Listing: OSA 114-147

OSA 114 THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 12AM & 8:15PM, “Can A Sista Rock a Mic?” concert, and outside CVS on Columbia Road, in the rain on my way to WPFW Radio interview
OSA 115 FRIDAY, AUGUST 10, outside elevators in front of TransAfrica Forum lobby, 6:00pm, and inside showing of their African Film Festival
OSA 116 SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, Bronx-bound 3 train, NYC metro transit, 10:45pm
OSA 117 SUNDAY, AUGUST 12, at Central Park’s Summerstage Angelique Kidjo and Zap Mama concert in New York City, 3pm
OSA 118 MONDAY, AUGUST 13, dance workshop at St. Stephen Church, noon
OSA 119 TUESDAY, AUGSUT 14, in front of Plymouth Congregational Church, 13th Street, NW at sunset
OSA 120 WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15, dance workshop at St. Stephen, noon
OSA 121 THURSDAY, AUGUST 16, sunset time inside drained pond across from the Willard Hotel, near White House
OSA 122 FRIDAY, AUGUST 17, under the American flag, outside Harriet Tubman Elementary, making songs with zfree and observing violent communication between parents and infants, dancing to the tunes of liberated thinking and prayers for more love, 11pm
OSA 123 SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, corner of 14th and U streets waiting for 54 bus home, dancing to the rhythms of DC’s summer nightlife, 11pm
OSA 124 SUNDAY, AUGUST 19, aboard the Spirit of Washington with my family for my Aunt Sandra’s 50th birthday celebration, noon, and in front of my house on Lamont Street, sunset
OSA 125 MONDAY, AUGUST 20, dance workshop at St. Stephen Church, noon
OSA 126 TUESDAY, AUGUST 21, interview with a vampire (who claims he’s from Transylvania which he insists is in East Africa...) in Adams Morgan at corner of Columbia Road and 18th streets. vampire inquires as to whether I am homeless and tells me he can smell my mortal blood. also had an impromptu photo shoot with Chen Photography, 7:30pm
OSA 127 WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 22, dance workshop @ St. Stephen Church, noon, promoting “A Weigh With Words” documentary film release on 7th Street @ Gallery Place, 6:30pm and inside Gallery Place after hours eatery celebrating film debut, 11pm
OSA 128 THURSDAY, AUGUST 23, prosperity dance on Connecticut Avenue, a few block south of Chevy Chase Circle at L1 bus stop, vibing on themes of limitlessness, infinity, and joy, draped in all green @ 9pm
OSA 129 FRIDAY, AUGUST 24, waiting for ride at Greenbelt Metro, 5:30pm
OSA 130 SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, awaiting the P6 bus at Rhode Island Avenue Metro under imminent thunderstorm, 6:00pm
OSA 131 SUNDAY, AUGUST 26, in park near Eastern Market, sharing movement games with my sister Angelique, 4:30pm


OSA 132 MONDAY, AUGUST 27, in trails of Rock Creek Park with the drum lady @ 11am, and Bar Nun upstairs, before the Luv Lounge @ 8pm
OSA 133 TUESDAY, AUGUST 28, Mt. Pleasant and 19th Streets, sunset, dancing to themes of love, freedom, and beauty
OSA 134 WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 29, outside my house on Lamont Street at sunset and Janika and Toby’s bon voyage to Germany party, 9:30pm
OSA 135 THURSDAY, AUGUST 30, outside house on Lamont Street, looking at the very big yellowy moon, sending all my prayers and questions up into the universe, 10:30pm


OSA 136 FRIDAY, AUGUST 31, thankful in the fresh air of the night, somewhere between Connecticut Avenue and Adams Morgan, @ 10pm
OSA 137 SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, moving day from Columbia Heights, subtle dances found in between the gaps of packing, sorting, clearing space all day
OSA 138, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, outside Afua-Fana’s bridal shower, 7pm on Longfellow Street NE and outside friends house @ Lamont and Warder Streets, NW, 9:30pm
OSA 139, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, B30 bus stop at BWI Airport, 8:48am and at Great Fall, Virginia sunset in the rocks with Ma, Aaron and Eleniye
OSA 140, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, MY 25th BIRTHDAY!!! dancing the year’s intentions and prayers inside the Azalea Garden at the National Arboretum, 12:21pm and in between leaps at trapeze flying school, Baltimore Harbor, Maryland, 6:30pm
OSA 141, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, waiting for 90 bus to Adams Morgan at Eckington Place and Florida Ave, 7pm, and at Bar Nun’s Salsa Party, 11pm
OSA 142, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, roof of the Dorchester, 16th Street, at sunset
OSA 143, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, (shadowing super-mom in Laurel, Maryland, all day), communing with the nature of suburbia as I watch 4-year old Joshua outside in front yard

OSA 144, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, outdoor art installation near Metro Center, between H and I and 9th and 11th streets, 11:30pm, sharing movement games with a kind tree climber
OSA 145, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, outside the Goddess Palace before the New Moon gathering, Todd Place, NE, 6:06pm
OSA 146, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Grand Foyer, 5:11pm at Brazilian musicians’ Millenium Stage & Metro DC Dance Awards reception at the 600 Watergate Restaurant, 10:35pm
OSA 147, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, African American Civil War Memorial, 2:21pm, dancing in the blessings of the rain, singing "one drop don't make a rain, it take many drop to make a rain"

Video & Photos: Video, OSA 108, August 3 @ Kennedy Center for Performing Arts; Photos: in red t-shirt, coming up for air at St. Stephen Church OSA studio, OSA 109, August 5; OSA 131 at park, August 25; last photo--rare image of a Seated Binah...haha! on OSA 106

