Dance with Both Hands Free
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Once there was a woman who went to visit her friend. Her friend was a weaver and had been making a beautiful tapestry on her loom. It was woven from beautiful silk threads of many colors. When the weaver saw her friend she exclaimed; "Friend! I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you! What a joyful day. Surely a day for celebration! Please come in and make yourself comfortable, and I will get you something to drink".
The weaver went into the kitchen to get a cup of tamarind tea. Her friend looked around and noticed the silk threads shimmering in the early afternoon light. They were so beautiful!...and she was tempted. She couldn't resist herself. Quickly, she reached over and took one of the bundles of thread and stuck it underneath her arm.
When the weaver returned she noticed that a bundle of thread was missing, and knew that her friend had taken it. She thought for a moment, and devised a plan to get it back. Putting down the cup of tea she said; "Friend, what a joyful day it is today! Please, get up and let's dance." In a tentative voice her friend responded, "yes, let us dance".
The weaver raised both her arms high and began to dance. She smiled as she turned in slow circular motions dancing with joy. Her friend got up, but instead danced with both her arms pressed close to her sides, holding the bundle of thread tightly underneath one of her arms. When the weaver saw this she said; " It is a day for celebration friend, how is it that you dance with your arms that way? Look, dance like me with both your arms raised!" The friend then raised one of her arms, but kept the other pressed tightly against her side. The weaver seeing this insisted and said; "It is such a joyful day, please dance with both arms raised. Look at me. Like this!" The weaver continued to dance, spinning, turning and swaying with joy. The friend looked down and quietly said; "but...ister, I am sorry, this is all that I know of dancing."
...Always be ready to dance with both hands free
A Dialogue on Dancing in Camino Nuevo
Bob... For the past three years my partner Liz and I have offered a storytelling-based program called the Hero's Journey in juvenile detention centers in New Mexico. We are not only partners in work we are partners in life. In the lingo of incarcerated kids, we are a 24/7 couple. (24 hours a day/seven days a week). In our most recent cycle we were faced with a new challenge. Because of other program commitments Liz would not be able to participate. For the first time, I would have to go it alone. Yet in each of the 12 sessions that followed the accumulated knowledge and experience we had together helped me navigate the challenges and obstacles of working in the very difficult environment that is Camino Nuevo, the maximum security facility in the state. It seemed absolutely necessary to have Liz with us for our final session and very modest celebration. We had a truly remarkable day with each of our four classes.
Liz... I loved this story when I first heard it told. It evoked images of my mother many years ago. I thought it would be a perfect story to share with incarcerated teens. It served a twofold purpose. I could use it to share a personal story, always a good way to start, and also to generate a discussion on a theme relevant for the students.
Bob...When Liz told me that this was the story she would tell, I really encouraged her to share the personal associations it brought up for her.
Liz...It's important to share personal stories but I find myself being selective about what stories and how much detail to include. I feel vulnerable. Will the kids respect what I say? Will they listen with compassion, will they laugh? It's a delicate balance and dance.
I told the students how, for over 40 years my mother worked in a sequins factory in New York City. I remember her sitting at her chair near giant spools of shiny, colorful plastic sheets, pulling the sheets of plastic and rolling them onto her machine. She transformed them into the beautiful, shiny pieces of discs that are used on wedding dresses, prom dresses, evening dresses! Every time I'd visit my mother at work I would leave the factory with free tubes of different color glitter. What a joy that was for me!
I also told them how, even though my mother worked for many years in the same factory, she did not have many friends at work. She was a beautiful woman with a lot of grace and a 'big heart'. To me it seemed that her co-workers were envious of her beauty. This envy was metaphorically preventing the full dance of friendship. It didn't seem fair and I felt sad for her.
Bob...Emotions, ideas, judgements, self image, prior experience... so much that we in fact 'know' can lead us to that less than fulfilling state where we say 'this is all I know of life.'
Liz...I had another agenda for sharing this 'personal' story. Since I knew that most of the boys were of Hispanic background, growing up under difficult circumstances, I wanted to illustrate how I, too, was brought up in challenging times. Young Hispanic boys place a high value on their relationship to their mothers. I thought that by telling a story about by own mother we could find common ground.
