Marguerite Luuna (Instagram @margueriteluuna), a 19-year-old pre-professional dance student. We had an instant connection since we both lived in Singapore. Love her fearlessness, her quirkiness, and her beauty when she dances.

I laughed really hard when he said that to me. Because he compared my choice to leave Apple Inc. and move to Paris to pursue my passion for dance to “walking down the street naked”.

Well, if I was “walking down the street naked”, then for sure I did not do it alone. There were many people cheering me on, trying to give me their jackets and giving me warm water.   

My mum who lives in the United States, my aunt from Canada, my relatives from Tokyo and 30 of my friends and family from different parts of the world, were there for my first stage performance on June 21 this year at the Auditorium Saint Germain in Paris, France. When I had first mentioned to them that, yes, I was going on stage to perform, it was a passing comment. I did not expect them to actually show up. There are no words to express what that means to me.

When I was younger, showing up did not mean so much. My rational brain would say, well, it is a long way to show up just for one day. There were other excuses: “Well, I am moving around too much. I don’t have time to keep in touch with everyone. They are not thinking of me anyway. Sending a gift is just as good.”

Bouquets of love: flowers from the Netherlands and from friends in Paris after my first stage performance.

Yes, now I know that sending a gift is not comparable to showing up. The memories that get embedded in our bodies, the peace and connections we feel and bring to each other.

In many ways, dance has saved me and my relationships, together with my brush with death and my reconnection with God. Maybe not all of us have to give up our day job to pursue our passion. Doing what you love does not necessarily mean a change in lifestyle.

Dance has, however, brought me back to the love and peace within me, something that I was given at birth. It has helped me cultivate an intelligence with my body that I did not have. As one of my contemporary Martha Graham dance teachers said: “We are sexy because we dance from the inside of ourselves. Not from the outside!” Well, now I am always sexy.

This marks the end of my three-month series of weekly column, #SpeakingInDance, for Ming Pao Weekly. My gratitude to the publication for giving me the opportunity to share a bit of my personal story.

I thank you, dear reader, especially for reading through my words. I hope that my columns have provided some levels of comfort or, simply, a different perspective. Here’s wishing all of you the best in your “inward” journey.

Dance if it moves you.

Make buttons if that brings you peace.

Bake cakes if it fills you with love.

Write if it makes your heart sing.

Sing.

Pray.

Sit with nature.

Keep dancing, in your very own way. 

Anything that connects you with a sense of love, peace and trust, to you and to the others around you.

May your worlds be filled with a sense of completeness.

Merry Kissmas. 

A picture of the beautiful and lovely Valentine Raymond (pre-professional dance student) and I. Thank you for refusing to honor me with grandma status in class when I literally so deserved it.

“You are not required to save the world, or anyone for the matter, with your art. It isn’t valuable only if it rescues or raises money or makes an enormous impact. It can be simply for the love of it. That is not frivolous or selfish in the slightest. If the only person it saves is you, that’s enough.”

~ Jen Hatmaker, American Christian author, speaker, blogger and television presenter

Here’s a toast to to everyone who has shown up for me:

HIGH SCHOOL SISTERS

I saw my high school friends after almost 15 years for the first time at the funeral of our late classmate, Angela. Since then, they have been one of my anchors. Perhaps they always were and I simply failed to notice it. One of them, who came with her husband to see my performance in Paris, said: “I left my three kids at home with my mum because I thought you had a solo!”  Yes, I had a solo — the three seconds when I was walking on stage before everyone else came on.  (LOL)

FRIENDS FROM PARIS AND AFAR

My friend Jessica, who brought her beautiful daughter and her mom, and showed up with flowers from the Netherlands which she carried all the way on the train.

Willy, Chris and Jim, my brothers from another mother and father, who were also there at my worst health.

My dear friends in Paris who kept trying to take pictures of me inside the auditorium when they were not allowed to. Amongst them, my friend and editor, Suzanne. Thank you for your beautiful and heartfelt input to my columns.

FAMILY

Thank you for your unlimited patience and for forgiving me even though I blamed you for everything. For not leaving even when I was impossible. For giving me space when I needed it.

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“Respirer! Respirer!” (In English, it means “breathe”.)

In my first class with Lalia, my French jazz teacher, she would stop the whole class, run over to me and use her fingers to open my mouth. She must have said “respirer” over 30 times in one class. Now, whenever I look at her, I see “respirer” all over her lovely face with her curly red hair.

In dance, breathing is part of the training. We use our breaths to connect with each other during a choreography, so we can become as one and synchronise our movements. We exhale and use contractions (push out of a breath from our pelvic floor) when we jump to give us more thrust — like a rocket which pushes air down to go up. We use our breaths to relax our muscles and facilitate efficiency and fluidity in our movements.

We, as humans, can live without food for about 40 days and three days without water. On average, we can last around three minutes without air. Yet, we think about eating more often than about breathing. Dance training has helped me realise the importance and the power of the breath, something so basic and so vital, yet it is something that is often overlooked.

