist of the 1890's, in which they were painted, addressing the "gender roles and calls for women to be socially and politically independent alongside a demand for proper sexual fulfillment".

I realized, while eating a falafel for lunch at Bustians on Crescent Street afterwards, that it's been a long time since I've fed my art habit. Far too long. So today, being a gorgeous sunny, fall day I took myself to an outdoor art installation up in Willowdale. Five war-time houses, long abandoned and slated for demolition, have been transformed into - well, it's hard to describe. The first one has been painted completely green to resemble the little plastic green houses from a Monopoly game. Another had a car crashing in the front window. There was an odd little video about gay penguins, and some archival pictures of the area. You can check out the website at www.leonadrive.ca

I've also made a date with woman who lives in my building, Maury (of indeterminate age she still wears make-up and locomotes on high heels *and* a cane) to go and see the Vanity Fair photo exhibit at the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) next month.

Missed you on SNL recently; you should have told me you were going to be on!

Ciao,
Julie

Cruise Control

Dear Madonna,

Driving back from Ottawa a few weeks ago (I was invited there to teach and deejay for Swing Dynamite's 4th Anniversary) and "picked up" a cute guy on the highway in black Mustang convertible. That is - he was driving at a consistent speed and positioned myself to follow at at safe distance.

It's a trick my friend, Dianne, taught me years ago: find someone driving the speed limit and cruise along behind - and it's a great strategy for someone with a (genetically predisposed?) tendency to speed. It reminded me of when I was working for Resorts Atlantic and I drove the Cabot Trail for the first time. I came across a guy on motorcycle, wearing one of those buckskin leather with fringe down both sleeves, and followed him for about an hour.

There's a dance analogy in there somewhere - keeping an even distance from the Leader, hanging back, but all the time controlling my own speed and power.

September was such a busy month, culminating with the Swing Niagara Dance Championships where I taught some classes and my dance team, "That's What I'm Talking About" competed. (The piece was choregraphed to Toronto Jazz/R&B singer Dione Taylor's song "Little Black Dress" and the girls all wore LBDs; the guys were in lavender shirts and skinny black ties.) We had a couple of really significant individaul wins (Yay Giselle! Yay Wij!) and as community we brought home the Pro-Am Challenge Cup. Go T.O.!!

Bye for now,

Julie