Bob...I observed the boys watching and listening to Liz with rapt attention. In earlier sessions I'd hinted that she would be with us for the final session. I wanted to create a sense of anticipation. I also wanted them to know that I was a man who had a talented partner who I respected. In past programs, students sometimes expressed amazement that we were able to solve problems and minor communication breakdowns with each other on the spot right in front of them. We get to model a reasonably good relationship, something that very few of these kids witness from their parents.
Within the framework of our overall goals and intentions for the program, our plans are fluid. We have a few core stories that we know will be told, and some tried and true activities, but overly detailed plans can be yet another obstacle.
For example, I had to leave the room at the beginning of the third class to get more donuts from the car. When I'd made my way through the maze of locks and sliding doors again, I walked into the classroom and was surprised to find the teacher who had heard the story in the two previous sessions telling Dance With Both Hands Free instead of Liz.
Liz...As a new group of boys trailed into the classroom I noticed that the teacher was engaged with them. I had asked her if she would tell the story. At first she resisted, but with encouragement from me (and the boys chiming in in the background) she took the challenge. This was an opportunity for her to model taking a positive risk. I was taking a risk, too. I needed to let go of the idea that perhaps the story wouldn't be told in the right way, and in turn that the boys wouldn't get the whole point of the story. I was determined to help her succeed. And she did!
After the telling she engaged in the discussion that followed more so than in the two previous classes:
Did the weaver have other choices? Did she want her friend to be revealed? What was her intention and why did she take such an approach? And how about the friend? How did she feel? What were her choices? Did the weaver get the thread back? The responses were thoughtful and sincere. One boy spoke eloquently about being able to live life in the open and about being perceived as trustworthy.
Bob...I had been only slightly more calculating in my decision to take a risk that day. In planning the session, I wanted to bring in a silly and outrageous story and song, my version of Mama Don't allow made popular by Thatcher Hurd. I do it with my squeezebox. The refrain goes..."We Don't Care What Mama Don't Allow... were going to... .dance...jump on the bed... etc ... anyhow!' Altogether a revolutionary song for a bunch of juvenile delinquents!
Camino is by far the darkest place in the system... dark in spirit, energy, and just plain oppressive with its solid steel remotely operated doors upon doors. It hadn't been an easy three weeks, and every day the energy was different. There's heavy gang mentality, staff that get off on the opportunity to provoke then restrain kids, and the guys are there sometimes for years at a time. You don't hear a lot of laughter or see a lot of smiles. By telling this story I'd be risking making a fool of myself to stony silence. But somehow I felt that I had established enough rapport and trust so that I could get truly silly this last day.
What actually happened? The Joint was Jumping! Never did I expect that some kids would actually get up and start dancing. 'Carlos' was phenomenal. He stood up and danced with me as I played. He could have been a Sufi or a Hassid lost in ecstasy. There were smiles and laughs all around. The principal, secretary, even the correctional officers were peering through the window, agog at the wonder of it all. Later the principal would tell us that for him it was an astonishing experience, acknowledging that for a time the whole place was transformed watching Carlos, and that for a few moments Carlos, who is now 17 and has been incarcerated since 12, was truly free. Yes, this was better than even the Kirov ballet that we saw later that evening. It was truly dancing with both hands free!
Liz...What did we learn? Doug Lipman, speaking as a coach, suggests that we look to the stories we choose to tell for the clue to what it is that we ourselves must learn as storytellers and teachers. Bob and I first met on the dance floor. As partners, teachers and guides we continue to learn to approach each other, our colleagues and students with openness and respect. We are still learning the dance of give and take, of lead and follow, and the lessons of trust and support.
Will you join the dance?
Comments
Dear Bob & Liz--
I can see how the kids in detention would identify with this tale. The woman who committed the theft (and so can't dance freely) reminds me of a bird whose wings have been pionioned and can't fly free. A strong metaphor!
Your essay conveys wonderfully how much the spontaneous playful choices you made arose from a solid basis of experience and real warmth of heart. How lucky those kids are to have you guys as a resource!
Cristy
Posted by Gail Rosen on May 01, 2001 at 16:16:27:
Great story Liz!
I am intrigued by the open ended quality of the story (like the Monkey Mind story in that way). It seems a brave and generous thing to be willing to leave listeners with questions rather than answers.