Sometimes, I wish I had gotten to where I am today a little sooner. There were too many important things I had taken for granted. I took people, health and even my breaths for granted. I held my breath often, when I was stressed at work, when I was playing video games, when I was nervous. I did not feel the importance of nature, the power of the universe or the connections to each other.

My beautiful friend and former schoolmate, Paula Gay (Instagram @paola.yag), who is an 18-year-old pre-professional dance student, executes a powerful jump. Photo taken by Juan Manuel Abbelan (Instagram @juanmanuelabellan)

I was 28. I wanted to see the world. My brain was not ready to be tied down to one person. Ben* and I were together for three years but in my mind, I enjoyed being loved so I kept him around even though we had officially broken up. I never looked inside my heart and realised how much I loved him.

I almost fell to the ground when he told me on the phone that his parents had been arrested on murder charges in Japan. There were people connected to the Japanese mafia that were sending him death threats. He got very ill, was hospitalised and his weight dropped to 40kg.

I begged him to let me move to Japan to be with him, many times.

His exact words to me were: “Do you want to break up very hard next time? Do you want us to end up hating each other? We have to stop here. I cannot let you move here [to Japan] for me. You do not have any friends here, you do not speak the language. And every day, I have to see my parents in jail and people are threatening to kill me. This is not the life I would offer you. You have always wanted to see the world. I cannot let you give that up, for this.”

He bought our tickets to New York, helped me find an apartment and made sure I could start my life there comfortably. That was the last time we saw each other.

The guilt I felt was rather enormous. Guilt for what I had done to him when we were together and guilt for not being able to be there for him when he needed me the most. I had to learn to forgive myself. It took a few years with a lot of tears and some self-destructive behaviour. I blamed it on being “too young”.

At that time, I wondered: “Why is this happening to me? I am not in a movie. This only happens in movies, this tragic dramatic love story crap.”

Certainly, it had nothing to do with being young. Ben clearly understood what it meant to love someone even though he was only one year older than me.

Maybe it was “designed” to happen. Some people are on the fast track and understand all this earlier in their lives. I needed multiple earthquakes to shake me to the core to find the connection.  The connection within myself, to a love that is saturated with peace, harmony and hope. A love that is necessary to feel within oneself first so that we can offer it to others. A love that is only possible if we let go, trust and forgive. A love that leads to an understanding that one of the ultimate paths to peace is forgiveness, not just of myself but of others.

Paris at night, Domaine National du Palais-Royal.

“We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers,  as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.” 

 ~ Herman Melville, American novelist

*Names have been changed to protect their privacy.

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The temperature has started to drop — the lowest is around 3 degrees Celsius on average. The sun has been hiding out a lot and the rain has become our frequent visitor.

As I was walking home last night after class from Bastille, I saw a young man with his backpack kneeling next to an older man who lived on side of rue Rivoli. On his own, he was delivering food to the homeless people in the bitter cold. I could feel his warm heart from a distance.

Antonin Vanlangendonck, 22, a beautiful French contemporary choreographer and dancer. “I tap into themes that are vital to me, such as nature, the possibilities of body, my past and my thoughts on how to build the future, my fears and my convictions. I also try to have inspirations from books, authors and dancers — from the ones whom I look up to. Martha Graham, Carolyn Carlson, Ohad Naharin and Beaudelaire or Edgar Poe — for his poetry and severity of the words and ideas they wanted to share in their art.”

His action reminded me to make sure to bring a small package to the man who lives next to the entrance of the supermarket near my home. He has blonde hair and red cheeks. He does not bother anyone or ask for anything from other people. He sits there. Sometimes, he gets up and walks around the block. On occasion, I will leave him something, usually when he is not looking.

It’s cautiousness on my part. I try not to build a personal relationship with him. I have wondered if my concern is valid. I have wondered what his life story might be. Does he have a family? What happened to him? When I see him smoking, I want to tell him smoking is bad for him. I want to tell him that he needs to eat warm food in winter and not drink beer.

The Christmas lights have started to brighten up the Parisian streets. One of the most enchanting moments every year is when the Christmas lights on Champs-Elysées come on. Last year, the late Karl Lagerfeld did the inauguration of the Christmas lights there. This year was Ludivine Sagnier, a French actress and model who was nominated for Cesar Awards for Best Supporting actress in the movie Swimming Pool, directed by well-known French director Francois Ozon. Like last year, the lights are red. The company involved is committed to an eco-friendly approach and the lights will be used for a few seasons. The city is starting to be filled with festivities.

Christmas lights on Champs-Elysées.

I have always loved Christmas. It is one of the few times of the year when most of us would put down our differences for a few days and focus on our similarities. Efforts will be made to see the people you have not seen in a while with the hope to share a beautiful time together. A synchronised movement to remember to love.

