hoopdance

Three afternoons a week, under the leafy trees of North Berkeley's Cedar-Rose Park, I spin energy out of my navel, into a green-gold circle of joy.

I hoopdance.

I fell into it completely by accident. A couple of months ago, I went to the park to write in the late afternoon sunshine. Across from the bench I chose were three women hooping. Utterly beautiful and compelling in their play. I pulled my attention back to my assigned writing exercise. Then, when I was done, I rewarded myself by going up as close as I could to the hoopers, without being intrusive, to watch. The most experienced woman said:

You wanna try?

So I did. It felt more natural than any other dance form has ever felt to me. My hips knew the song. My joints were instantly juicy.


I can make you a hoop, said Jan, the group leader.

That was two months ago.

Now, I hoop daily.

Take classes to learn new moves.

Sneak Youtube hoop-surf breaks.

Research and test hoops to take on the road with me.

Imagine the whole of my next show structured around hoops.

Constantly find new Metaphors For Life in hoopdance.

And three afternoons a week, under the spreading trees of Cedar-Rose Park, I spin joy out of my navel, into a whirling green-gold circle of energy.

You can join us. 3pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, 2pm on Sunday.