Let go

 "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not seek the answers that cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."
                          Rainer Maria Rilke




In each of us there is a battle between good and evil. And I don't mean in the religious demons vs. angels or god vs. the devil sensationalist sense. I mean, in the decisions we make in our everyday lives that collectively make us the people we want to become. Most of us never think that deeply about who we are or how our thoughts create the people we will evolve into. A lot of us are just surviving the day to day until those trying situations in our lives commands us to confront ourselves.


I have taken a job teaching kids how to dance, ironically at the school where I grew up. And, despite the chitter chatter of judgmental voices like wicked stepmothers spinning threads of criticism into my head, I am awestruck when in the midst of my disciplining and coaching, I have a breakthrough with one of my kids. When I get through to one of the troubled ones, we'll call her Big Al, and all of a sudden she is the first one getting the choreography, telling the other kids to put a sock in it as she shamelessly shakes her head at their misbehavior and is excited to show me choreography of her own.


Or when my little ones, the five year olds, run and hug me, look up with their big eyes and say, "Ms. Natalie, I love you." Or, "we had an amazing time," or "you're awesome". When they ramble on and on about their lives- in that moment I feel my whole life has purpose. I feel a joy I haven't felt with anything else.


Let me balance the good by saying there is so much going on in my personal life that some days, I want to walk down the 210 going the opposite way of traffic. Perhaps, that is a bit dramatic but my little life is constantly brimming with crazy aunts coming over my apartment threatening to kick me out, racked up bills, crises of every sort from family, to police, perverts, peeping toms, incarceration, horrible bosses, co-workers I can't stand, and I now I am beginning to think I was some kind of merciless serial killer in my past life.


I am brave enough to say I don't know what the hell I'm doing, I don't know where I'm going. I have a plethora of great potential according to those around me and not one clear road in sight.  I seem to be finding my way in a world I never really did fit into. 


But then again, I think about my kids, what I want to do with my life despite the fact that the picture isn't there yet. I think about the moments I want to leave behind and the amazing impact those few special teachers had on me growing up and how I feel it is a call of duty to do the same for these kids. I'm coming to realize that life isn't about figuring things out, but about letting go and letting the answers reveal themselves. I cannot control the path’s direction and what happens if I take one road versus the other, but that I should just live anyway, trust in myself to make the right decisions and learn to let life run its course.


This is the lotus flower we must find in the murky water of our lives; the human spirit that thrives in each of us. There is no shame in having to start over or to reevaluate a new path because the map you had for yourself did not lead you to the destination you were seeking. The point is to accept who you are no matter how the world sees you and even though the world hasn’t validated you yet.


Sometimes, your decisions despite hard work temporarily leaves you on a road bump that challenges you to continue, to muster the strength to keep going. But that is the challenge. To be the good in the world when no one is a witness. To learn to love even when you have been hurt before and every pore in your body wants to hold you back from another hazardous experience. To take risks and to keep going no matter what. To be afraid, terrified of humiliation but to try again anyway. For me, that means dusting the dirt off past failures, putting on my four inch bad ass stilettos and fervently breaking through the surface to rise and dance again.

Can't Stop

                                    Do not go gentle into that good night.
                                                Rage, rage against the dying of the light.  - Dylan Thomas

I have a load of laundry on the floor that I should be tending to but I'm ignoring it. Like I'm ignoring the fact that I haven't trained in a month in a half. Ignoring my annoying Armenian neighbor who snores every night at 2 A.M. like clockwork-poor bastard probably has got a bad case of sleep apnea yet the fucker bangs on my wall every time my alarm goes off in the morning. I'm not throwing up my fists at the fact that the projects I have been spending all my time on have fallen at the seams, although I am wondering if this whole circus train is worth it. I'm not even throwing up my fists at the Enter key on my keyboard not working right now. Simply tempted to bury myself in bed and ask someone to wake me up when it's all over.

I'm on my second Kettle One cocktail at 10 am in the morning, playing the same song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers over and over again like some lunatic with the volume on full blast-my neighbors probably think this is the final straw. I'm absorbing. Absorbing my anger and frustration, like unwanted penetration, choosing not to bang my fists into every poor sucker that comes by because that's not what adults do. We don't drop tears, we don't ask questions about this world, never wonder or say that it may have no meaning at all.