Many years ago, I saw a movie titled Joyeux Noël. It has been one of those “based on true events” movies that stuck with me. The film is based on the actual event called Christmas Truce, a series of unofficial ceasefires along the Western Front of World War I around Christmas 1914. French, German and British soldiers decided on their own to stop trying to kill each other, put down their weapons and crossed trenches to exchange seasonal greetings and talk.

In some areas, men from both sides ventured into no man’s land on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to mingle and exchange food and souvenirs. Apparently, there were joint burial ceremonies and prisoner swaps, while several meetings ended in carol-singing. Men played games of football with one another, creating one of the most memorable images of the truce.*

Fashion designer Antony de Maison (Instagram @antonydemaison) and model-stylist Julie Lucas (Instagram @julie_lucas_cz) have been friends since they were three years old. Now they work together in Paris, France.

In the movie, it also showed that even though the ceasefire lasted for only a few days, it instilled something back within some of the soldiers — the beauty of humanity.

I have wondered, maybe if everyone loved dancing or are passionate about some form of the arts, we would not have any wars. As we would be too busy with creating out of love. If we are more connected with love and peace, would hate and anger still drive our actions? What would make us love each other more than the smell of blood?

I hope one day, we will find the answers.

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_truce

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I felt irritated, inexplicably angry, and my breaths were heavy. It was one of those moments in which I felt as though I “hated” dance. Knowing that I cannot live without something that can take so much out of my body and my life, and can cause me so much pain sometimes make me “hate” it. On days like this, I felt sick to think about dancing. I felt like I was being controlled by something I loved. Consumed by it even.

Valentine Raymond, a pre-professional dancer student. My beautiful friend and dance mate, seen here rehearsing for her performance last June in a photo taken by her father, filmmaker and photographer Bruno Raymond-Damasio. (Instagram @beeglaz).

I was not unfamiliar with such feelings, especially after weeks of hard training. There would be moments when I wanted to stop dancing altogether. At the same time, during moments like this, everything else in life seemed harder and uglier. I would walk down the street and become a magnet for other people’s irritable behaviour. I felt the urge to scream back and maybe even retaliate physically to strangers on the street.

This was also a signal that I needed to be alone and rest. I knew I couldn’t allow myself to be carried away by such intense negative emotions. As a momentary respite, a “revenge” coming from an insincere, hateful and unhappy place would not be something I want recorded in my report card.

I have wondered if I could say that “I love dancing”, as love should not be based on a need or control. It’s like if a person loves someone because of the love that the other person can give to them, is that love?

Many wars and much destruction had been carried out in the name of love. Is it love when it destroys and brings suffering? Or should love bring a sense of peace to you and others? Isn’t love simply a feeling of peacefulness that you experience? That love does not have to be perfect and infallible. That as far as in those moments, you are present with it, sincere in wishing the other person well without demanding anything back — that’s also love?

Just writing this makes my brain hurt as I am definitely philosophising love to death.

Love is feeling and, hence, it is very personal.

At the wedding of Auque and Vong. Jean Luc Vong, a Tahitian, is the one in the picture with me. He and his partner are the owners of Auque & Vong Fleuriste (Instagram @auque_vong) in Paris. I walked passed their impressive flower shop in my first month in Paris. A year and a half later, I was one of the witnesses at their wedding.

I remember the many moments in Paris when I have felt love. They were not intense extended long moments of excitement or elation. They were peaceful, very present and kind moments, moments without expectations, from both sides.

Moments of love, Part I
Beautiful 17-year-old Paula* (who was once my pre-professional classmate) walked quickly over to me when I stood on the side during class. She whispered to me in a concerned tone: “You stopped? Why you stopped?”

In my deliriously famished state, I replied: “I can’t do these complicated steps.”

Her worried face relaxed and she said: “If you want, you can ask me. Okay! You follow me.” Then she got into position and signalled to me to follow.

Maybe it was how she always made the effort to speak to me in English while always apologising for how little English she knew (even when I was the one who was supposed to speak better French). Maybe it was her innocence and the purity in her intentions.

I felt love.

Moments of love, Part II
My floor work teacher, Arnaud, rushed over to me during class last week to help me land safely. He said, with a big smile during the rescue: “It is forbidden to put the weight on the head and your neck as you practise the forward shoulder roll.”

I felt love.

Moments of love, Part III
I don’t know his name but I have on a few occasions bought meat from a French butcher at Marché Bastille. He has a slightly rounded face and he wears thick black-framed glasses. Once, he waved to us with one hand while using the other hand to pull down the paper towels. As we walked over, he pointed to my friend’s eight-year-old son, who had dripped some sauce all over his shirt. With a big warm smile, he handed us the paper towels and then he went back to serving his customers.

I felt love.