Sacred Space is Open Space

Photo: OSA 131, Sunday, August 25, 2007, park near Eastern Market @ 4:30pm


The dance belongs to all of us
It always has
It always will

Reflection:
OSA 146
Monday, September 10, 2007, 5:11pm
Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Millennium Stage, Washington, DC

I am loving every phase of my journey. Today finds me dancing again at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Something drew me here, even though I had made plans to dance somewhere else. Synchronistically enough I wind up celebrating Brazilian Independence Day with musicians Richard Miller and Patrick de Santos and their ensemble at the Kennedy Center’s daily free shows for the public. (I am on my way to Brazil to dance in November 2008.) I am dancing in the biggest stretch of open space in the Grand Foyer. My body negotiates the intrusion of new instruments into my organic dancing. Their music and passion is so invigorating. Despite a spitting headache, I dance harder, drink more water, will the dance to heal my pains. A woman asks me if I am doing the samba, and I smile, opening my arms wide as I dance my truth—“I am always doing all dances,” I say. She nods in approval. “I like it...whatever it is you’re doing,” she says.


Photo: OSA 111, Monday, August 6, 2007, on the "turf" in Downtown Silver Spring, Maryland @ 7:30pm


The traffic in the Grand Foyer picks up as the Brazilian music keeps going. Some people stop to stare, some to take a picture, some to tell me I'm beautiful. After a sequence of many turns and sharp arms slicing the air, I pause for a long arm stretch, opening my chest to the heavens (via the ceiling). A thought of immense gratitude comes to me: I am dancing my soul's truth. If life were to stop now, I'd be living my highest existence. I thought how blessed we artists are to live and breathe our life's love every day. This heightened awareness made me want to dance even more, to encourage more people not to waste a second more sleep-walking through life. In the moment I felt the infinite extension of my dance reaching into the souls of those thirsty for more than what they think their life is. I internalized the sacredness of the space I was activating as a slow, prayerful dance to hidden rhythms inside the music of the Brazilians. With deep bends and elongated reaches, sculpted spines arching into the unknown, each motion of mine giving permission for all of us to move together.

Raul from Mexico comes to join me for a few minutes. We slip and slide to alternate sides. We pretend we are competing at the ballroom dance competitions in moments of intense eye contact and dramatic posing. I love when people passing by come to dance with me. Several people ask me why I’m not on stage dancing in front of the non-dancing audience. I remind them that I’d much rather be communing freely away from the cage of the stage. That if I wasn’t in the open space, the dance would be limited to a tap of the foot or the shy rocking of a head. But out here in the infinite playground of the open spaces’ moment, the dance is unbound. People come and dance with me as they please. The ego takes a backseat to the flood and exhilaration of the now, of being outside of the normal spaces for dance.


Photo: OSA 127, Wednesday, August 22, 2007, jubilee jumping with my high school students at St. Stephen Church, @ 1pm

"Is that there dance you doing?" and other things I hear while dancing in public space

OSA 63, Tuesday, June 19: Experimenting with some sunset leaps at my favorite movement playground, Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Washington, DC


What type of dance is that?

Is that supposed to be some sort of exercise or something?

Are you doing Tai Chi?

I know you not on crack! See other people might think you on drugs or something, but I know you doing that dance...that moder-ryn dance!


OSA 88, Saturday, July 14: Moving my hips in tune with the Atlantic Ocean, Ft. Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Sunrise

Are you homeless?

Can you do that in my house?

I used to dance like that!

Why you don't put a cup out here and collect some money!

Can I take your picture?

Is that balle-ray or something?


Pre-OSA, April 14, 2007, doing Cosmic Booty Roll with sisters at a house party

How old are you?

Do you just do this everyday?

How do you make money?

What your boyfriend say about all this dancing?

Can I get some of your water?

Where are you from?


OSA 31, Friday, May 18: Dancing "Funky African" at the Potter's House artists sharing, drummers, Takada and Colivia

Is that African dance?

You African? (a question, not an affirmation)

Was you the one dancing down at the Malcolm X Park...yeah I seen't y'all...Y'all sure can dance!

You go to that dancing school up there?

Can you teach me to do that?

How long you gonna be dancing out here?

I see you girl...you working it...y'all see her working it!


Pre-OSA, Feburary 11, 2007, Activating stiff space while dancing beside a seated crowd as Elegua, an all-female Afro-Venezuelan ensemble, sings

Go on! Don't never give up...DO IT! DO IT!!!

Look, honey...she's dancing?

So can I dance with you?

sanctuary for sale

I am dancing in the heart of turbulence
the movement sways me
into boundaries
of profanity
vulgarity
defeat


I bang my soul up against the harsh words
we speak to one another
my spine shrinks
as I dip into a safer space
a retreat
to a time when men did not call me bitches

closing my eyes, I imagine
my enthusiasm for life
conjures more
than the anticipation of a blow job

wishing I could jump a little higher
up into the protection
of indigenous grandmas and griots
circles of trust
communities of accountability



longing for the time when
rocking hips conjured celebrations of life
of sacredness

I bend low to the earth
via the concrete
I visualize the green that used to be here
under my jumping toes
giving thanks for the life
of the dance
for continuity despite obstructions of sanctuary




A man one day had one eye. Puss gathered in and around it. His smile was crooked and gave way to broken, yellow teeth. He asked me to dance in his living room. He said for $75 that I couldn’t beat that. I wondered at his absurdity. I wondered at why I still danced there. I had drawn a circle on the ground with water from my Deer Park bottle. I danced inside the circle, and he never entered it. He stood from afar hurling perverted comments at me. I kept dancing. I asked him if his own daughter, who he said was a singer, (and who was apparently older than me), performed naked for $75. He ignored the question. I kept dancing.