And when did I send a message into the universe that I was accepting applications for old dudes with money to offer me a break in the form of opportunity, cars or money just because I am this poor little innocent girl that needs a little help in exchange for some pervy conversation and maybe a night cap if I happened to feel up for it. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of sweet talking people, tip toeing around their bigger than life egos, being careful not to intimidate them with my cunning sarcasm just because I am hoping they might give me a chance to have a voice. Just once, I would like my message on the pavement to be read,  to speak without interference, to live a life without reservation, to burn bright even if it's for a mere moment.

I'm hopping on all these damn trains leading to nowhere just to be part of the wave, be a part of the conversation, to have a life that is more than just ordinary.

My time involved with dance has been replaced by suitors, young men who whisper sweet bullshit in my ears filling me up with emptiness and frustration. Each one, better than the next, as they all persistently plead for my attention, all of them trying to fit me in their lives for their own agendas. Some of them scratching the itch of anger, escape, control, revenge, forgetting the past, distraction, masturbation, validation, frustration, confusion, copulation and none of them know they will not do. Because none of them have taken the time to see me. To get to really know the truth- instead having my image be merely a creation of their mind, and nothing more than just a mirage of their desires.

And still, I can't stop. Can't stop this crazy wave I'm on. I'm addicted, like a repulsive insect attracted to the light that will destroy me, I listen to Mr. Networks say, "you're gonna do good kid", and walk into the fire with my eyes hypnotized. Accepting the gifts that old men offer and playing Russian roulette with my safety, my peace of mind, trusting no one but still meandering into their worlds anyway.

I reserve my right to drink at 10 am and get drunk to John Frusciante's awesomeness. Because hope doesn't float my friends, it rises. I haven't seen the worst and I'm ready to barge through these damn doors guns blazing. Let these old men try and fantasize about a chance, let these network producers offer empty opportunities, let these married men with children make passes at me, sending me love notes and perverted messages, all trying to be this kid's best friend.

I'm riding this wave, for better or worse. I'm persevering, getting closer to the light, not ready to give up before I have expressed my truth. This life is more than meets the eye. I believe it. I believe this soul has yet to leave her trace on this world. I can't stop my desires, and whatever I do, I'm gonna go big. I'm putting the pistol to my lips, paying my dues, choosing to live a life without limitations, hanging on for that chance to ride high, not ready to die before I have stretched my limits. I'm choosing to go into danger, bleeding in this jungle of fury, leading me to some answers. I'm worth my weight, and I'm just waiting to see how this next chapter is gonna unfold.

In competition, we discover ourselves.

                                       

                                        
     
            In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always
             wins...not through strength, but through persistence.

      It's been a while since I've written anything on this blog. I suppose I was too hurt and defeated by life to continue to divulge my inner thoughts. Perhaps it was disappointment from failed partnerships, cowardice from the voices around me who doubted my abilities...this forum forces me to confront my emotions and I wasn't ready to face myself. Things have changed in one year's time- I have grown as a dancer, moved on from living in little studios and from the confining, intoxicating memories of my childhood home to the City of Glendale. A place that fills my lungs with the pollution of noise and nicotine from all the hairy faces of the Armenians who congregate every street corner, coffee shop, and newsstand of this town. I'm happy here despite the pressures of every breathing thing of Middle Eastern descent bringing up the M word...marriage.

      My sister Jacqueline got married a few weeks ago and despite our unwanted distance, I'm very overjoyed at this new chapter in her life. And while I want to pretend that her graduating to this next phase of her life doesn't affect me, it does. Not because I am envious of her happiness, but because it forces me to think about the life I am giving up at this time in the pursuit of my dreams. The unconventional path I've led instead of the traditional one has undeniable sacrifices.

      I suppose a dancer's life can be a lonely one. But even a tough kid like me wants someone to nurse her wounds after tearing the same muscle for the fiftieth time; someone to be there after practicing with bronchitis, sniffles and every other contagious cold under the sun; someone to really see me, hold my hand and tell me everything is going to be alright.

