More changes for My Tango Diaries and Leona Training

As you may or may not have noticed, the URL for this blog, and for Leona Training for Dancers, has changed to and respectively. It was long overdue, I was just nervous that the transfer would not go well. Mostly it went fine but there have been a couple of hiccups. (And if you happened to be reading this blog while I was going through my experimentation phase of "Let's try this . . . and this . . . and maybe this other thing," with the layout and template - thanks for your patience.)

The biggest hiccup is that my extensive, and up-to-date, Tango Blog List got completely blown away. It's not even in the backup, which I don't understand, but there we are.  I need help from you dear readers to try to build it again. If you can, please send me your own tango blog links, and the blogs that you like so that I can compile the blog roll again.  Meanwhile, above there is a tab for my Tango Blogs page, but the page is not as current as my other list was. It also isn't arranged according to most recent update. I promise to get the list built as quickly as possible.

The best my phone camera could do, more pictures coming soon.

In other news, I am back to renting space at what used to be McPhail Dance Studio and is now home to Austin Belly Dance. Dancer/teacher Bahaia has done beautiful things with the space. I hope to use it for holding stability, posture and training sessions, maybe some small classes and foot care for dancers clinics, as well as one-on-one consultations as soon as my schedule frees up again. I'm getting input from some friends and dancers on the space to see if it might be appropriate for future (tango) practicas as well. The lighting and sound system have all been updated and are fabulous, so I'm excited to see if this works out.

I'd also like to say thank you to everyone who's been giving me such great advice and feedback. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the recommendations, contacts and suggestions!

Where you found me

“Five minutes are enough to dream a whole life, that is how relative time is.” ― Mario Benedetti.

Where did you find me?

I laugh a little, my glasses are where you found me.
The lights are still low as poor-sighted dancers
search for their spectacles.
Right now I cannot see a thing.

When you found me, what was I doing?
What was I thinking, so long ago,
5 minutes ago,
1 year ago,
5 years ago,
when you found me?
I can't remember anymore.
I am remembering everything wrong,
everything colored by the music and soft sighs.

Your arm is gone,
your voice is gone,
hazy-visioned and disoriented,
I try to return to the place I was.

When I think I am there,
I realize, blinking slowly,
hands reaching toward empty space,
it is no longer there.
It has moved on without me.
That place where you found me.
And with it,
the woman you found there.

The moon has coated me with dust . . .

This isn't a tango post, but it is a music post - and I think somewhat applicable.

It is an almost miraculous thing when a piece of music can speak to us in different ways, in different times in our lives. Sometimes it's a matter of maturity and understanding the depth of a piece over time - but sometimes it's more. The story in the music is so big and yet so personal all at the same. So wherever you are, the song is there, singing to your story. Showing you pieces of your own world you may not have put together yet.

Pheobe Snow's "Isn't it a Shame," off of her Second Childhood album, is that kind of song for me, and for my mom. I've written before how my mom and I found much common ground through her music.   When we couldn't find the words to tell each other, Pheobe let us both tell our stories to each other, without having to explain.

Everyone reads "Isn't a Shame" differently. To some it is very sad, almost pessimistic. Like the Tower card in a tarot deck - to some it means failure or ruin. To others, and to me, it symbolizes the castles of cards we make with our ego. The illusions we indulge. Our weaknesses we've tried to disguise as strengths.

Who is she talking to?  Who knows? When I hear it tell my story, it is always someone different. Sometimes "Can you help me" really means, "can you forgive me?"  Other times it has meant that I cannot find the strength to dig out on my own.

Do you have songs that have spoken to you at different points in your life?

Isn't it a shame
Not to have something to believe in
To have to cry in public places
Frightened by children making faces

Travel folders call you
So do your memories
But the statistics seem to stall you
And they whisper it's a tease . . .

The moon has coated me with dust
I must look a sight
I left my mind out in the rain
So please don't be polite

Can you help me
Can you help me...later on tonight
Can you help me
Can you help me
At least until it's light...

Tonight I won't be drinking
I'll love you anyway (ay ay ay)
I will be very busy thinking
But I can still come out and play

It's more than medication
It is all that's on the shelf
The simple fact that I'm alive and well
And I'm laughing at myself

My casual friends were casualties
My foes were just faux pas
but I still have that second chance
And I'm listening for applause

Look at us poor souls down here
Tryin' to turn an honest trick
Every second season seems we think
We're tired or sick

Can you help us, can you help us
Something's got to click
Can you help me, can you help me
To sing another lick....

Unfortunately I could not find this one online anywhere. You can hear a sample of it here, and of course buy the mp3.

Picture above, courtesy of Wikipedia. Phoebe Snow (1950-2011)