This encounter disturbed me, angered me for a long time. Why did he have to taint my sacred dance ritual with his trifling jabber? Why didn’t he recognize my goddess-powered, divine, from-the-heavens dance praise worship! How dare he disrespect me. WOULD HE TALK TO HIS MAMA LIKE THAT!?!? I went on like this for days. Angry at anyone who even looked like they would say something nasty while I danced. It took so much energy to always be on guard with my movement.


I gradually came to a space of acceptance of his role in the evolution of my movement. We are all reflections of each other. Whatever I see in him, whatever is ugly and shameful in him, I must first recognize within. This is the painful, extremely essential boundary I had to breakthrough to release the anger and rededicate my dance to its higher purpose. I am not dancing to be “better” than anyone; I am not dancing to pass judgment on others. I began to ask deeper questions, (and still as I write this, I am asking), what in me attracts people who carry that energy? What fears or judgments have I preconditioned in my brain and serve as magnets for that which I despise, which I detest?

I thought of all the drunk and high people who are always the first to speak or “dance” with me on the streets. Their sentiments (not always vulgar or perverse) connect on some very basic level to the source of my movement. They are not afraid of me. They embrace the dance more willingly than most sober people passing by. They celebrate me in a humorous, strung-out sort of way. There is something very real and beautiful, very indigenous to our exchange in those brief interludes. Those times when they are more than just mumbling drunks and I more than just a dancer on the corner. These moments are our sacred portals of transformations, the delicate threshold when we hold the power to share our truth with someone else. How many of us take advantage of the opportunity to really share?



Before I could honor such a sacred bond, ephemeral as it might be, I had to first see myself in every one of them, even in the heart of the man pleading with me to dance in his living room. I had to make peace with the truth that many will come to share in the divine gifts of my dance; just as the tree does not discriminate with its shade, so too is my dance a universal gift of love. A token of appreciation for the good, the ugly, the beautiful, the disgraceful—and every other manifestation of myself I may or may not want to accept.


Photos from preview of Sunday Buffet, a play by Zaccai Free and Binahkaye Joy; here I am performing the character of Breezy Eve, the church crackhead, as she morphs into a dancing priestess.

Booty Breaks Boundaries!

OSA 117
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Central Park @ Summerstage in New York, New York, Angelique Kidjo and Zap Mama concert, 3PM

I yell into the crowd, first with my booty shaking vigorously to drum beats, then with cosmic spins spilling into the crevices nestled within the crowd’s shadows. Some shadows have a low-frequency buzz to them, generated from a subtle knee-rock, or a quiet hip-sway. But most shadows are static illusions of barriers that I trample over with my praise dance. Why are there even forms motionless enough to distinguish in such a vibrant dancing space? I do not comprehend this backwards scene—how anyone communing with the celestial voice of Angelique Kidjo and the mystical rhythms of her band could be standing still is beyond me. I wonder at the collective consequence of our negligence for refusing to be the caretakers of the divine dance in this divinely opportune moment? What becomes of a people so stiff in our movement, so reserved when it’s time to release our bodies the music’s flow? Must we be so out of tune with the planet and ourselves that we perpetuate our confinement with bleachers, gates, and police tape to mark where we can or cannot dance?

Finally, I dig deep into my throat and surprise even myself: “Shake the booty ladies! Shake those fibroids off!” It’s one of those moments when I wonder, “did I really say that out loud?” And, yes, I did! I am so excited for myself, speaking up. I realize I am surrounded by so many women in the crowd, most of whom have no awareness that dancing can help them naturally cure and eradicate fibroids and a host of other dis-eases taking over their bodies. A surge of energy shoots up my body from the ground and my movement grows even more ecstatic with praise. I am so happy that I am aware of my power to heal myself through movement. And even though I already know this, my truths are reaffirmed when I share them in communal spaces.


Some women look at me and giggle. They acknowledge the truth of what I’m saying. If they don’t have fibroids, or breast cancer, or high blood pressure—they know someone, or actually a whole lot of women, who do. And I know they’re going to go home and repeat and imitate what I am doing. I feel good sparking waves of healing with a booty roll. “That’s right, mamas! Shake the booty. FREE THE BOOTY! LET THE BOOTY BE FREE! LET IT GO!” I am laughing with myself now too. More people are looking over my way, nodding in agreement as they contemplate taking me up on the offer to allow the dance to heal their bodies.


Photo: OSA 109, a close up of the sacred booty in orange, at Full Moon gathering, Saturday August 4th

I see some women rocking their hips with a little more intention. Others even move their arms a little wider than few inches allotted by bent elbows. I am blessed to be here and activate the space with these beautiful people today. I see the diversity of movement throughout the people’s dances. I borrow some dances from my new dancing companions. I play with mixing and fusing what I see others doing into the dances moving me. Our open space is an infinite laboratory of possibilities. My dance is an activator of these sacred spaces.

daughter of mary, mother of binah

OSA 109
August 4, 2007
9:41am
St. Stephen Church Auditorium with Ma and Aaron
Last Day of Summer Dance Jam

Give Thanks! I have completed the Summer Dance Jam. I thought what a blessing it was to lead my mother through yoga, breathing, African dance moves, stretching. Guiding her through exercises that were awakening her to her vulnerabilities and her strengths. Pure magic. I thought how good it felt to be her coach and that she honored my process and surrendered to being led by her daughter. A powerful exchange between mothers and daughters when we can shift roles and help each other grow, heal, expand. I had envisioned a big group, a multitude of dancers for the finale of the Summer Dance Jam—and instead it was even better, me and my mother. What better way to conclude a project I birthed than with the woman who gave birth to me. In fact the day we dance together on is exactly 24 years and 11 months to the day since I was born in Austin, Texas.

