SLAM!

Friday, August 12th was easily one of the best nights of my life. It was the semi-finals for the National Slam Poetry contest and all of the events were within walking distance of my house. It was like a dream come true. 

Leading up to Friday, I had attended a workshop on workshopping, the youth slam contest and some open mic events. I also got denied access to one of the first bouts I attempted to go to after waiting in the rain for over an hour; apparently  lots of other people wanted to route on our local Lizard Lounge team. I learned my lesson: to get into the slam events - especially the popular ones - I was going to have to show up really early to get a spot. 

On Friday, August 12th, Jon met me over two hours early for a quick bite at a restaurant overlooking the semi-final venue. I wanted to keep an eye on the line so that I would not - no matter what - miss the show.  We found our place in line still a good hour and half early and, already, the line was pretty intense. The poets who were performing all week had priority; it looked iffy that we would make it in despite our clever planning. 

A little over an hour before the show, the host appeared and introduced himself to the crowd. He asked  the group: "Who is related to a poet? Who came to route on a specific team? Who has never been to a slam before and it just psyched to be here?" Jon and I raised our hands for the last one. I've seen slams on T.V. before, I've seen documentaries and youtube videos but this was going to be my first ever live slam ever and I was REALLY psyched. 

Slowly, the host started walking towards us. He started chatting with the people in front of us and then wiggled his way toward Jon and me. He asked us a little about ourselves and then he popped the most amazing question ever: "Will you be a judge tonight?" 

Oh my goodness. I leapt for joy. Not only would I get to definitely get a seat, but I'd get the best seat in the house AND...AND...I got to help determine national SLAM history. Whoever we chose as the winner would get to go the finals and have a chance of winning the 2011 contest. Wow! Wow! Wow!

The host asked four more teams to join us and then he walked us into the theatre as a group. We sat in the second row and were told the rules:

* After each performer, write a big number from one to ten on your white board. One is "Really?!! You wrote THAT???!" and ten is "Jesus just came down upon us!! Hallelujah." 

* Raise your board high and have it face the judges as soon as the performer is done. The MC will shout our your scores from lowest to highest.

* The audience will either route you on or booo you. It doesn't matter. Ignore the audience and do your thang. (The audience was also told later to ignore the judges and do your thang.)

At 8:00 pm, they finally opened the doors to the theater for the public and the house was packed. In fact, there were over 400 people who tried to get in and were denied because of space. And we were sitting in the second row. As judges. Unreal.

Four teams competed in four rounds. Each team sent up a single poet or a group piece and it was the rowdiest, most supportive ruckus event I've ever been to. There were gasps at the deep stuff, snaps when we got shivers, hollers when the poet got really intensely into it with sweat and tears. Man, the room was ALIVE. Each time a new poet came up, I felt like I went on a gigantic emotional journey with them. I felt exhausted and energized. It was so powerful watching these tattooed muscle men get up on stage and  pour their hearts out to the world. It was so inspiring to hear young gay men rant about Ken Dolls and G.I. Joe's.

As Jon and I walked home, the summer air was perfect. I was bouncing up and down and smiling from ear to ear. Holy moly, holy moly. What an incredible night! How did I get so lucky?

For more information on the SLAM, check out: National Slam Poetry Event 2011

Summer Crafts

As the summer comes to an end, it's fun to look at all of the crafty projects I took on between June and now. I had fun exploring different medium and adding some homemade goodness into our home. I think my next project will be a series of baby gifts. I have a lot of friends who have additions to their families arriving in the next couple of months. I'm excited to make their little ones "welcome to the world" gifts.

From top to bottom, here's what I made: a watercolor of our view from the cottage we rented in Maine, a bowl for Jon with our wedding invitation print on it, a felt owl, a paper daisy chain, meditation mala beads,  and a duvet cover. 

Tanglewood

As a finale to our week long adventure in the Berkshires, Jon and I decided to be culturally sophisticated and go to Tanglewood. We were easily the youngest couple there by a good thirty years. I tried really hard to be a worldly woman as I listened to the classical music, but all I could think about was Italian mobster movies. I blame it on the weather. 

Just as the first note was echoing through the beautiful concert hall, a brewing thunderstorm erupted.  There was this fascinating combination of delicate string sweetness and harsh bellowing booms. I was immediately transported in my mind to the movies. I imaged the perfect scene for that very moment. It would be in an Ocean's Eleven sort of high level modern crime in which two Mini Coopers are driving down an ancient stone staircases within in a pedestrian village somewhere in Italy. Automatic weapons would be sticking out of the car windows and few dramatic slow motion shots might even fire as the purity of the violins mixes with the evil bursts of thunderous doom. 

In my mind, it was one incredibly suspenseful and artistic scene. I am sure the directors would have used all sorts of black and white imagery to add to the good and evil battle.  I have no doubt the characters would have been developed perfectly so that the complexities made the audience unsure of who to root for in the final chase. 

When the concert was over, I was so excited to share my mental movie with Jon that I forgot all about trying to be a grown-up.  Although I am not the most proper or refined, I still think there's something magical about attending Tanglewood in a summer thunderstorm. 

Photo from: http://www.eticketspace.com

A "Gift"

It's hard to sum up an experience as intense and personal as my yoga teacher training course. It was three straight weeks of health and wellness boot camp: hours of daily yoga practice, meditation, chanting, Sanskrit, culture, nutrition and more. I transformed myself physically and emotionally and met incredibly brave, heart-warming people who I now call my dear friends. I know that I have barely begun to scratch the surface of processing all that I went through, but I keep returning to something that we talked about on our very first day.  It's the idea that each of us has a "gift." 

When we first met each other, our lead instructor, David, asked us to introduce ourselves and to be honest as we shared. "What gifts do you have?" he asked.  As we went around the sticky studio, each person spoke about the hardships, the life experiences that involved struggle, pain, hurt and fear. We all had them. Whether it was an eating disorder, a parent divorce, or anxiety, each and every one of us had something in our core that has been part of a destructive pattern. 

At first, it seemed truly sad to me that these beautiful people have had to experience so much negativity in their lives - myself in included. But now, looking back on it, I really understand that it takes unbelievable self power to figure out how to master your own history and turn it around. It is a magnificent thing to figure out how to pull yourself up, get out of your own way, and live the life you really want to life. 

I now understand the idea of a "gift" so much more. It's that positive outcome that arises after working so hard to tackle your own monsters. Coming out, into the light, after having been in a dark tunnel, means that you know the way into the sunshine and that you can help others look for their exit points too.  A hurdle becomes a "gift" when you take back control and put it in its place, off in corner of your life - somewhere far enough for freedom but close enough to act as a reminder of how much maintenance it takes to stay happy and healthy in the present.

My three week yoga training was what I needed to turn my hurtful history into a "gift."  I now feel proud, realizing how much compassion I have to offer others. It is a sincerity that cannot be taught, but only gained through a personal journey. I feel stronger than I have ever felt, knowing that I have a beautiful, organic gift to share with the world. It's no longer scary. My gift is so so pretty and I imagine it's handmade, crafty and has birds stamped on it somewhere. What a stunning, joyful "gift" it is.

Photo from: http://simplyhealthyfam.blogspot.com/