      But, I move through these emotions. I am water, changing form through every circumstance- and, I cannot express with enough gratitude the selfless support from friends and family who have lent me the hours of tedious emotional and physical assistance, walking by my side and making every step possible.

      And for now, as I face competitions in salsa and ballroom, endure grueling training, forcing my body and mind into submission, practicing my routines to perfection- I am the master of my fate. I hold the keys to my destiny. No wounds, past hurts, or excuses can keep me back. I will pass through the grinding bones and muscles to achieve the inches of flexibility and extensions that will bring me closer to the picture of my inner greatness. I am a survivor and I fear no one. No judge, partner or one situation can take this illuminated picture from me. I surprisingly hear the voice of encouragement from my mother telling me nothing can hold me back. I hear my father telling me not to give up, to learn from him, reminding me his blood runs through my veins. I am strength, I am powerful, I am a survivor and I will conquer. Everything in life comes down to choice. And at 26 years old, I am too young to bow to defeat before I have seen my rose bloom. I hold the power. I will not stay in the darkness of my sorrow. I will fight and despite any disappointments, my life will go on. I will not break before I have seen what my strength and will can accomplish. This isn't the end. Oh no, this is just the beginning, and I have barely begun.

"There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth. Not going all the way and not starting." Buddha

Dancing under the lights

"The fight is won or lost, far away from witnesses- behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road, long before I dance under those lights."
                                                                 -Muhammad Ali


       I am sitting in a brightly lit Coffee Bean, using the complimentary Wifi and blocking out the activity of the baristas and customers around me, blocking the aroma of coffee being ground and blended, blocking the shifting chairs scraping the floor, the drinks being slurped through purple straws, and mouths moving in inaudible flux. To be honest, I suppose I'm also blocking out the fact that I live out of bags and sleep on an orange couch (circa 1970) in a compact dance studio -blocking out the fact that my current dance partner has terminated our professional relationship because he was seeking a personal one.

      Now, in reality, the room I live in is the basement dance studio of a beautiful home in Whittier Hills. It's cute and cozy, but definitely not the Ritz Carlton. Bags strewn on the floors contain all my belongings and as I turn around this coffee shop and spot the sophisticated homeless man with his shopping cart parked outside, charging his Toshiba laptop, I can relate.

      Actually, recently I caught a break. I'm sure most can identify with this moment. When you throw your hands up in the air and thank the universe for gracing you with such good fortune. This could be in the form of a job, money, an offering, a partnership, training, an introduction, an apprenticeship, or sometimes clothed in the disguise of a calamity that brings you closer to your destiny. Whatever the method of delivery, the opportunity presents itself. However sometimes in the excitement, you don’t fully inspect the hand which grants you with such a gift and the giver becomes a representation of tribulation, aggression, oppression, distress, adversity, worry and vexation. And when the giver has ulterior intentions, the wave of gratitude and inspiration you felt is washed away by a feeling of helplessness; because in that moment, you feel a false desperation for that person. And you feel helpless because you’re balancing your self worth, how you should be treated, and pride against your future. You’re weighing out the price it takes to get to your dreams.

      This situation is becoming more and more familiar to a lot of us. Given the current economic crisis, employers and superiors in every field are taking advantage of their current state of limited power and have abused their authorities.

      So this causes me to ask the burning question: How much does one person have to give up in order to achieve their goals? Or more importantly-what does it take to achieve greatness? What defines greatness?

       Some of us have goals and dreams and some of us want to aspire to some form of greatness. But in the competition known as life, there can only be one winner, one great man, one great victor. And it’s hard to say exactly what it takes to be in the discussion for the best at what you do.

       I have adopted the notion that it is possible for flawed, broken beings full of limitless determination to struggle through the odds, and rise to greatness. That despite low incomes, closed doors, uncertain fates, abuse, slander and other negativity, there is an opportunity in every man’s life to take what’s been done to him and transform the ugliness into something beautiful. That in each of us, there is a chance to create the human being that was always meant to thrive, to create a life without inhibition, to nurture dreams with vigorous faith.