It is intriguing how many colors love has. There is the highly fulfilling one when love means putting each other’s interest on equal footing without demanding or expecting something in return. Even in brief encounters amongst strangers, love can be felt. Then there is the more consistent love we feel with our family, our partners and our friends. The more intense love we experience when we wish that it was us who suffer instead of our loved ones. The love that gives us the strength to walk away instead of staying in a fight. There is also the kind of love where we occasionally “hate”.

Seems that love is never alone either. Love often comes with kindness, compassion and a bit of willpower. The willpower that stops us from choosing to act on hate as opposed to love.

A beautiful sweeping stairway in the Grand Palais in Paris, France.

#chooselove
#rememberlove

“Hate begets hate; violence begets violence; toughness begets a greater toughness. We must meet the forces of hate with the power of love…” ~ Martin Luther King Jr. (1929 – 1968), American Christian minister and civil rights activist

*Name has been changed to protect her privacy.

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When choreographer and dancer Nicholas Palmquist finished teaching one of his classes in Shanghai, a Korean dancer came up to him, obviously quite moved by the experience. She told him: “I have been following you on Instagram for three years. I never thought I would be able to dance in your class. I am truly happy.”

I had an egotistical moment right there. My brain went off and shouted: “I did this!” I felt a sense of accomplishment as I was the one who had invited New York-based Nicholas to Shanghai this past August, for a media interview with Numero China and to teach a series of contemporary jazz dance classes. I was proud not only to see how full his classes were but to see that the effort helped make a difference in someone’s life.

There is a little story behind how Nicholas and I met. 

I first saw his Burnout Fugue video (above) on Instagram at the end of March and it was one of his most viewed videos. At that time, I had just set up my own company, sml Dance Limited, to curate dance performances across platforms and to inspire people to reconnect within themselves and to feel, move and expand more. I was moved by the generosity, tenderness and humility in his dance movements and choreography. I read interviews he had given and felt such an affinity to his values. A lightbulb went on in my head: “Hey, maybe I can write to him and see if he wants to work with me.”

As soon as I had that thought, an avalanche of self-doubt came crashing down.

“Why would he work with you? You haven’t made anything yet with your company. Do you really think someone as respected as he is would reply to your message? He has Jennifer Garner as one of his followers. You are not even known in the dance industry. Are you serious, Patsy?”

I thought I had grown out of self-doubt, but obviously I hadn’t, even though it used to be much worse when I was younger. When something went wrong, the first question that popped up in my head was usually, “Was this my fault?”, followed by “Why weren’t you a better person? You shouldn’t have said that. You are just not good enough”. It was like a broken record in my mind.

I decided to press the “delete” button on self-doubt. I also decided to change my mindset about “asking”. I would ask without expecting a “yes”. If the answer was a “no”, I would still be grateful and move on. I decided to embrace the “no”.

I can’t explain in words the peacefulness I felt when I saw the positive reply from Nicholas. 

Five months later, when we finally sat down face to face, I asked him why he accepted the invitation: “Had it not cross your mind that I could be a psychopath or just a horrible person?” 

He replied: “I didn’t get that feeling from you when we spoke on the phone and in our correspondence. You were always clear that whatever happens has to work for the both of us. And psychopaths don’t work like that. So I didn’t feel that way.  Besides, I have gone on trips that were not the greatest. Yet, even on those trips, I learnt something from them.”

A photo I took of Nicholas Palmquist (Instagram @napalmquist) at The Middle House, Shanghai, in August 2019. Art direction by Fran Lam.

I am happy that I did not let the old fear of “no” stop me from reaching out to Nicholas, as that would have meant passing on the chance to meet his beauty in person. He is someone who believes that dance needs to come from the heart and has inspired many to dance. Someone who lights up the studio when he enters and captivates you with his movements. And as a teacher, someone who truly wishes to see you succeed and speaks only encouraging words.

“Okay, if you can’t do the movements I just showed you, then just move your feet and move your shoulders like this, just move them… I am not judging you,” he said during one class. “Every one of you could have been doing something else tonight, yet you have chosen to be here in this class. That itself is an achievement. No matter what happens, I am proud of you. Just keep moving and keep trying.”

Thank you for those words, Nicholas. (And cheers to plenty more in the future!)

The post #SpeakingInDance: Embracing Rejection appeared first on 明周文化.

I looked up to the ceiling and said: “Please God, please just let me die.”

It was another night of no sleep with my heart pounding like it was about to explode. Another meal I could not hold down. I could not stand up or wear clothes because my skin hurt. I had to imagine myself outside my body to escape the pain. It was hard to look at myself in the mirror, even harder to feel the concerns of my beloved family and friends when they saw me.

I was sad and a bit angry. I thought I had done everything right. I had always done my best, tried to study hard, worked hard and I tried my best to be a good person. I thought I had everything under control. I couldn’t understand why it was happening and why none of the doctors I saw could help me. It felt like I had lost all control as I could not fix it, stop it or understand it — that bothered me just as much as the physical sufferings.

