Dances of Life

This past weekend I attended BOCA Fest, the annual Memorial Day bellydance expo put on by Dr. Sunyatta Amen and the Bellydancers of Color Association. Teachers and dancers from all over the country and the world come in for it, and the weekend is amazing and so very healing.

I took classes in prop use (danced with a sword on my hand - VERY cool), zils (the fab little finger symbols), gypsy choreography (who doesn't want to fling a skirt around like Carmen?), isolations, and shimmies. I ended up taking three classes from Kaeshi Chai, an amazing dancer who embodied a wonderfully peaceful and sacred presence. You can learn more about her here.

Once again, third gendered experience came to the foreground for me. I was one of two bio-boys taking classes (the other being my fabulous sister Dane Figueroa Edidi), and while it was clear to many of the women there that we were "men" taking these classes, my perception was, of course, different.

I don't subscribe to a rigid gender expression, and in line with beliefs dating back to antiquity in cultures around the world, I see myself as both man and woman. The biological evidence of my body is only one part of my gender experience. While some people see this as simply "Oh, yes, we all have man and woman in us," it goes beyond that in profound and sometimes inexplicable ways.

I would love to see more queer people learning sacred dance forms that allow us to fully unveil and stand in our power - Bellydance, Tarantella, Orisha Dances, Hula, Dances of the First Nations. I think that our dancing of these holy steps will truly help heal the world.

For people in the area interested in taking classes, head over to Mamasita, the studio where I've taken classes for two years. It's an amazing, sacred, and deeply joyful place to be!

'Tis the Season

Oh, yes, baby. Pound it! More oil! More nuts! Put it all together! Pound it harder!!! Yes! Yes! YES!

That's right, dear readers. It's pesto time.



I'm a freak about a good pesto, and after reading Sophia Loren's cookbook years ago, I realized the only way to make the perfect pesto is with a mortar and pestle. Luckily, we got a gorgeous one for our wedding three years ago, and it works beautifully, giving the pesto a body that clings nicely to pasta and createss a divine texture in the mouth.

Plus, there's something delightfully sensual/sexual about that mortar and pestle, and sometimes, I add a little energetic bump to the process. Who can't use a little more healthy sexual delight, right?

Since the basil is still growing away on the balcony, yesterday's concoction was a mint variety - mint, pine nuts, a little bit of garlic, lemon juice, and some grated romano. I plan to use it as a sandwich spread for lunch today.



Lunch yesterday was a creative-license Nicoise salad. I had Boston Lettuce from the CSA, so I blanched asparagus and peas in the pod. Potatoes were cooked up and put in the center, surrounded by the blanched veggies, oil-cured black olives and salt-packed capers. It was topped with pole-caught tuna (the most sustainable variety according to Seafood Watch), a hard-boiled egg, and a garlic dijon vinaigrette.

On a side note, the great yogi Pattabhi Jois died earlier this week. He's the founder of the Ashtanga school of asana practice, which is one of the roots of all modern yoga practices. Do a few sun salutations in honor of him this week, and may his next journey be one of peace and love. Jai, Jai, Guruji!

The Very Good Italian Day

So, it's been a long time since I've written, because the last few months have been full of wonderful blossomings and delights - mostly through a really sweet reception from people and the Multiverse about my being a yoga teacher. I continue to be profoundly grateful for the resonances and gifts present in my life around all of this. (Big shout-out to Kali, Elavin, and the other Mysterious Ones and Ancestors supporting this!!!)

Now that things have settled a bit, I plan to be back here regularly. And, of course, what better way to start than with food and Italianate delights!



I went to Baltimore's Little Italy today to visit some purveyors of Italian goods and to descend upon Vaccaro's, the best Italian bakery I've ever encountered. Consequently, today's lunch was composed of cookies - amaretti (divine), almond cookies (equally lovely), and the confectioner's famed pignoli cookies (downright orgasmic - less messy than dick and equally satisfying!). I topped all that off with a San Pellegrino Aranciata (that's Guido for "orange soda," but happily it's devoid of corn syrup and other weird shit).