My mother is an amazing woman and she tries very hard to support all her children, and other people’s children in everything she does. Just release, I am telling her. She holds all her tension in her shoulders. The weight of a long line of matriarchs resting on her. The pressure of being everything to everyone—wife, daughter, sister, mother, auntie, deaconess, science fair project coordinator for our family’s youngsters, keeper of the DC and PG County library systems, grocery store expert—all of it. She’s tight. We breathe repeatedly. There’s blockages; the same blockages that hinder all of us from living fully at every moment. The hesitation to breathe, the reluctance to release and go with the flow. The tense and stiff muscles we mistake for normalcy. Here, as we dance, we undo those things that no longer serve our elevation into our higher selves.

Again, I say, Ma, let go. It’s only now I realize the totality of the tightness, the tension. I am asking her release millenniums-old, wrapped, tucked, tied, twisted stuff—in one breath no less. She’s moving for all mothers in this moment. She is breathing into belly with all our hands on her stomach for every mother, for every womb-bearing being that has held on so tight, so tight for the sake of everyone else, that they sacrifice their own release. I am breathing with her. Staring into her eyes. Seeing Debra, Mary, Malissa, Martha, and Mary again. Seeing Vashti, Lillie, Laura, Rossie, Charlotte. All these aunties and grandmas and great-grandmas, some of whom I never even knew, now dance with us. They are cheering Ma on, telling her with each deeper exhalation the old wisdom they too learned—it’s okay to let go. Let it go. The dance flows when you let it go.

As I place my hands on her hips to stress which muscle I want her to gyrate, or twist her torso further as she exhales, or walk my feet next to hers so that she gets on the right rhythm, I wonder if she ever dreamed of this moment 25 years ago while she was awaiting my birth. I wondered if she ever imagined she’d be dancing with me, in my open space studio, receiving instruction on how to pump her pelvis, lift her chest, breathe. All these things I learned while dancing around her womb, and now she is relearning them in a new way. Are not all things a big circle. A circle, what goes around, loves back around.

Listing: OSA 73 thru OSA 113

Photo: OSA 108 at the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, Friday, August 3, 2007.


OSA 73: FRIDAY, JUNE 29, 8:15PM, corner of 14th & Monroe Streets, NW, met one-eyed Lawrence
OSA 74: SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 9:45AM, community dance classes with parents and kids at St. Stephen Church, 9:00pm, Eritrean family celebration in Northern Virginia
OSA 75: SUNDAY, JULY 1, @ 3PM, parking lot of Harriet Tubman Elementary School, Kenyon Street, NW, danced to the colors of the light spectrum, creating movement for each shade
OSA 76: MONDAY, JULY 2, 8PM, choreography workshop at St. Stephen
OSA 77: TUESDAY, JULY 3, 9 AM, St. Stephen church dance warm-up/lesson planning, Family Playground dancing with parents and children, 6:15pm, African Joy dance class and Galaxy Playground with Samaa and Saaku
OSA 78: WEDNESDAY, JULY 4, @ 10AM, in front of my house on Lamont Street, dancing to CD of meditation music
OSA 79: THURSDAY, JULY 5, 6:30PM, Samaa’s bellydance class at St. Stephen Church with Jen
OSA 80: FRIDAY, JULY 6, 8PM, AFRAM music festival, Baltimore, MD beside Camden Yards in the middle of a stiff crowd, dancing to the groove of Fertile Ground and Musiq Soulchild
OSA 81: SATURDAY, JULY 7, 9AM, St. Stephen’s dance classes, and in Philadelphia for Aimamet-t’s Freedom Party @ 11pm
OSA 82: SUNDAY, JULY 8, 4PM, Washington Square Park in New York City, with Monica and Elen with Jazz band, learning Afro-Peruvian dances and playing the “name game”
OSA 83: MONDAY, JULY 9, 8:15PM, choreography workshop at St. Stephen with Tameka, and waiting for hug from Amma at Shirlington, VA Hilton, 11pm and into the next morning.
OSA 84: TUESDAY, JULY 10, 11:15AM, family playground and dance classes at St. Stephen, artists’ galaxy playground with Samaa and Saaku in the evening
OSA 85: WEDNESDAY, JULY 11, noon, teenage dance workshop at St. Stephen’s
OSA 86: THURSDAY, JULY 12, 6:30PM, Samaa’s bellydance class at St. Stephen’s
OSA 87: FRIDAY, JULY 13, 10PM, outside White Egrit condo in Ft. Lauderdale, FL on 33rd Ave to Zaccai’s mbira
OSA 88: SATURDAY, JULY 14, sunrise, inside the Atlantic Ocean, moving to the rhythms of ocean waves at Ft. Lauderdale Beach, experimenting with balance, hip gyrations, and embodying the polyrhythm of water’s motions.
OSA 89: SUNDAY, JULY 15, sunrise, inside the Atlantic Ocean, dancing prayers in honor of my mothers Ft. Lauderdale Beach, and at Lincoln Road Mall in Miami @ 4pm
OSA 90: MONDAY, JULY 16, 1:30PM, home of Kia, and balcony of condo @ 10:30pm
OSA 91: TUESDAY, JULY 17, 6:15PM, dance classes and galaxy playground at St. Stephen Church, choreographing movement for a documentary film, “A Weigh With Words” with Liz, Saaku, Zaccai, Aliyah, and Zakiyah
OSA 92: WEDNESDAY, JULY 18, noon, dance workshop for teenagers at St. Stephen Church
OSA 93: THURSDAY, JULY 19, 6:30PM, Samaa’s bellydance class at St. Stephen Church
OSA 94: FRIDAY, JULY 20, @ 3PM, inside the Sculpture Gardens and @ 7th and Madison on the National Mall
OSA 95: SATURDAY, JULY 21, 9AM, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church, and at Mt. Sanai Hospital in Baltimore, MD, in labor and delivery waiting room @ 9pm
OSA 96: SUNDAY, JULY 22, 10PMish, outside house on Lamont Street, slow, frustrated, stubborn, funky mood and movement
OSA 97: MONDAY, JULY 23, noon, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church
OSA 98: TUESDAY, JULY 24, 10:30AM, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church
OSA 99: WEDNESDAY, JULY 25, noon, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church
OSA 100: THURSDAY, JULY 26, 6:30PM, Samaa’s bellydance class at St. Stephen Church
OSA 101: FRIDAY, JULY 27,10PMish, in front of my house on Lamont Street, waiting for friends to go to dinner
OSA 102: SATURDAY, JULY 28, 10AM, women’s healing dance celebration with Kiki and Carolou, and in Newark, NJ with the newlywed Bellards
OSA 103: SUNDAY, JULY 29, 2:41AM, a club, Hiro, at West 16th & 9th Ave, New York, NY, at ?uestlove party
OSA 104: MONDAY, JULY 30, noon, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church
OSA 105: TUESDAY, JULY 31, 10:30AM, choreography and classes at St. Stephen Church, choreographing movement for mothers in my family for “Spiral Dance,” and “Who Made Mar’Lissa?” dance pieces
OSA 106: WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1, noon, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church
OSA 107: THURSDAY, AUGUST 2, 6:30PM, Samaa’s bellydance class at St. Stephen Church
OSA 108: FRIDAY, AUGUST 3, 6:08PM, Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Grand Foyer
OSA 109: SATURDAY, AUGUST 4, 10AM, Summer Dance Jam Finale at St. Stephen Church, dance and yoga with my mother
OSA 110: SUNDAY, AUGUST 5, 12:37AM, Creative gathering at Todd Place with artist family, and sunset in front of my house @ 8:14pm
OSA 111: MONDAY, AUGUST 6, sunset, the “Turf” at Silver Spring on Fenton Street, platform of Silver Spring Metro Station and 60 bus stop at Ft. Totten Metro
OSA 112: TUESDAY, AUGUST 7, sunrise, in front of my house, and 10:20pm in front of my house
OSA 113: WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8, noon, dance workshops at St. Stephen Church, and sunset outside Rock & Roll Hotel on H St., waiting to get into “Can a Sista Rock a Mic?” show, and inside Rock & Roll Hotel