As I was standing on the edge of the roof of my apartment building looking down, it felt like someone came up behind me and gently guided me back to safety. I felt a warmth that I could not explain. It was as if God was speaking to me: “This is not your path.”

That was over seven year ago.

I have learnt that one must listen when God speaks. Some of the most bizarre things that had happened to me were exactly what I needed the most. There was often an important message.

Performing on stage at the end-of-the-school-year performance at the Auditorium Saint Germain (Paris, France). Photo taken by Juan Manuel Abellan (Instagram @juanmanuelabellan).

If I could go back and choose whether or not to have that entire experience, the answer would be an enthusiastic “YEEEEEEEES… and a little sooner please”.

Sounds crazy? Not at all, it’s easy for me to say this now because it is obvious that I made it through. More critically, the experience helped me connect with myself and others better, and led me to the most important lesson of my life — learning to let go.

No matter how much I thought I was in control, I was not in control. At the very least, for sure I could not control the weather, my health or how other people behaved. The illusion of control caused unnecessary stress and disappointments, and took me away from the flow of life. It made me chase after things and people blindly. I needed to learn that I should have a preference and a hope. That is, however, very different from believing that I was God and could control the outcome. And when things did not turn out as I had hoped, I needed to trust, understand the message and evolve.

Preparing for a make-up test – trying on the new Christmas colors. Photo taken by make-up artist, Wallace Woo (Instagram @dimiwally)

There is another special bonus from having survived the ordeal — my friends think I am amazing. They tell me, “You are so strong” or “You are one of the strongest people I know”. Well, I am not sure if my friends and I share the same definition of “strong”. But yes, I do have a strength from my trust in God, in the power of the universe and in my internal compass. I also have a strong appreciation for life. Not only am I able to eat, sleep and poop nowadays, I even get to follow my passion in dance.

When I dance, the chatter in my head stops. I dance for the feelings of joy, freedom, love, hope, peace, honesty, fearlessness, beauty, compassion, friendships and, most importantly, I dance as it gives me the chance to share all of that with you.

A picture from my first solo performance, of my choreography in Jan. 2019. A piece about trials and renewals. Photo taken by Tommaso Giuntini, dance photographer (Instagram @t0mm1x)

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Mark 9:23 NLT

I had the fortune to dance in the same studio as Antonin Vanlangendonck, 22, a French contemporary choreographer and dancer who started dancing when he was four. “I have understood early on that I wanted to tell something with my body that words can’t express. It’s a feeling of freedom and because there’s no limit to body, there is no limit of inspiration and it is a means to tell everything without words.” (Instagram @antonin_van.pro)

I went too fast and threw myself against the wall while trying to do the handstand. I banged my head so hard that it startled everyone in the studio. Yet, I did not feel the pain as my body was filled with rage because I had failed to do it the first time. I did not want anyone to touch me or help me. I waited back in line for my turn to do it again. My brain was silent. My body was flowing. Fast floor rolls to the other side of the studio and a handstand against the wall — that was the required dance phrase.

My turn came and I went for it again. The sharp pain in my knees did not bother me. Then there it was, I did it! I did the handstand with perfect form. I let out of a breath. I felt a sense of peace. As I was coming down from the pose, I was startled by loud clapping. I turned around and there they were, all my classmates clapping and smiling at me — for making the movements like a hardcore rebel.

It was a moment to remember. Not only because I did something that I could not do before, but the unexpected cheering and lovingness from my 16- to 21-year-old classmates were heartwarming.

I can’t explain what was going through my body in those moments. I could only attribute it to a leap of faith. Faith in knowing and believing that I could do it. There was no dialogue with myself. I just felt the trust — trust that my body would catch me and support me. It felt very peaceful, even though it was pretty hardcore. I love those feelings — in dance and in life.

A photo of me in rehearsal. Make-up, hair, photography and art direction by the talented Wallace Woo. (Instagram @dimiwally)

People have asked me how I mustered up the courage to leave a stable job at Apple Inc. and move to Paris to take up dance when I hardly knew anyone here and did not speak French. The truth is there was no courage involved. Just peacefulness and a sense of “Yes, this is what we are going to do”.  I used the word “we” as it was a decision that my body made and my brain followed.

I have had to learn how to make peaceful decisions like this. For a long time, I would go for things that felt exciting in the head. Almost always, things that felt exciting in the head were not necessarily the best things for me. It has been said that sometimes our brains do not know us best.  The brain could be considered as the “software” of a computer. It stores memories, it helps us plan and has many cognitive abilities. It also functions as a receiver, as it picks up signals like a radio, hence the term “telepathy”. Like any software program, it can also “miscompute” as a result of out-of-date programming or memories.

I have had to calibrate what peacefulness feels like. Now, I look at nature or look at the people whom I have established nurturing relationships with, and pay attention to what the sensations are in the body. One key criteria I always use is how my breath is. If I can suddenly feel myself breathing in a more settled and deeper manner, it is a good signal. If the body feels completely solid and calm, then it is a “go”.