      I know I have a responsibility to see my vision to the finish line. To transcend past my circumstances and to realize I am defined only by what I believe... and I believe I am great. I was great before I strapped the laces of my dance shoes, I was great before I knew how to put speech to paper, great before I uttered these words or wrote this sentence. I stand unguarded to say nothing will stop me.  Come hell or high water, nothing can shake me. No events, no medals, no words own me or define me. I am transcendent. I have changed my life for the game and I will change the game, one step at a time. I will send ripples through dimensions and times of this sport.  No one moment, whisper, or event can hold me down.

      I'm getting in the ring, putting on the gloves, ready to fight. I'm putting time on the floor, in the gym, making the impossibilities, possibilities. I have won the battle far before I have danced under these lights. It's undeniable. It is my destiny.



“I am the greatest, I said that even before I knew I was.”
~ Muhammad Ali

Hollywood...If the Price is Right

  

   
    I have often wondered about price when it comes to not only being a citizen of the world, but of a particular city where everyone is skeptical when something seems too good or better yet, for free. Gilded offerings often come with invisible price tags hanging on the outside of them, hidden from the oblivious, naive jerk offs who have told themselves that there will not be any consequences for this transaction. 

    Take for instance, the ooooh so beautiful city of Hollywood where there is such a breed as what's called Hollywood kids. Now these are not actually children although they often act like them. These are grown adults who wear Armani sweaters and live in neighboring trendy cities in LA where they have been funded by mommy and daddy for ages. These H kids don't have jobs, but rather live on the coattails of their parents as they live out their dreams. In reality, they are community socialites living like “rock stars”, known by local clicks and able to walk into clubs with free bottle service and barely a flash of an ID. They are hipsters- trendy, fashionable, and walk amongst those who dwell in silicone valley and in the pockets of others, materialistic in their tastes and their choices of friends. They have created a parallel universe where what they have dreamed has been materialized on a delusional small scale, like mini mansions.

            These kids are one financial crisis away from being x-ed out of their social scene and will remain on the D-list for most of their careers. Now, there’s nothing wrong with living the lifestyle you choose, in the fashion you choose except, when the facade is damaging to the individual. These kids have been playing a role like an actor in a film, fabricating the person they have wanted to be. And, as the role has been rehearsed to perfection, over time the mask has become them. Suddenly, it is a mask no longer and the lines between who they are or strive to be and the mask itself, gets blurred. This is forgivable for a kid in their 20’s who is finding who they are but for a person in their 30’s and beyond, the chance to want more as an individual and the awareness of where you are going in life is blocked by this facade; because identity and self worth has become based on this disguise and now everything around the individual- sex, alcohol, superiority in any form, clothes, cars, jewelry are all a part of the person’s identity. 

    Take for example, the character I happened to run into at a local show in Santa Monica. Her skin was ebony, breasts up to her chin, black bob haircut wig, pinned down tight, voice resonating in high octaves, schooling me on Tres Locos and the local singer who had his fellow followers present him with the forbidden drink as he ate melted Reese's peanut butter cups from his fan's hands and compared the chocolatey goo in repulsive detail to acts of defecation. You could assume that this would have sent me running, but like a bystander of an amazing disaster I was stunned into auditory paralysis. She went on to tell me that she was upset because her authentic fur coat had been drenched by the numerous clumsy cups of brimmed alcohol and- did I know that all of  her friends had big voluptuous, natural, Double-D breasts, as she presented me her pair like a badge of honor, clunked her Christian Louboutin boots with their glorious red trademark soles on the chair next to ours for me to gawk at, and proceeded to point out how her bedazzled jewelry was real in comparison to mine which she could tell, were not. 

   I felt instantly bewildered like watching a pig that could talk but I could not put my finger on what was troubling me the most. I realized a week later, I wasn't uncomfortable because I felt that I did not belong, I was uncomfortable because I was naively oblivious to the fact, that it was apparent to everyone else, that I did not belong. These socialites could smell an alien in their midst, an outsider, a misfit.