Listing: OSA 1 thru OSA 72

OSA 1

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Grand Foyer, 4:08pm

Washington, DC

OSA 2

Thursday, April 19 11:30am

African American Civil War Memorial, 11:30am

Photo: OSA 46 outside Madison Square Gardens, New York, NY, June 2, 2007

(Chicago, Illinois for OSA 3-5)

OSA 3

Friday, April 20

Gary Comer Youth Center, Youth Dance Jam, 3:30pm

Outside a Handlebar restaurant, 7:45pm

OSA 4

Saturday, April 21

McCormick Place Convention Center, Veranda, 5:00pm

She-Boom Drum Circle, moving the Greenfest audience, 6:00pm

OSA 5

Sunday, April 22

Corner of W. Huron and Ashburn at abandoned, weeded lot, 7:30am

OSA 6 into OSA 7

Monday, April 23—Tuesday, April 24

Dupont Circle, making sounds and motions with Zaccai on his birthday, 12:06am

Teaching at Sitar Center, 4:30pm

Washington, DC

OSA 8

Wednesday, April 25

Teaching at Hope Community Public Charter School, 1pm

OSA 9

Thursday, April 26

Low frequency, bitter, anger, tears, complaining, jealousy

OSA 10

Friday, April 27

Green Line from Southern Ave Station to Columbia Heights, 11:15am

moving in my seat, mad and sad, a woman laughs at me, thinks I’m crazy, today the dance is stifled, my body molded to the patterns of negative thoughts. This is the night I almost killed my movement with my stubborn, self-critical, unforgiving, bitter heart...until I had a dream.

OSA 11

Saturday, April 28

Kenyon & Park Rd, NW, 8:36am

Morning of the revival, I awake thinking I almost died and rejoicing that I am still alive to dance. In the dream the doctor told me I only had 6 more hours to live and I was so scared. How was I going to do 600 days worth of OSA in 6 hours? I fretted and soon an African man came to dance with me. As we danced I got stronger and happier and wasn’t afraid of dying. I awoke renewed with life and emailed lots of people. So many people responded to my testimony and committed to supporting me complete my 600 days. After sending the email, I rushed outside to do OSA. Two teenage girls approached me while my eyes were closed doing the movement prayer, “give thanks.” Blasting me back to the hustle and bustle of Columbia Heights, “Excuse me, Miss, Miss?” When I open my eyes, the Latina girl says, “What are you doing?” When I respond “praying,” the black girl says “To God?” I say yes. She moves in closer and orders me to do it again. “Let me see.” I do the sequence again. I have been doing “give thanks” for nearly two years now. It is different everyday, but with the same intention of thanksgiving. Everyone who dances with me, whether they know it or not, does “give thanks.” There are so many ways to praise. “Are you poor or something,” the Latina girl interrupts. “No,” I laugh to myself, I’ve never heard that one. “Where you live,” she demands. I tell her around the corner. “In a house?” I tell her it’s with roommates though, so she doesn’t think I own a house. “Oh,” she does not know how to integrate this information into the reality of what and who she thinks I am supposed to be. “Oh, okay...bye!” She grabs her black friend by the arm and the run off from me. I think how special a task I have, introducing our young people to the arts. Some of whom will never go to a theatre or a class or a workshop, some whose only introduction to their creative side is bold people crazy enough to dance on the street.