How do you engage the kids in the conversation? Do they jump right in? Are they ever unwilling to participate? Can you tell us more about how you shape a session and how you close the conversation?
Thanks you both. The work you do is a great gift.
Gail
Posted by Linda Marsella on May 25, 2001 at 06:21:29:
In Reply to: Dancing With Both Hands Free posted by Gail Rosen on May 01, 2001 at 16:16:27:
Regarding your final comments on dance in relationship:
My husband and I took up ballroom dance in our mid-forties, and found it brought all our relationship issues straight to the floor: who's leading? who's supposed to be leading? Etcetera.
After an affair seriously breached the trust in our 25 year marriage, we continued dancing as well as countless hours of marriage counselling - i.e. talk, talk, talk and training in communication. Four years later, I can say that our weekly hour on the dance floor moved us further week by week to reestablishing trust, a project we continue to pursue moment by moment.
An open-ended story is indeed a challenge to absorb. It can't be cubicled. It is still going on.
I also agree with Diane's comment that at any one moment there is one story that I need to tell, the one that speaks to the issue I need to work on. It is grace when it becomes clear which story that is.
Posted by Liz Mangual on May 02, 2001 at 07:56:24:
In Reply to: Dancing With Both Hands Free posted by Gail Rosen on May 01, 2001 at 16:16:27:
: How do you engage the kids in the conversation? Do they jump right in? Are they ever unwilling to participate? Can you tell us more about how you shape a session and how you close the conversation?
Hi Gail, thanks for your comments and questions. I/we rely a lot on spontaneity. Of course we often hope that when we tell a story that the story will be powerful enough to elicit self reflection and then responses from the listeners. But it doesn't always happen that way. We also try to'tune in' to the group's energy as much as possible. Being receptive to the moment plays an important role in knowing how to pose the first question after completing a story. We often have a general sense for what questions we might want to ask with specific stories, but most often surprises arise from the listeners that were not planned and if we're flexible and spontaneous enough we can then acknowledge one person's thoughts and that can then trigger a whole series of responses from others in the group. This is part of what makes having a working partner very rich, because one of us can jump in when the other is busy noticing something else happening in the group. So, partly, it is being ready to catch comments, and acknowledging them, and listening without judgement, and asking if anyone else wants to comment or add to the previous comment. We can usually tell when responses have been exhausted and we wrap up the conversation by summarizing responses from the grouup and then thanking everyone for their contribution. As you must know, kids are not different from adults in that they too like to be aknowledged and appreciated for their contributions. Working in this way is definately a dance, and a fun one too!
Best, Liz.
Posted by bob kanegis on May 01, 2001 at 19:59:58:
In Reply to: Dancing With Both Hands Free posted by Gail Rosen on May 01, 2001 at 16:16:27:
It seems a brave and generous thing to be willing to leave listeners with questions rather than answers.
: Gail
This is Bob following up on just one of your comments and questions... with a story!
An ernest Talmud student fell sick with his studies and exertions. He was wasting away and his parents and friends were concerned for his very life. So they sent him to a 'wonder working'rabbi in a distant town. When the student presented himself he told the rabbi how much passionate he was to learn the meaning of life. At these words the rabbi gave him a smarting blow. The student was bewildered. "Rabbi... why did you hit me?
"Why?" Because you have such a beatiful question and you would throw it away for an answer!"
(Maybe someone can help with an attribution. It's one of these stories that's just floating around in my head)
Posted by Laura Simms on May 16, 2001 at 12:39:32:
In Reply to: Re: Dancing With Both Hands Free posted by bob kanegis on May 01, 2001 at 19:59:58:
There is something so mischeivous and refreshing to read responses, that are about not answering a question. for me this is thinking in a story fashion and reminds me of a conversation with Jean Sviadac, who was a mentor of mine for many years. Jean was a student of both Gurdjieff and Monsiour Hampate Ba, (a Unesco diplomant who told stories)
He once asked me, "What is a Tale?' I engaged in a long answer and he ignored me. Later I asked him, after recovering from wondering what I had done wrong, etc.. "Monsieur, what is a tale?" He said, "It depends who hears it."
