One Year Later

She turned 18.

She took her best friends out to dinner to celebrate.  She told me not to come.  When I saw her this weekend, she curled into me, patted my arm, and kept asking me if I had missed her.  

I wished you were at my birthday!  I've missed you so much!  I'm so glad you are here!

Huh?  But you told me not to come.

I know!  I had a great birthday, but still, I miss you!  Do you miss me?

On Saturday she took us to her favourite Asian restaurant in this town.

Kibou Sushi, 18 Regent Street

 She doesn't eat here often.  She tells me it's too expensive for her.  I order two platters of sushi, vegetable gyozas for us to share, and befriend the owner.  I'm really proud of my daughter's good sense.

Too soon, the weekend is over.  Once again, it's time to part.

Will you be ok, Mom?  Mom, can you write a letter to sort out Saturday?  Mom, I'm so tired, please get rid of school on Saturday!  What time is your train, Mom?  Take care, ok, Mom?

Mom, try and eat more, ok?  Mom, are you eating more than one meal a day? Mom, you're very skinny!  Mom, do you realise you either always look like a farmer, or you look like a movie star?  Mom, don't inject your face with botox ok?!!

Mom, are you really wearing that?  Oh never mind!  My friends think you are like so stylish, ok, I think this outfit works!

Mom?  Can I have your black cardigan and can I have... as I can't fit into your shoes?!  Mom, can you buy me a birthday present?  Mom, I don't want to walk Bruno!  

Mom?  I don't want to go back to school... It's so hard, I'm so tired!

Mom, can you write a letter to my school, please?  

(Hmm.  Repetition observed.  She believes my writing can move mountains, because once I wrote a thesis and got her out of compulsory primary school education in Singapore.)

(background- school)

Mom, I'm 18 now, aren't I old?  I feel so different...

Mom, don't forget about me, ok?  Mom?  I love you, Mom.

More Learning

I felt my body crumble the very moment I stepped back to civilisation.

I wonder if I have just been riding on adrenaline out in Nowhere.

Nowhere will be remembered as one of the key moments in my learning process.

The path towards enlightenment is long, but I am in no hurry.  I want to keep an open mind, and an alert body. 

One morning, I made a new friend.  

He came bounding up to me, and accompanied me to Camp.  His presence pleased me. 

I watched him discover, dig, dodge under a fence.  

I really want to be as curious for as long as I have health.

So this morning, I excitedly went to Beginner French!  Bonjour!  Je m'appelle Tammy.  Je suis parle Anglais, un peu Chinois, un peu Japnoise, un peu Espagnol, et un peu Allemand.

Pardon?  Non, non!  I'm not multi-lingual.  Truth is, I just speak enough Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, and German to ensure that in any of the above cities (or restaurants), I am able to order, wine.

Port de Bras

Port de Bras is the passage/carriage of the arms in ballet.

As a dancer, I have worked bloody hard on my arms, because it is often the torso that the audience (un-knowingly) looks at.  The torso when well-trained, has fluidity, immense grace, a sense of expressive-ness that even a person not versed in dance, can relate to.  As I have terrible feet, I distract on stage, with the upper half of my body.

I'm really proud of my port de bras  God gave me flat feet, but He also gave me long, sinewy arms, a neck with length and broad shoulders.  I can convey heartbreak, hope, anger, fear with my arms.  I can twist, turn, bend, reach, lift.  On stage, every movement I make with my hands, my arms, no matter how insignificant, is done with purpose and thought.

So for the last ten years struggling with riding, it has been extremely frustrating to not know what to do with my arms and hands.

For ten years, I have been told- Lower your hands!  Lift your elbows!  Lower your elbows!  Lift your hands!  Pretend that you are carrying a tea tray and don't spill anything! Bend your elbows!

The one instruction I detest most?  Play with the bit!  Play with the bit!

When I teach dance, I tell my students to think of the arms beginning deep in the back, and then fanning out, like wings of a bird of prey.  I say, think of the energy reaching beyond your fingertips.  To make them laugh, because laughter is so needed in effective learning, I say, Birds of prey please, not a domestic bird!

And then I say as what one teacher once said to me- Hold your arms, and they will hold you.

***

Day 3 at Camp Nowhere, the World Renown Teacher sticks her fingers in my armpit, deep into my back.  She places her hands beneath both my elbows and tells me to press down against her.  Then the assistant teacher places her hands on the top of my fists that are wrapped around the reins.  I am asked to push up against her.  And lastly, to move my fists forward, to feel as if I am feeling the horse's mouth, and to resist against an imaginary wall.

I can feel my entire back engaged in the above instruction.  Everything is making more sense, because now, my arms, finally have a place to go.;'

Philosophically, I get it now.  It is not about riding light and bright.  It is about moving with an inner strength that can propel a more powerful animal forward from beneath you with the lightest of touch, as well as curtail its unexpected blast of energy.

The "bearing down" is like a Graham contraction.  It is about oppositional forces, isolating the muscles to work the body as a whole.


I am asked for feedback.  What strikes you most about yesterday, today?  What are you feeling?

I say I need more time, to practise, practise, practise. 

I say, I feel like a martial artist.

I say, I feel I am going off to battle.

In my mind, going around in circles with the little horse, I no longer think what I used to think- shoulders, hips, ankles in one line.  Instead, now I think of Bruce Lee, and try and hold my body, like his.

photo credit-  Googled.

Camp Nowhere

I'm at Camp, in the middle of nowhere.

Right before I got here, I got a little scared.  I wished Equs Anonymous was here with me.

If we were together, we would watch each other's back, cheer each other on. 

Camp begins at 7:30am.  Those of us who do not have our own horses go to the field to catch the horses we've been assigned.  All through the day, there are individual, group lessons, and lectures.  I am also responsible for the care of the horse assigned to me.  So at some point, I shovel poop.