OSA 12

Sunday, April 29

Malcolm X Park, 9am, before kriya

OSA 13

Monday, April 30

outside Sculpture Garden gates, 7^th & Constitution, 8:56am

OSA 14

Tuesday, May 1

African American Civil War Memorial, 8:48am

OSA 15

Wednesday, May 2

Dupont Circle/Rock Creek Park, near P and 23^rd streets, playing dance games with Michael and Samaa, 5:10pm

OSA 16

Thursday, May 3

“The Mourning Commute,” dancing on the Green/Yellow line from Columbia Heights to Braddock Road metro, 8:40am

OSA 17

Friday, May 4

14^th & Sheridan street, NW, waiting for 52/54 bus southbound after “rub-n-roll” barter with Jaime, 5:18pm, lots of horns honking

OSA 18

Saturday, May 5

Takoma Funeral March, 10:25am on busted-up basketball court at Piney Branch & Cedar roads, NW

OSA 19

Sunday, May 6

pre-drum circle at Malcolm X Park, 1:05pm

OSA 20

Monday, May 7

“Beatboxing at the Back of Ghandi,” with Michael beatboxing rhythms for me to groove to, 21^st and Q streets by Dupont Circle @ Massachusetts Ave., 5:32pm

OSA 21

Tuesday, May 8

African American Civil War Memorial, 10:00am, filming for OSA documentary

and @ 14^th and U streets, outside McDonalds

OSA 22

Wednesday, May 9

Harriet Tubman Elementary School, 13^th street between Kenyon & Irving Streets, NW, 8:19pm

honks, horns, lights, yells, whistles, claps. random man yelling from car: “keep doing it, keep the faith, do what you have to do! Don’t never give up!” Curtis comes to inquire: “Is it yoga? How old are you? How old are you again?”

dancing for DCPS (District of Columbia Public Schools), who is accountable for praying for these schools, for the students, the teachers, the staff, the administration, the parents? all of these schools need an OSA prayer. It comes to me to dance on as many playgrounds and school fronts as possible before school begins again in September.

OSA 23

Thursday, May 10

The Mall @ 7^th & Madison Streets, NW, dancing for the standstill of cars in “rush hour,” 8:00am-ish. Wondering: does America even qualify as “open space” for the OSA project? With all the borders, immigration laws, zones, immigration raids, harassment, slavery, prisons, gated communities...is this place open, and accessible to the “public” of global humanity? Ideas formulating for doing OSA Yoga in DC’s “roughest” neighborhoods: Sursum Corda, Berry Farms, parts of Georgia Avenue, Shrimp Boat, Deanwood area. Also, visions of “OSA Booty”, hundreds of women descending on public spaces throughout DC and booty shaking continuously for intervals of 5 or 10 minutes, booty-activating places like the White House, the Monument, K street near all the office buildings, etc.

OSA 24

Friday, May 11

Carter Baron @ 16^th street & Colorado Ave, 12:25pm

Tenleytown H4 bus stop, 7:11pm

OSA 25

Saturday, May 12

Malcolm X Park, 12:33pm

OSA 26

Sunday, May 13

Mother’s OSA Booty Shuffle at corner of Georgia & Lamont @ 2:30pm. dancing for all the mothers I know, I do a rotation of give thanks movement prayer for each mother past and present and future. knuckleheads at eddie leonard’s carryout yell across Georgia avenue on mother’s day to a mother of movement: “shake that ass!”. Stupid. stupid stupid. this is the well wishing all mothers have to look forward to on the holy mother-honoring day.

OSA 27

Monday, May 14

Lamont & 11^th streets, 10:54pm, the last hour of the day. singing, chanting spinning dancing with zaccai and bhakti. per-a yelling about the power and magic of black people into the windows of innocent, hard-working, sleeping latino families.

OSA 28

Tuesday, May 15

14^th & Girard at urine-infused basketball court under the feet of old men and alcoholics, 9:05am. the old men play chess, listen to the radio and ask me what I’m doing. they tell me I’m doing a good job.

OSA 29

Wednesday, May 16

10:01pm Kenyon and Park Road, NW, practicing for my show, working on New Orleans dance and Spiral dance

OSA 30

Thursday, May 17

11pm, Kenyon & Park Road, NW, planning sound score for show in my head, practicing different combinations.

OSA 31

Friday, May 18

Open Space Activation @ Potter’s House Show, 8pm

OSA 32

Saturday, May 19

3131 Connecticut Ave, fountain in front of high-rise apartment building & Cleveland Park @ Connecticut & Porter Street, 3:00pm

OSA 33

Sunday, May 20

Artomatic, 8^th floor, 4:00pm

OSA 34

Monday, May 21

Takoma on 4^th Street across from Mamasita’s after Dr. Afrika’s talk, 9:40pm

OSA 35

Tuesday, May 22

waiting for Ellen @ M & 3^rd Streets, NE, 9:45 am

Malcolm X Park, 4:00pm

14^th & Columbia Rd, across from 7-Eleven, 11:30pm

OSA 36

Wednesday, May 23

dancing to laugh counselor Carla’s laughter at Silver Sprung, 5:30pm

Kenyon & Park Rd, 10:00pm

OSA 37

Thursday, May 24

Museum of the American Indian, around 10am

OSA 38

Friday, May 25

Mt. Pleasant Park @ 17^th & Lamont, 9:00am

OSA 39

Saturday, May 26

11^th & Lamont by Arthur’s w/ boxing man in all red, 10:30am

OSA 40

Sunday, May 27

Kenyon & Park Rd, 7:50am

OSA 41

Monday, May 28

National Airport Metro and car rental line, 8:00pm

Kenyon & Park Rd by T-Mobile Store, dancing to Zaccai’s sermon and poetry, 9:30pm

OSA 42

Tuesday, May 29

African American Civil War Memorial, 10:45am

OSA 43

Wednesday, May 30

Platforms at Columbia Heights and Gallery Place Metros, 8:30pm

Union Station, outside main door by the fountain, 9:00pm

(New York, New York for OSA 44-47)