It’s what the modern world has come to know as a the leap of faith, the act of believing or accepting something based on a feeling and outside the boundaries of logic and reason. It’s the foundation of faith, religion and the most powerful and loving actions.

To me, the legacy of the late Desmond Thomas Doss* (1919–2006) is a good example of the power of faith. He was a devout Seventh-day Adventist who believed in Sabbath-keeping, a vegetarian lifestyle and nonviolence. He served as combat medic with an infantry company in World War II. Because of his refusal to kill an enemy soldier or bear arms in combat, he was bullied, beaten and almost thrown out of the infantry. He held on to his trust in God and relied on His strength. In peace, he protested and fought back in court. On May 4, 1945, Doss, alone with his faith, saved the lives of 75 wounded infantrymen atop of a ridge in Okinawa amid the crossfires of the enemy troop. Among other injuries, he had suffered a left arm fracture and, at one point, had 17 pieces of shrapnel embedded in his body.

Mara Gyparaki, my friend and a fellow ballerina, in her lovely handstand. “Sometimes you have to let life turn you upside down, so you can learn how to live the right side up.” (Instagram @mara_gyp)

Perhaps if Doss had thought about his actions carefully and evaluated the potential consequences, maybe he would not have done what he did. What he did can be considered more than a little “crazy”. Because he believed and trusted in his faith, he actually thought that he could do it. Faith is what guides many great thinkers, inventors and leaders. Faith gives us hope, a hope that defies logic, a hope that leads to peace, love and beautiful actions. It is also a reflection of our desire to believe in something bigger than ourselves, and in each other.

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” — Steve Jobs, 1997, Apple TV commercial, “The Crazy Ones”

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hacksaw_Ridge

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Beautiful Carmen Serrat, 17 years old. Thank you for always cheering me on in class and for trusting in me when we danced together.

______

There is quite a lot of repetition in dance training. In fact, I went through a whole year of doing almost the same exercises everyday. Repetition is used to build strength, precision and, ultimately, perfection. It is through repetition that we build muscle memory so the brain doesn’t have to think about it anymore.

I would go out of breath and sweat bullets even with the most basic and the simplest exercises. Cambré (arched, bending of the body from the waist to the side or back) used to give me cramps in my lower back. When trying to find my balance in passé relevé, my whole body would tremble and lose balance. I would get upset and disappointed whenever that happened. I asked my teacher what I should do and he told me: “Don’t fight the shaking and the trembling. When you feel the shake, shake, shake in your body, accept them. Let your body register the trembling so it would find a way to recalibrate itself. Don’t go to your head and get angry at yourself because your brain wants perfection. Trust your body and its intelligence.”

Like many of us, I used to spend a lot of time sitting. In school, we sit for hours in class, only to go home to sit for more hours to do homework. The sitting continues when we get a job. We sit and look at the computer as if it is our best friend. Sometimes, we don’t even go to the bathroom and continue to sit until we finish writing the last few pages of the presentation. So learning to trust my body was a new concept.

I trusted what the teacher told me and kept at it. It was about nine months into my first year, when one day, I lifted my leg and then there it was — a surprisingly decent développé à la seconde. I suddenly had the right turn out and my leg was higher than 90 degrees, in perfect balance. My body just knew how to do it.

An amazing Marc Chagall painting on the ceiling of the Opéra Garnier (since 1964).

As you might have heard, the truth is, our bodies were not created for prolonged sitting. Sitting makes us forget about the rest of our bodies. We have for a long time given so much importance to cerebral thinking and so little to our body. It’s as if the rest of our body matters less. It’s as if the rest of our body is simply a tool for our brain, our thinking.

Maybe the brain is not the ultimate “control centre”. What if the body is just as intelligent and powerful as the brain? What if memory resides not just in the brain but also in the body? Could it be true that we could expand our potential by connecting with the 30 trillion+ cells that reside in the body?

Whenever I see people dancing, I know that our bodies posses immense power. Dancers communicate so much emotion. They do not do so through their brains. They share powerful emotions through the tip of their toes, their wrists and their muscles — through every inch of their bodies.

In retrospect, there were a couple of pivotal moments in my life that made me believe that the body is at least as important as the brain.

I was once dosed with different medications for my supposedly “mental imbalances”.  The psychiatrist told me that for “a better quality of life”, I had to keep taking these different sedatives and antidepressants, which were making me feel worse.

It was then that I met the late Dr Kao, a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner from Hong Kong. He told me something which I would never forget. He said: “Western doctors believe that our emotions are controlled by the brain. So when you suffer emotionally, they give you pills that alter the chemical balances in your brain. In Chinese medicine, we believe that our emotions are intimately linked to the body — in our five organs. When we feel sad or depressed, it’s attributed to a congestion in one or more of our organs. The liver, for example, is where anger sits. Heart is for sadness. The task is to move the congestion and help the body heal itself.”