    My needs for basic camaraderie had gone unfulfilled in an environment that was a safety net for these Hollywood kids to feel a sense of belonging. I experienced this feeling later on in the week with some of the dancers on DWTS at a local pub. Every person there knew I was not one of them, and that I hadn't paid my price of admission whether it was through social status or with monetary power in any form that would explain my reason for being there. And I will mention this as a brief side-note: women do get an admission card for sex appeal and looks but it ain't no lifetime membership. The currency of sex as an exchange for power, status, or money is a dangerous game for a woman to play, especially a rookie and has detrimental prospective costs in the aftermath. Anyhow, every person wanted admiration as desperate as the chump next to them, but each group expressed this in different ways, some behind the mask and some with a flash of something that gave them worth. Regardless of the method, these were all attempts to raise levels of self-esteem that were not there.

    In that moment, I evaluated what gave me self-esteem and what gave me worth. Worth for me, comes from competence and mastery of my tasks, my skills, and my dreams. I suppose I want admiration as well and I will not deny that it gives one a sense of power or a feeling of accomplishment or control when one does receive it. And sometimes, friend's attempts to help like Adam B are a relief and comfort but I could never truly embody my confidence as a human being through unmerited hand outs because there is a freedom in accomplishing through persistence and independence. Choosing to accept money, nice cars, easy lifestyles and end up paying the price of those concealed price tags is not an option. The price could be a life filled with apathetic friendships, soulless relationships, selling oneself and giving up on one's worth, and becoming so jaded one is blinded by his/her possibilities and potential.

     There is beauty in the struggle and the passionate desire to become more than what one is and to become everything that one is capable of being. The truth is that we are all “need junkies” with cravings that must be satisfied and should be satisfied. But, there are some things like paying the vital price of your ambitions that go far beyond the physiological and materialistic.

 There must be truth somewhere in the hearts of these Hollywood kids, but as for me I shall be an addition through subtraction. I shall judge my acceptance of myself not by the things I have... but for all the things which I am not.

Flowers through cracks of Concrete

Have the courage to be nobody but yourself, in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else, and that means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
                       E.E. Cummings

    Driving down Hollywood on a Saturday night gives one the sense that life is this magnificent inflation of one's ever so delusional ego; and on the same note, a cold awareness of the lonely lost souls of this city somehow undercuts that elated emotion, serving you a bitter hypnotic taste of fabulous LA. Los Angeles is the type of city that promises greatness, fame, and excitement from the dread of being common- of being a "nobody."


    Now, don't get me wrong. I love being a citizen of LA. But this acquired high is reserved for those up for the game- the Who's down for whatever game. Whatever taking on the form of dancing, drinking, making out with porn stars, up and coming band members, self-important managers, dancers, actors, musicians, making out with anyone for that matter, drugs, sex, taboo conversations, late night eats and any other irresponsible entertaining behavior you can come up with.


    For an individual not to falter, you need to be grounded, disciplined and most  importantly have a strong sense of self. This is a hard thing to hold down in an environment rewarding approval for those down to play.

    As I walked around the overcrowded club filled with hollow bodies who had all checked their souls at the door, impatient bartenders serving up overpriced drinks, and cheap dresses draped on young women just waiting to whet the appetite of these carnivorous men, I couldn't help but wonder...is LA nothing more than some cheap revision of a raunchy MTV music video, where most Angelenos and aliens to LA have lost their dreams and their souls for self-gratification- filling a void with their bodies and voices and then disappearing into darkness, or was there still hope in the freedom of doing the work we love, living the truth of our individual philosophies and following the journey towards our personal dreams?


    Before the eventful club scene, I attended a beautiful union between two young women declaring their love for one another in the glamorous city of Beverly Hills.  There was music, dancing, but most importantly we were surrounded by the warmth and energy of love, friendship and support. The reception was inspiring and genuine, a commodity in these parts. I knew, like all the guests of this joining, that we were in the presence of truth, of love, and of emotional vulnerability that comes from a place of sincerity. These two courageous women were declaring their truth and living their personal philosophies.


On the other hand, the club and the people in it were a dichotomy to the qualities mentioned above and as I drove home early the next morning, I thought about how these two events epitomize choice in a land where anything is possible.


Ultimately, it is choice that guides our decisions, guides our experiences, guides our beliefs, guides who we become. What we believe can ultimately shape what we decide to do or not do. It will shape the opportunities we attract or don't attract. It will determine whether or not we can recognize opportunities when they do come along and whether or not we are ready and know what to do with them when they arrive.