Posted by Larry Lee on August 20, 2001 at 02:40:58:
In Reply to: Re: Dancing With Both Hands Free posted by Laura Simms on May 16, 2001 at 12:39:32:
: Hi Laura
I absolutely agree re: the listener is always the context for the tale being meaningful as such. Initial identification with the thief as the lessons focus can easily give way to an entirely different focus when the "friend" is seen as vindicive in attempting to expose the thief's guilt and shame. Tellers attempting to guide conversation around the tale might do well to acknowledge the humanness in desire and thieving contrasted with the "higher" moral position of exposing the deed to the detriment of the thief. Huamn desire and longing do not excuse careless acts, neither are they cause for diminishment or marginalization of the person committing the careless act. I wonder if passion to this degree can actually be celebrated rather than condemned. Perhaps the difference between compassion and short-sightedness can be a standard of how we see a person as different from their actions.
: there is something so mischeivous and refreshing to
: read responses, that are about not answering a question.
: for me this is thinking in a story fashion and reminds me of
: a conversation with Jean Sviadac, who was a mentor of mine for many years.
: Jean was a student of both Gurdjieff and Monsiour Hampate Ba, (a Unesco diplomant who told stories)
: He once asked me, "What is a Tale?'
: I engaged in a long answer and he ignored me.
: Later I asked him, after recovering from wondering what I had done wrong, etc..
: "Monsieur, what is a tale?"
: He said, "It depends who hears it."
Posted by K Mathes on May 03, 2001 at 17:25:11:
In Reply to: Re: Dancing With Both Hands Free posted by bob kanegis on May 01, 2001 at 19:59:58:
Well Bob, I can't offer an attribution for the student of the Talmud, but I did read a collection of speeches/essays by Leo Buscaglia. Leo says when he began studying with a Zen master he couldn't resist telling him about his own theories & ideas about people and life ~ all that he earned in his own work. Suddenly the Zen Master turns to him and slaps him hard on the mouth saying, "Do not walk in my head with your dirty feet."
I suspect Leo "lifted" this anecdote, but in any case, it is compelling ;)
Posted by Leah on May 27, 2001 at 01:17:30:
I was so enthralled with your reflections on telling this story to the young people who are in the detention centre that I was moved to comment. Although not incarcerated in a prison, I have been trapped in my body for many years due to arrested development as an 11 year old. I have found my way back to my body at the age of 55. Much of last year was spent reading the Storytelling Listserv...it was healing and soothing. I began to tell stories to people I worked with. In addition, both traditional and alternative therapies have helped unfold my life, but a creative free movement/dance class has really opened me up.Guess I was ready for it!! I can dance like no one is watching now! We adults dance in a dimly lit room with downcast eyes as each one of us moves in our own unique way. Storytelling and dance...what a healing transformation has been possible for me. I wish to confirm your work with your young "dark" group...may stories and dance shed some shards of light in their lives.
Posted by Larry Lee on August 20, 2001 at 02:11:12:
I will be making this entry in several parts to avoid being booted off for not posting early enough; please bear with me.
Healing, making whole, might simply be the action of clearing a blocked channel for enhanced communication between people thereby encouraging natural human communion. Human beings often make complex that which is simple. Communication might be as simple as a dynamically inclusive use of "please", "yes", "no" and "thank you". Second guessing another's response to a possible request, a "please", can result in confusion and chaos......
Posted by Larry Lee on August 20, 2001 at 02:15:05:
When I don't make a request based on how I think another will reply, I diminish both my own and the other's freedom of choice in a given matter. I give up my choice to experience the other beyond the reason I create for how I believe the other will respond to my request, their "yes" or their "no". I do this by taking away the others choice to answer at all. I become a theif of our freedom of choice to be in authentic relation with one another, the resultant being my experience of guilt (I did something "bad"/I did something I should not have done) and shame (I am "bad"/I should not be the way I am)....
Posted by Larry Lee on August 20, 2001 at 02:17:32:
While thieving in and of it self is neither right or wrong, its resultants are well documented agents within the realm of physical, mental and spiritual dis-ease. Manifest dis-ease becomes the active acknowledgement of the pretense of human communion/communication, the ailing "thank you" among self-proclaimed vicitims experiencing betrayal, isolation, anger, fear and lack....