During Camp Orientation, the World Renown Teacher who works with Olympians asked us to comment on our riding.  I told the teacher- Please assign me a small, calm horse.

Chico, my small, calm horse.  Thank you, God!

Today, my body is in shock.  Everything I have learnt about riding has to be erased from muscle memory.  The teacher has a completely different approach.  She teaches biomechanics, using physics and biology, to break the technique of riding down.  She terms it, Riding With Your Mind.

My body is in so much kinesthetic shock, that by lunch time I feel ill.  By dinner, I have a fever and a cold.  

Twice in my life, I have felt this way before; when I first began studying modern dance in the United States, and then later in New York City, studying Nikolais technique.  It's kind of like learning a new spoken language; your tongue and brain get all twisted, and you think, my God, I can't speak!

The Teacher's assistants hover around, and when she is too busy, they put their hands on me to move my limbs, my pubic bone to the correct place.  I learn new concepts- bearing down, light feet, thighs at 45 degree angles.

Bear down, Tammy, bear down.  Rise to the top of the arc, and really land.  Bear down, feet light.  Bear down.

My pelvis feels heavy, and tank-like.  My core muscles are contracted and pushing down.  There is a feeling of harnessing one'e energy and breath into a ball-like shape.  There is a balance between keeping this shape pliable and yet firm, I still have not figured out.

Bear down, Tammy, bear down- she calls out each time we pass her.

Then my body remembers.  The last time I bore down?  I birthed a 3.75kg baby.

Lululemon, The Crown and Two Chairmen

Lululemon at 19-20 Long Acre was an unbelievable find- a mecca of American service and hospitality!

Hello my name is___!  Let me know if you need any help!

Do you do yoga?  Would you like to join our complimentary class on Sundays?

Excellent.  All delivered in English that I actually speak as well!

Bruno and I zipped in and zipped right out in 15 minutes.

***

Sunday is also a good day to catch up with friends, especially over a Sunday Roast.  Bruno gets the meat, while I enjoy the Yorkshire pudding, potatoes and vegetables on the side.  One of the pubs I quite like meeting K at is, The Crown and Two Chairmen, 31-33 Dean Street, in Soho.

I like it because it has a very laid-back, cosy vibe.  The food is straightforward and reasonably priced for Soho.  I also like it because of all the places we've dined at, this pub truly takes dog-friendly to a whole new level.

 No one bothers us for instance, if Bruno momentarily prefers the table to my lap.

And best of all, Max is in residence!

Tea for Two

Trying to recover from last night's P.A.R.T.Y, I decided to take the hung-over Bruno, for tea.

Hanging his head!

I still don't always say, trousers, nor trainers.  I am however, now adopting the very British tradition of afternoon tea.  Doesn't really matter that I don't eat scones, have a sweet tooth, nor even really drink, tea.  For a few more pounds anyway, champagne is served.  

As tea is unfamiliar territory, I made a few calls to figure out where I could bring Bruno.  I spoke to some very friendly staff at the Blakes Hotel, who helped with a reservation.

What a brilliant idea tea at Blakes turned out to be!  

It's my first time walking this far west on Old Brompton Road.  When I turned onto Roland Gardens and saw the black-colored building, I felt very pleased.

I've been thinking of re-decorating using shades of black.  So when I was shown our table in a courtyard dressed so stylishly in black and green, I felt even more pleased with our tea venue.

Mirrors in the garden, potted plants of varying heights, fat grey cushions against black rod iron seating- yummy!

Bruno and I are even colour-coordinated with the garden!

 Time slows...

I just sit, drink in the peaceful surrounds, admire Anouska Hempel's design.  The food is a little forgettable, but service is impeccable and the ambience healing.

Then our reverie is broken by a young Thai tourist, who asks very politely, if he could take a picture of us.  Because he was polite and non-creepy, I did not disagree.

Photo Credit-  Young Thai Tourist

Blakes, 33 Roland Gardens

Of Visual Men

One of the nicer things I've discovered about living in London is, unlike LA or NYC, good friends from all over the world, keep passing through.

Mom at Easter

YL, late spring

Jimmy, early summer

 On Monday, we met Sugar and Spice for an impromptu lunch in Islington, then went to Shoreditch.
(The Fish & Chips Store, 189 Upper Street, is dog-friendly.)

Often Spice feels very familiar as he reminds me so much of Jon.

 They have the same height, the same gentleness, the same old-world manners.  They are also both intensely private men.  So when he left, I felt briefly, a sharp sadness, and a longing to be held.

HELD.

But while walking around Shoreditch, for some reason,

Spice reminded me too much of my friend, Eric.

photo credit-  E Nakamura

   The same brisk energy, the all consuming curiosity.  Nothing escapes his eye, their eyes.

 They are both very visual men.  Everything they see, they encounter, becomes a possibility for something else- a magazine, a painting, a picture, a film, a new restaurant.

photo credit-  E Nakamura

Because of his eye, his interests, and just the way he is, Eric without too much conscious thought, built an empire.

photo credit-  Inter Trend Communications

And always when I think of Eric,

photo credit-  Kiyoshi Nakazawa

I think of my brother.

photo credit-  S Wong

For the first man I experienced brimming with that sort of visual sensitivities, is my brother.

You can't put a finger on artistry.  You can grow it through hard work, but there is nothing to grow, if at first, God didn't give you, The Eye.

My brother is so nonchalant about being talented.  He tells me, he is very lazy.  Yet, I still see glimpses of the artist he ignores.  It's the way he photographs his family;

photo credit-   S Wong

photo credit-  S Wong

it's what he's engraved on his body.

photo credit-  Tina/S Wong