OSA 44

Thursday, May 31

Union Station, gate E18 in Washington, DC, 12:40pm

Javitz Center, in 1E foyer, 5:12pm, New York, New York

OSA 45

Friday, June 1

6^th Avenue between 32^nd & 33^rd Streets, 6:00am

OSA 46

Saturday, June 2

outside Madison Square Gardens @ 8^th Ave & 33^rd St, 7:40am; 1E Foyer inside Javitz Center, 12:35pm and autograph line #29 for Deepak Chopra, 2:00pm

OSA 47

Sunday, June 3

11^th Avenue between 35^th & 36^th Streets across from Javitz Center in New York City, 12:35pm, inside Javitz Center at booth 939, 4:20pm

OSA 48

Monday, June 4

dancing with my shadow on 11^th Street, between Kenyon & Irving outside the soccer field, 7:05pm

OSA 49

Tuesday, June 5

Green Line Metro platforms @ Columbia Heights, Mt. Vernon Square & Southern Ave stations, 3:00pm

OSA 50

Wednesday, June 6

Montgomery Blair High School rehearsing with my students outside entrance, 4:30pm

OSA 51

Thursday, June 7

Kennedy Center by the fountains, 12:40pm

Green Line @ Columbia Heights & Southern Ave. Stations, 7:00pm

OSA 52

Friday, June 8

Lamont Street, slipping and gliding on concrete after the rain, 10:15pm

OSA 53

Saturday, June 9

Park Rd @ 13^th & 16^th Streets, 11:05am

Emergence Community Arts Collective during a film screening about political prisoners, 6:50pm

OSA 54

Sunday, June 10

Dance Afrika DC with men on stilts on 8^th St, NE and with Coyoba Dance Troupe, Dance Place, 4:00pm

OSA 55

Monday, June 11

Bowie Town Center while waiting for table at Olive Garden, 6:00pm and while waiting for ride at Safeway, 9:03pm

OSA 56

Tuesday, June 12

13^th & Park Rd, 9:30am

African American Civil War Memorial, 7:00pm

OSA 57

Wednesday, June 13

Kennedy Center by the fountains, 1:15pm

Busboys & Poets, waiting for Elen’s birthday celebration in bookstore area, 8:30pm

OSA 58

Thursday, June 14

13^th & Park Rd, 7:30pm

OSA 59

Friday, June 15

Freedom Plaza, 14^th Street side, with Zaccai singing and chanting, 8:20pm, “BE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE!”

OSA 60

Saturday, June 16

Lamont Street, with Elen, 10:04pm

OSA 61

Sunday, June 17

Malcolm X Park, drum circle, 5:45pm

OSA 62

Monday, June 18

Park and Kenyon St, 10:20pm

OSA 63

Tuesday, June 19

11^th & Lamont, with Zaccai playing mbira in the circle of water he poured onto the concrete, and Lamont & Sherman Ave, 7:00am

Terrace Level of Kennedy Center at Wyclef concert, 8:00pm

OSA 64

Wednesday, June 20

On Irving between 11^th & 13^th outside locked playground at Harriet Tubman Elementary, 3:00pm

OSA 65

Thursday, June 21

13^th & Park Rd and on Lamont St., with Zaccai playing mbira, 8:00am

Wisconsin Ave and Woodley Rd, 12:05pm

Wisconsin Ave and Fulton St., 3:45pm

OSA 66

Friday, June 22

Lamont Street, dialoguing about life and love with Elen, 9:45pm

OSA 67

Saturday, June 23

St. Stephen Church, Auditorium for Summer Dance Jam Open House, 10:00am

OSA 68

Sunday, June 24

16^th Street at Park Rd (in front of Sacred Heart Church), & Monroe St, & Newton St., 9:30am

OSA 69

Monday, June 25

St. Stephen Church, Auditorium

Choreography Workshop with Fiona, 8:08pm

OSA 70

Tuesday, June 26

St. Stephen Church, Auditorium

Facilitating Family Playground for Summer Dance Jam, 10:15am

Playing “Moving Lightpost” with Hawah, noon

OSA 71

Wednesday, June 27

inside the Lincoln Theatre at free concert by Brother Ah’s World Music Ensemble and Eleggua, back of orchestra level and balcony, 8:00pm

OSA 72

Thursday, June 28

beside and in front of Greater Harvest Baptist Church, 7:30am

Corner of Lamont & Sherman Ave

St. Stephen Church, 6:30pm @ Samaa’s 1^st bellydance class, met Jen

as of Day 72

Photo: OSA 67, June 23, 2007 "Family Playground" dance workshop

Day 72
Thursday June 28, 2007, 7:30 am
outside Greater Harvest Baptist Church
corner of Lamont and Sherman Ave.. NW in Washington, DC

It has been so long since I’ve stopped to write about my experiences. I have danced in many places these last 71 days. In different cities around the U.S. I’ve scared people, gotten people stopped at red lights to dance with me from their cars, avoided being run over by men who jump the curb at Safeway parking lots in Bowie, danced at parks where the only day time entertainment is pooping pigeons and pissing drunks, on the metro station platform during the mourning commute, in front of enormous condos where I weave in and out of second-hand smoke wafting down from balconies because $1 million doesn’t get you a yard—and over 60 more places, all different, all organic. This is such an awesome task, trying to recreate every moment for you. And I’m not going to do that, but I do want to give you a taste of my experiences. And it is my prayer that you will be “moved” to join me in at least one of my 600 days dancing around the globe.

