Qajaq Dancer

To organize my thoughts. To manage my time. To consider how I might be perceived. To be disciplined in my practice. But it also takes more time than I can afford, especially this week. On the point of writing, many years ago, I decided to create and write a short story as a gift for a friend. I had given myself a deadline to pass on the finished product as a Christmas gift, which meant I had about three months. I dedicated a minimum of an hour every day to writing, and once the writing was done, I moved on to editing, and then I moved on to illustrating, and then I moved on to crafting a one-of-a-kind-gift bound into a single book. In the end, the process ended up taking me almost eighteen months, the final product was gifted as a birthday present two years later than I had intended. I'm not sure what purpose this serves... but it has always caught my eye, and one day I found myself standing next to it. For the past two days I have been completing the final reports for m

Photo by Purnendra Meshram Paul Taylor once said that he planned to live forever, and that sentiment has been publicly interpreted on social media this past week to be a truth found in his dances by those who perform them and those who witness them. As of August 29 th , 2018, those of us who consider ourselves members of the “Taylor Family” became the orphans of Paul Taylor’s mortal beneficence. Now we carry the label of the generation that were “chosen” by Paul. From thence forward, there can be no more dancers, teachers, administrators that will join the Paul Taylor namesake organization who will have his judgement be the deciding factor in their initiation. Top photo from James J Novak on Facebook. Bottom photo from my archive. Emotionally, this was a surprisingly hard week for me. I was literally in the air flying to India when Paul Taylor died. And when so many of the Taylor Family and devotees were gathered in Lincoln Center on Monday in New York City to participate i

So a lot has been going on in this past week for me. I am sitting at the domestic terminal of Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport (I still have to look up how to spell the first two words). In about an hour, I am guessing that it will make sense for me to stand in the crowds approaching my departure gate for my flight to Goa from Mumbai. Earlier today, I had decided to go to the airport with plenty of time before my flight, as I did not know what congestion I might encounter, whether by traffic, security and identity checks, bag checks, and my general lack of knowledge about this particular terminal. Each time I have flown out of Mumbai, I have left from Terminal 2, the international terminal, though I did arrive back from Delhi to this terminal. If this is not yet confusing, then read on. It might make sense to know I don't like large crowds. I planned on using any extra time I had at the airport to try and finish my blog entry for this week, and so once I reache