Posted by Larry Leel on August 20, 2001 at 02:25:10:
At first glance, the woman visiting might appear to be more clearly the thief in the tale. I wonder if a closer look might reveal a more powerful example of human pretense and deciet in the character of the "friend" who instead of simply reqesting an answer regarding the whereabouts of a missing bit of silk thread, fiendishly plots to expose the woman by enhancing her guilt and shame. Tellers using this tale might consider the context of the listener's experience as right at some basic level. The woman's perspective of mortification at being caught in the thieving act begs us to question her "friend's" righteousness in wanting to teach her the story's apparent lesson. As with all profound tales, this one goes much deeper than meets the eye. Much like life!
Posted by Gail Rosen on August 21, 2001 at 09:09:52:
In Reply to: Dance with Both Hands Free posted by Larry Leel on August 20, 2001 at 02:25:10:
Larry, your comments make me look at this story very differently. Thank you.
While reading them, I thought of two stories. I have never actually told either of them, but this context encourages me. Perhaps I will someday.
The first is in response to your comment about assuming how someone will respond. It is about a man who wants to borrow something from a neighbor. As he walks to his friend's house, he imagines the conversation -- how he asks for what he needs. He imagines that his friend refuses him. He imagines the argument that follows. This scenario grows in his own mind and when he reaches his friend's door, instead of asking for the item he needs, he says with great anger "Never mind! I would never borrow anything from you anyway." (I don't have a source for this story. I would appreciate anyone who can tell me where it is from.)
The second story responds to the statement you made about thieving being neither right nor wrong. At first, I was ready to jump to disagree. Then I remembered this story. It is a story within a story in Diane Wolkstein's chapter The Seer of Lublin's Shirt in Peninnah Schram's book Chosen Tales. I think I've also read it elsewhere.
There is a thief who was a master theif. He became weathy and joined the synagogue. He didn't think he should steal anymore and he became poor. A rich man in the congregation send the thief money and supports him from then on. Years later, they both die. As the rich man is standing at the gates of heaven, his sins are weighed and he knows he has no chance. Then there is a breeze and he finds himself in paradise. What happened? He is told "Your friend, the theif, stole your sins."
Sometimes it seems that "healing" involves taking pain or loss and elevating it by finding meaning. And story has tremendous power to help us do just that.
Posted by Larry Lee on August 21, 2001 at 19:34:35:
In Reply to: Re: Dance with Both Hands Free posted by Gail Rosen on August 21, 2001 at 09:09:52:
Gail, thank you for your thoughtful reply. I'm always delighted when people can present their ideas and concerns in the form of a story. I agree with you; meaning is the creations we manifest in our efforts to transcend limits of space and time. Stories, rituals, and large buildings often fit the bill for creations that help us experience that we are more than what we can imagine, that after we die something that is timeless about us will live on and on.
: Larry, your comments make me look at this story very differently. Thank you.
: While reading them, I thought of two stories. I have never actually told either of them, but this context encourages me. Perhaps I will someday.
: The first is in response to your comment about assuming how someone will respond. It is about a man who wants to borrow something from a neighbor. As he walks to his friend's house, he imagines the conversation -- how he asks for what he needs. He imagines that his friend refuses him. He imagines the argument that follows. This scenario grows in his own mind and when he reaches his friend's door, instead of asking for the item he needs, he says with great anger "Never mind! I would never borrow anything from you anyway." (I don't have a source for this story. I would appreciate anyone who can tell me where it is from.)
: The second story responds to the statement you made about thieving being neither right nor wrong. At first, I was ready to jump to disagree. Then I remembered this story. It is a story within a story in Diane Wolkstein's chapter The Seer of Lublin's Shirt in Peninnah Schram's book Chosen Tales. I think I've also read it elsewhere.
: There is a thief who was a master theif. He became weathy and joined the synagogue. He didn't think he should steal anymore and he became poor. A rich man in the congregation send the thief money and supports him from then on. Years later, they both die. As the rich man is standing at the gates of heaven, his sins are weighed and he knows he has no chance. Then there is a breeze and he finds himself in paradise. What happened? He is told "Your friend, the theif, stole your sins."
: Sometimes it seems that "healing" involves taking pain or loss and elevating it by finding meaning. And story has tremendous power to help us do just that.
Posted by ashley on January 23, 2002 at 16:08:05:
The story was a great story.It was the best story ever.
I like our reading group.
YOUR THE BEST
! FRIEND!
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