Next, I visited Isabella's, where the cheeses and meats are to die-for, and apparently, the men are even more exquisite. What could be better than asking for a pound of Italian sausage and having it served up by a really cute Italian guy in tight jeans and a tank top? I got some Fontina cheese, plus a cheese I've never had before - Prima Donna (no snickering, please). I'm anxious to try it.


Tonight, I made a dish from one of my favorite magazines, La Cucina Italiana. I used the grain farro, which has graced Italian kitchens since the Bronze Age. It's wonderfully textured and has a heartiness to it that provided a great base for seared scallops and asparagus atop a saffron cream sauce. While saffron might surprise people unfamiliar with Italian history, remember that Southern Italy and its islands of Sicily and Sardinia were crossroads (through benevolence or force) of many, many cultures.

Dinner was downright amazing and served with a blessedly light, but not wimpy, 1995 French Chardonnay given to me by a friend.


Dessert? Ah, well, there's no photo yet, because I have yet to assemble it, but there are strawberries lightly heated with sugar and balsamic vinegar (a favorite Italian treat) spooned over homemade lemon pastry cream, all nestled into a tart crust.

The strawberries and asparagus come from the CSA that I joined, which started last Saturday. It's so exciting and a wonderful way to stay deeply connected with the rhythms of the world around us.

May everyone's upcoming week be one of integration, where the maya of sacred vs. profane is dissolved and every act - from cooking dinner to practicing yoga to casting spells to walking to the subway - is one of divine love.

Poetic Break

Things have been very full over the last 10 days. I'm finishing my yoga teacher training program this Sunday, and I also open a stage production of Dante's Inferno with Synetic Theater in one week. I play the amazing queer poet Virgil, who leads Dante through the bowels of hell. Cheery, right?

Here's a wonderful poem I came across in the New Yorker by Robert Pinksy. Incidentally, his translation of the Inferno has long been my favorite.

I'll write more soon!

Last Robot Song

It was a little newborn god
That made the first instrument:
Sweet vibration of
Mind, mind, mind
Enclosed in its orbit.

He scooped out a turtle's shell
And strung it with a rabbit's guts.
O what a stroke to invent
Music from an empty case
Strung with bloody filaments-

The wiry rabbitflesh
Plucked or strummed,
Pulled taut across the gutted
Resonant hull of the turtle:
Music from strings that
Tremble over a hollow-
Sweet conception, sweet
Instrument of

Mind, mind, mind:
Itself a capable vibration
Thrumming from here to there
In the cloven brainflesh
Contained in its helmet of bone-
Like an electronic boxful
Of channels and filaments
Bundled inside its case,
A little musical robot

Dreamed up by the mind
Embedded in the brain
With its blood-warm channels
And its humming network
Of neurons, engendering

The newborn baby god-
As clever and violent
As his own instrument
Of sweet, all-consuming
Imagination, held
By its own vibration,

Mind, mind, mind pulled
Taut in its bony shell,
Dreaming up Heaven and Hell.

Ecstasy for Obama

Last night, I attended Chant 4 Change, a large event where internationally known Kirtan artists came together at D.C.'s Church of the Holy City, and we sang, danced like devotees of love, and added lots of good juju to the power of this incredible day. I'm still flying high from the five-hour experience that capped a day of yoga workshops about change with the wonderful Shiva Rea.

The energy of the city is remarkable. I've never seen the town so full of hope, laughter, tears of joy, and kindness as I have over the last few days. Locals are going out of their way to be helpful to out-of-towners; visitors have added a sweetness and poignancy to our communities; conversations on buses, Metros, and grocery stores are of a celebratory and hopeful nature.

Hope has returned to this country.

We all know Obama is just a human and humans make choices, some right, some wrong, but today, America has made great strides for itself to right the wrongs of division. Most amazing!