There is a man who comments on me dancing at the corner of 13^th and Park Rd, NW. He says (everyday I see him), “Yeah, I know that’s dancing you doing...Yeah, I know you not on crack! See these other people think you on drugs, but I know you doing that moder-ryn dance.” I smile, what do you say to an endorsement from a community-man who celebrates that you’re not a crackhead? He is so genuinely excited to share that he knows the secret that apparently no one else knows. He keeps going, ensuring me that it’s okay for me to dance here because I’m doing something good. “Yeah, I like that moder-ryn dance because it don’t disrespect the man or the woman. Yeah, you know what I mean, it...it’s nice, it respect the man and the woman...” I nod, feeling warm-hearted for indulging his street wisdom. For him in this moment with me dancing (I never stop dancing to dialogue with passerby), a sacred space has opened and he’s delving into an artistic truth. Maybe I’m the only one who’ll ever listen. I keep dancing.

In New York City, outside of Madison Square Gardens at 7:48 am, I dance with scores of police cars surrounding in order to prepare 8^th Avenue for a marathon. There are people meandering on this early Saturday morning, some look as if there has been no separation between the night before and the day at hand. Homeless black men in identical white, black and gray, fatigue tank and short sets appear at random intervals around the corner. Everyone is surprised to see me. Some stop and stare a while. Some go to great lengths to “not” see me by not making any eye contact. Prince, from Queens, comes to ask me what church I dance at. A man from India watches me the whole time, smiling, elated to be sharing in the moment with me. I keep spinning, a collage of oranges and reds disturbing the gritty wash of gray that smothers every inch of this block. I keep spinning, praying that I can accelerate the breaking of the clouds when the sun has mercy and pours a little light on all these ashy New Yorkers.

If only I had known before now how ultimate healing comes from dancing, I would not have wasted so much of my time last year lamenting a lost love with tears and tantrums. I am learning in my own way. It is just after 7 am. I awake to my own tears in a friend’s house in Chicago. Everyone is asleep; no one available to console my broken heart. I want to not be by myself in this moment, but everyone is sleeping and I know for some, unfair, divinely perfect reason, I have to cry this one out alone. All of my muscles stiffen in disgust that I am once again drowning in the lake of self-inflicted illusions and choosing to lay in this negative space. Covering my mouth with my hands, I slide out of bed, careful to not wake anyone up with my tears. In the bathroom I avoid my eyes in the mirror. Moving quickly I wrap my hair, grab a t-shirt and head downstairs and out the door. Walking down the street I have no idea where I will go. I keep walking, crying louder now that I am safe in the anonymity of the outdoors. Two blocks from the house there is an abandoned lot with overgrown grass and broken bottles. I pick this place to be my sanctuary. It is only day 5 and already I find myself grateful for this committed personal time. I had not intended it to be my therapy, but it has become that in so many ways. I am crying so hard now. I stare at the mirror of my shadow thankful it can’t distinguish my scowl from my form. I will myself to move, to swing an arm, to bend a knee, to do something, anything that will make me the victor over my negative emotions. For nearly ten minutes I merely twist my torso side to side, my legs immobile under the weight of my anger. With each swing I toss more rage into the universe and into to the laps of the spirit guides who arranged this painful, heart-beaten ordeal. Slowly and stubbornly I surrender to some movement. I play with my shadow like a child banished to the corner and mad at her mother. On this day, it takes me the whole hour to finally move my body fluidly. My anger and pain stifles me, constricting what would be a graceful bend into a stiff, energy-depleting statue of rage. It takes so much time to heal; and on this day I experience the duality of pain and thanksgiving in one, slow dance.

Jumping, leaping, spinning, we hurl our bodies into the stagnate space of liberty on the west side of Freedom Plaza in Washington, DC. Tourists pass by pointing us out like we are circus freaks. We sing, we chant impromptu songs about freedom, we melt into the darkness as the sun falls down on the other side of buildings. We shake wildly, daring others to abandon the lifeless gray boxes positioned along the arteries of the world’s most powerful city. Within a walk’s reach of the White House, I know there is surveillance, so I want whoever’s watching to have something artistically stimulating to watch tonight. “BE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE!” we scream at the top of our lungs as we dip and dive in and out of people’s way. A woman at the 52 bus stop stares through us. I wonder why she doesn’t just acknowledge us with eye contact. It takes so much energy to be disconnected from people. Naturally, I move in circles, the path of the indigenous dances. I dance around a lonely tree, envisioning the dance that the Africans from Benin did before crawling into the bottom of slave ships. It was a dance of forgiveness around the Tree of Forgetfulness; seven times in one way, seven times the opposite. The dance was done to erase the memory of those kin who had sold them to the Europeans. It was done so that when they reached wherever they were going, they wouldn’t curse their brethren from a foreign land. In this space, 600 years later, I am still dancing their prayers of forgiveness. We sing freedom with our bodies on a sidewalk bordering the pillar of the Free World, asserting our liberty with a holy dance in the midst of static cages. How blessed we are to know that we can always access our freedom internally.

This morning, as I moved through all it was to have reached day 72 I thought about all the places I’ve yet to dance in. Southeast, DC where I lived for 20 years, Brazil, where I’m moving to next year, Texas, where I haven’t been since I was born. The path before me is so infinite. Day 71 at the Lincoln Theatre dancing on the balcony to the musical magic of Eleggua, I spun bold spirals into the darkness with my arms and leaping legs. My back an endless river of possibilities twisting me this way and that way into all manners of opportunities. I felt the suspension of fear, the levity of freedom oozing into my toes and dripping off the sweat from my forehead. I was so happy and ready to take on the world with my dancing journeys. This morning, my body stiff (because I have an aversion to properly stretching), I gently swayed to the rhythm of Sherman Avenue’s rush hour. A singer pulls up to the curb, gives me his CD, and tells me that he needs a “cute, lil’ dollface like me...” Raul wants me to stop my dancing and walk with him and his five year old daughter, Rhianna, up the street. The 68 bus drivers steal glances in between the steering. I shout and cheer when I feel it’s been an hour into the blinding sun. One more victorious day being beautiful, wonderful, dancing me.