Love amongst strangers: I received these cookies from Paolo Forti, the owner of a car service who rescued me when I was lost and hungry in the middle of Tuscany. ❤️

Dr Kao gave me free acupuncture sessions and natural herbs every day for two months until I was “cured”. I will always treasure what he did for me and for that, I say, “Thank you, Dr Kao.”

During my recovery period, I also encountered a relatively new form of therapy called somatic therapy*. It is based on the premise that our bodies hold on to past traumas which are reflected in our body language, posture and also expressions. In some cases, past traumas may manifest as physical symptoms like pain, medical and emotional issues, and addictions. Through a safe environment, I was guided to “release” the trauma through my body. It helped me increase my awareness of my body — through bodily sensations, movements, breathing techniques and healing touch. I still use some of these techniques today, on a different level, to help me understand my physical limits and access my emotional intelligence.

I have come to believe that the mind remembers the details of events and can help us in many aspects. What is more subtle and less talked about is what the body actually remembers or stores from our life experiences. And how much intelligence the body posses. Maybe that is why sometimes we cannot just “erase” bad memories from the brain and feel better. Perhaps that is why it is okay to cry, feel angry and sad when we need to. Let the body “flush” out safely the “unpleasant emotions”, so that they do not get cemented into our personality or cause irreparable damages.

Perhaps, we should connect and trust the body more.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~ Maya Angelou 

*https://thesomatictherapycenter.com

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Enzo Guiho-Theaux, 20 years old. He started dancing when he was 18. This is his jump after one year of training. Enzo, thank you for helping me with my attitude derrière. (@enzoguiho – Instagram).

At the age of 48, Patsy Lo left a high-powered job with Apple Inc. to take up dance (ballet and contemporary Martha Graham techniques) full-time in Paris. She had never danced before.

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As part of the dance training, we are required to rest on the weekends, to have at least one day a week to do absolutely nothing. Rest is required if we want to grow.

It is on the weekends that I allow myself to indulge and eat little bit more. It is ideal to maintain a low Body Mass Index (BMI) in order to train at an optimal level. Professional female dancers have an average BMI of 18 percent.  Luckily for me, at my lovely “more senior age”, I am getting away with a BMI of 19.5 to 20. Phew! So while I stick to a strict food plan during the week, weekends are when I can eat freely, or as they call it, “cheat days”.

Sichuan food is almost a must on the weekends. Yes, there is authentic Sichuan food in Paris! We go to a two-storey Sichuan hot pot place called Fondue Chongqing in the 12th arrondissement, which offers everything from pig’s intestines to beef tripe.

Some weekends, I do not leave my apartment at all, especially if I need to be in my “cave” and be with myself. In those moments, I would order food delivery from an app called 方圆食里.  Through this app, you can order from almost all of the Chinese restaurants in Paris. And most of its customer service representatives speak fluent Mandarin. So in the comfort of my own home, I can enjoy 水煑魚, 夫妻肺片 and all kinds of Sichuan delicacies. You can even order bubble tea!

Another one of my favourite things to do is to wander on foot in Paris, especially in the fall when the temperature is perfect. Explore the hidden treasures, without a guidebook or any expectations. I don’t think, I enjoy the moment effortlessly and let life happens.

My most memorable discovery on my long, aimless weekend walks is the Azzedine Alaïa store in the heart of Le Marais. A very unassuming entrance with a basic door bell, this entrance is the gateway to the flagship store of one of the greatest couturiers of our time. Inside the boutique, you will be able to find exclusive items in a large private chamber with a beautiful portrait of the late couturier painted by his good friend, Julian Schnable. This store is also linked to the late designer’s atelier, showroom, museum, mini private hotel and, ultimately, the home where he once lived.

Ludovic Buthiaux – he and I stumbled upon each other when I was wandering at the Galeries Lafayette Champs-Élysées. Originally from the French Riviera, he studied fashion in Paris and was trained at Emanuel Ungaro, Rochas and Irié. He moonlights at the Galeries Lafayette Champs-Elysees on the weekends and during the week he works with his partner on the launch of their very own fashion brand. (@monsieurbuthiaux – Instagram)

Alaïa has been my favourite designer even before I worked in luxury retail for Lane Crawford almost a decade ago. I love his  laser-cut designs and his passion and obsession for new ways to sculpt and elevate the female form. I love how he relentlessly pursued and expressed his own beliefs of what defined fashion. He presented his collections at his own space and only held fashion shows when he felt it was the right time (versus following the schedule of the conventional fashion week). I love his courage in expressly disagreeing with fashion heavyweights like Karl Lagerfeld and Anna Wintour. I adore him for believing in something beautiful and stood his ground.