Have a wonderful inauguration day everyone!

(The image above is the one used as the Chant4Change logo.)

Those Everyday Moments

In reading Stephen Cope's "The Wisdom of Yoga," I came across an incredible quote of Franz Kafka's:

You don't need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Don't even listen, simply wait. Don't even wait. Be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you. It has no choice. It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

In a culture where being "connected" all the time to people through Internet, iPhones, texting, blue tooth-technology, etc., sometimes it can be hard to unhook and rediscover the deep joy found in each moment.

Here's a short list of some of my favorite of those moments:

Watching birds eat seed on my balcony as the sun streams in.
A cup of chai.
Kissing trees.
Walking along Seneca Creek, emptying my mind as I go.
Looking out the window while riding the bus.

What are some of yours?

(The photo above was taken by John Fischer and is of sunrise over Haleakala, the dormant volcano on Maui. I was browsing google images and was struck by this picture - then I realized, with a smile, that it's from Hawaii. Good news on the photo front for this blog - I finally got my own digital camera from my parents for my birthday, so very soon, I'll be able to put up my own pictures here. Yay!)

Can I get a side of Santosha with that?

Partly because of a post over at So This Is Wonderland and partly because of an e-mail sent from the main yoga studio where I practice, this morning I'm really thinking about the ideas of wealth and abundance.

I listen to NPR every morning (perhaps foolishly), and as usual, there were the usual reports today:

"President-elect Barack Obama met with Congressional leaders to urge them to pass his economic stimulus plan which could run into the trillion-dollar mark."

"Job losses have reached a record high as people try to cope with a struggling economy."

"Investors on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange have taken to rocking in corners and sucking their thumbs."

"Financial analysts say we're all fucked and should begin foraging for acorns."

Ad nauseum (literally).

So, honestly what the hell are we supposed to do? I can't say I'm not freaked, because I left a corporate job at the end of July to puruse my passion for yoga and sacred movement, hoping to parlay that into something financial sustainable.

Right now, I'm working part-time at a great store called Lululemon; I'm still writing freelance articles for the Washington Blade; and I'll be performing a stage-adaptation of Dante's Divine Comedy with the Synetic Theater Company - all for some cash-ola.

Yet, despite downsizing an apartment, cutting some bills, dropping the cell phone entirely (which I'm notorious for losing, breaking, throwing in fits of pique, etc.), I still get into the, "Oh-my-God, I'm fucking broke. What about the future? What about savings? I don't want to eat cat food!"

Okay, first of all, let's remember the power of ujayi breath - one of the sacred yogic breaths that sounds like the ocean.



Right. Brain waves slowing down - good.

Secondly, as I sit here typing while baking some dried figs stuffed with walnuts in wine and honey, I realize that things are good.

I stare out the window as the sun pours through the blinds and watch the bluejays, tufted tit mice, and finches fly onto the porch and eat the birdseed I put out for them yesterday.

And all of this reminds me of Santosha - the yogic principle of contentment. Appearing in the yogic sage Patanjali's famed Yoga Sutra as one of the "niyamas" (which are suggestions as to how we treat ourselves - the "yamas" being how we interact with the world around us), santosha is about being content with where we are right now, this instant.

This means even in the face of difficulty and challenge (traffic, financial hardship, relationship woes, disease, etc.), we learn to pause, breathe, and sink in, recognizing that we are here.

And while "wealth" is great and all, like anything else it ebbs and flows. So, too, does santosha (at least for me). But unlike monetary accumulation, I don't have to put in eight hours, sell my soul, become a corporate automaton to get some santosha in my life.

Inhale. Exhale.

Voila. Santosha.

May all of you find a little santosha today and every day.


(The first image is of the lovely and wonderful Potomac River. These are the waterfalls of the Potomac, one of the fastest moving rivers in the country, and these falls are very close to the Washington area. The second image is of a bluejay, who love unshelled peanuts. It's a stock image from Flickr. The final image can be found here.)