I know LA to be my home, a place that holds great promise and excitement for the possibilities that I believe are true for me; and these conclusions come from a place of great vulnerability and love- a love not just created by me, but from friendships and connections, like flowers growing in cracks of concrete, that have pushed me and shown me the light when I was lost in darkness. One of the brides of this lovely wedding, Christina L, took me into her home for a few painful months in my life and inspired me to make the choices that have allowed me to create beauty and live the life I have always wanted to live. To be the dancer and writer of my dreams and to be courageous enough to dream in a ridiculous and grandiose fashion.


For me, doing the work you love means living your philosophy. It means putting your values to work by determining to make what you do, reflect who you really are. Doing what you love is the ultimate freedom and it's always a choice.

The magic of the city of LA is undeniable if you are inspired enough to see it. There are moments where I seem to find myself in places that are dark, fun and irresponsible and those decisions make life complicatedly light-hearted, thrillingly empty, divinely sinful and an array of more oxymorons that tickle the senses . But on Sunday morning, when I take off my clothes from the night before, put on my worn CSUN t-shirt, my favorite cotton grey one with the holes in it, (no other will do), give a kiss to my 4 dogs and 1 cat, pick an orange from the tree in my backyard to make a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, hear the lulling noises of my families slumbered breathing as I walk down the halls of my home, I know where I have journeyed from, the elements that make me me. I take my breakfast to my room and meditate on the amazing events of my life, the gratitude I have for being allowed another day, and reflect on the dreams that have slowly started to make their way into fruition.

Hero

This past Veteran's Day weekend  I got to thinking about people in my life, past and  present, living and deceased, that have impacted me. Some have done a great deal of good, and some have done a great deal of damage, but all of them have done one major thing...effect change. Change- the ever uncomfortable yet inevitable part of life that determines whether you will assimilate to your surroundings or perish.

As our heroes embark on journeys through the battle grounds of Afghanistan, and others that journey into the next life, it is us, the common civilians that must journey into ourselves for a bigger purpose, something grander to dedicate our lives to, and perhaps even be the heroes of our own lives.
For me, this means to live my dreams and be true to myself in the face of all adversity. To live my best life and strive to be the best version of myself. This is a challenge to live out with daily obstacles that test my choices and patience.

I have used my hurts, past anger, and insecurities as fuel so far, but I feel a change in me- a need to heal, a need to let go, a need to surrender into the next phase of my life.

Although, there are some benefits to using your sadness and anger as fuel for creation, creativity and motivation  that has become used up in me now, a baser form of myself I no longer wish to be. I have discovered a new emotion slowly conjuring itself to the surface- the emotion of love.

Now don't get me wrong and slowly start moving your cursor towards the red x to the right of your screen. I didn't turn on you and become a blubbering Teletubby mindless sack of joy. This is not a Brady Bunch, Stepford wife, or religious cult call of duty to love all things with plastic smiles and comatose brainwaves. No, this is a gentler form of seeing connections and positivity with awareness and creating a love for yourself where there was none.

 I have chosen to find myself worthy enough to give myself everything that I desire. To create a space where I can love and nurture my dreams and become the astounding person that dwells within me...that is me. This is not a stroking of an ego, or Narcissus falling into his reflection but a realization and appreciation for this life that I am allowed to live in this moment, in this dimension, in this space and time- to make a difference, create a ripple in this world if for no one else but myself. This moment I am living has been created by my ancestors, by my heroes, by the strength and example they have left behind to be something more, or to simply just be.


I hear the ringing of Roman, our 5'9, dirty blond, curly haired Russian Latin coach wearing my favorite version of his shiny blue polyester pants, yelling at me, "Natili' you must look expensive, you are expensive, look expensive for your audience on  the dance floor."

While he meant this in quite a literal way, I will take this on the dance floor as I muster up the strength and confidence to step into my first major competition this week. I will know that this competition does not define me because I already know how far I have come, I already know my worth. I know, that just getting on that dance floor means I have taken the opportunity my heroes and my veterans sacrificed to make this all possible. I will walk down that floor, my expensive shoulders drawn back, my eyes ablaze, my ancestors shadows behind me, bravely choereograping myself as the hero of this story.