Stumbling upon this establishment while wandering aimlessly was quite magical. Okay, my definition of wandering aimlessly involves having some preferences. Even when wandering aimlessly, I prefer to be in a safe area and under ideal weather conditions. The idea of wandering is more about being opened to magic, and letting go of expectations.

The notion of “expectations” is a bit limiting — as we can only expect things that we know about.

Take improvisation in dance, for example. It’s a process where the performer spontaneously creates movement. Letting go of all previous habitual movements and allowing the body to explore authentic feelings and inspirations through instinctual, unpredictable and free movements.  Some choreographers allow their dancers to improvise on stage — to be in the moment and let their bodies speak. This can open up all possibilities and allow magical movements and interactions to take place.

A magical tricycle – ran into this colorful character in the middle of Le Marais (the 4th arrondissement)

Perhaps the act of my writing to you today is also result of my own improvisation and wandering.  If someone had said to me 2 years ago when I was still at Apple Inc. that one day I would be living in Paris as a dance student and writing a column for Ming Pao Weekly, I would had probably said, “What happy water are you drinking?”

Yet, here I am – doing exactly all of that.

I believe in magic, the unexpected, the unplanned and the oh-so-beautiful moments in life.

“Love isn’t a decision. It’s a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be much simpler, but much less magical.” 

Trey Parker

The post #SpeakingInDance:Magic appeared first on 明周文化.

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Wake up at 8 am. Eat breakfast. First class starts at 9:30 am.  

Eat lunch around school. Go back to class. Finish at 3:30 pm

Go home. Shower. Cook. Eat. Wash dishes. Sleep.  

Repeat.

About three months into my new life as a dance student in Paris, I was sitting at my dining table, holding up my bowl, when I had a Life of Pi moment. I yelled silently inside of me to the sky — to God. 

A picture from my first solo performance, of my choreography in Jan. 2019. Photo by Tommaso Giuntini, dance photographer (@t0mm1x, Instagram).

“I cannot continue like this. I love dance and Paris. But I also need friends. If I cannot make friends here soon, I will go back to Hong Kong in six months and try to continue dancing there.  It is, however, not my preference.”

I sighed and finished my dinner, washed the dishes and went to bed. 

Yes, I was being melodramatic. There were challenges in switching from sitting at a desk every day to being a full-time dance student. But it was not a life-and-death situation compared to the scenario in Life of Pi. In the 2012 movie by Ang Lee, based on a book of the same name, Pi yells to the sky: “You took my family. You took everything. I surrender. What more do you want?” 

Letting go and surrendering, completely.  

Caught this “we are best-friends-forever and let’s dress to kill” matching outfit ladies. C’est parafit!

I have had to learn to let go. Letting go is way harder than trying to control everything — yet, once you have it, you have it. There is even a dance movement from Martha Graham called “pleading”, which is about surrendering. It is a deep contraction in which you are required to come off from the floor while emptying the energies of the entire body.  

Contemporary dance doyenne Graham has been quoted: “Think of Michelangelo’s Pietà, or that extraordinary Bernini Ecstasy of St Theresa.” It took me seven months to learn this movement.  

Surrendering requires that I still know what I prefer, yet always be ready to deal with an opposite outcome. It is about staying open and trusting, and being on the opposite side of fear. You throw your intentions out there and you wait. You wait by forgetting about it, by being present with yourself and with others.    

I waited — and waited. I kept eating alone and washing dishes. A few months later, a couple of “human parcels” landed outside my door — Ivan and Erwann. 

Ivan is a curly-haired 26-year-old boy from Dalian. He speaks French like a real Chinese Frenchman. He made me sign up with all the dating apps. Occasionally, he would grab my phone and start answering the messages for me — until I deleted all of the apps. He loves coming to my place on Sunday nights and eating my “water and rice” congee. He proclaims that my congee is the best in Paris. Right. I started adding red dates and chestnuts so it is not so bland.  

Taste of France: Home-made petit pâté de Pézenas, a typical pastry from the south of the country, tastes both sweet and salty at the same time.

Erwann used to live in Hong Kong. He is from Brittany, the beautiful region that is near the sea, in the west of France. The region is known for its seafood and architecture. Erwann has proven to be indispensable when I need to deal with the visa office, where only French is spoken. He is also my cultural advisor.  Once, I was talking to him about a strange encounter in Paris. He suddenly put down his knife and fork, looked up seriously and said: “Patsy, in Paris, if you ask a guy you recently met to ‘walk me home’ late at night, it means exactly also, ‘Would you like to see my bedroom?’”  I blushed in disbelief. Okay, maybe it was just me who did not know that. 

Many more “human parcels” in different shapes and sizes continue to roll in after Ivan and Erwann.

I say that these two landed outside my door because both of them, no matter rain or shine, drunk or sober, noon or in the middle of the night, they would always walk me home, to my door. To make sure I get home safely. (And thank you, Jason Ip, my crazy happy friend from Hong Kong, for introducing them to me while visiting Paris.)

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