Release.

Releasing into knee hooping.

I’ve started learning from an arse-kicking set of tutorials over at Hoop City. The series is called “Waves” and it’s taught by a famous hooper called Brecken Rivara.

I describe the tutorials as arse-kicking because they are unlike anything I’ve learned in hooping before. They are, as the name suggests, full of waves, wobbly moves and twists and melting from one plane to another. I tend towards the big, energetic moves, like throws and tosses; so I’m taking Brecken’s classes to challenge myself. And because I adore her hooping, and if I could take a class with her in person one day it would be a dream come true.

If you are not familiar with Brecken, here is one of my favourite examples of her extraordinary dancing:

In these tutorials, Brecken often talks about the call and response nature of her moves. How the hooper begins the move, then has to release control and let the hoop take over to complete the move. 

Her comments bounced around in my head for a while, as things sometimes do. And then I realised that I’ve already encountered many hooping occasions when I, or my students, have had to RELEASE to make any progress. In my classes, some of my best students have a tendency to overthink new moves. They are focused on putting their hand there and turning the hoop there, and they must control every step of the hoop’s journey. Consequently the move they’re trying to do evades them. Because sometimes all they need to do is starting the hoop moving and let the hoop do the rest of the work.

“Don’t overthink it!” is something my students hear me say a lot.

I often need to take my own advice. Knee hooping is a great example of this. It’s not a difficult move but for some reason I found it impossible. Every day for the best part of a year  I would strain and struggle with knee hooping. My practice was certainly consistent – the hoop dropped to the ground every time! Then one evening in March while John and I were watching a football match on television I stood up to stretch, picked up a hoop, and threw it straight onto my knees. It took a few minutes for me to realise I was knee hooping.

These days, when I’m struggling with a move, I will work on it for a while then put it aside and come back to it later. Maybe a month or two later ... and it's amazing how releasing the need to nail that move, right now, can bring success. A word needs to be invented for that magic moment when you stop straining and allow the move to happen. That moment when you stop wondering, “Am I doing it right?” and realise, “Ah-ha, that’s it!” It’s a wonderful moment.

I'm not saying you shouldn't work to get things right. But there is such a thing as trying too hard, and the trick is knowing when to push through and when to release.

I’m sure there’s a life metaphor in all this :-)

Happy hooping,
Anne-Marie 

Adventures in hoop making.

These are the hoops that Anne-Marie made. Well, a few of them.

Not long after I began teaching, I started to think about making hoops. I expect a lot of hoop teachers have these thoughts. My first class had ordered their hoops online from a company I recommended - because I'd used their hoops as a beginner myself and found them good - but this time they weren't good. My students' hoops didn't actually fall apart, but they came close to it.

There are a couple of hoop-makers in New Zealand but none of them sell hoops I consider suitable for beginners. [You can read my post about choosing a beginner hoop here.] With a tiny population and hooping still very much a fringe past-time here in New Zealand, there's not much on offer. The hoop situation was starting to look rather difficult for my students ... and that's when I wondered, "Could I make my own hoops?"

Turns out, it's not that easy to make hoops in New Zealand either. I read with envy tales American hooping bloggers tell of going down to their local hardware store and coming back loaded up with HDPE, connectors, deco tape and gaffer tape. That is not the universe I inhabit. I must have clocked up hundreds of hours on the internet, researching the right materials and how to get them to my door as cheaply as possible.

Because, you know, I can order anything I want online but boy do those American companies charge to post anything to New Zealand. And I'd like to offer at this point a brickbat to the Australian company that wanted to charge me A$45 to send one roll of deco tape. That is definitely not an example of Anzac spirit from our trans-Tasman cousins!

Any way, I am at last making progress. I have wonderful suppliers of wonderful tape. I have connectors. Pipe has been something of trial and error. The first material I used was lovely to hoop with but the hoops would not keep their shape. Now I'm experimenting with something more rigid that is holding its shape better. My more experienced students have been test-driving this new material, and they like it.

Hoop-making does put me in some funny situations, though. Last weekend I went to watch John play football and I was chatting on the sidelines with one of his best mates, who is a plumber. So he knows a bit about pipe. Never did I imagine myself having a 20-minute discussion on the pros and cons of alkathene versus blueline MDPE, but that is what happened.

"Geez, girl, you know what you're talking about!" said John's mate, with a grin.

I love making hoops. It's a really satisfying feeling to finish taping a hoop and look at this beautiful thing that I have made. I love seeing the delight on someone's face when I hand them the hoop I've made just for them. [I've sold 14 hoops in two months, which isn't a bad start.] And it's fantastic to be earning a little bit of extra money to supplement my family's slender income.

Teaching versus practice.

Sarah practising a new move during a break in class.

I've written before about my love of teaching hoopdance. I find teaching deeply satisfying. I love the delight and astonishment on a new student's face when she realises she can get that hoop spinning around her waist. I love the laughing and joking that accompanies my intermediate class. Some of my students have become good friends.

But I've realised I've fallen into what must be a common trap for teachers of all stripes: my teaching is threatening to swamp my own practice.

It seems like a long time since I had an intense hoop session on my own - so much of my hoop time now is taken up with teaching, or preparing for classes. [I've also started making and selling my own hoops, but more on that another day.] This term, I have classes on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, and the past few weeks I've also had Saturday morning classes. This wouldn't be so bad if I was hooping full-time. But I'm not. I have a full-time job and a family who also need my time and energy.

I could, I suppose, allow myself to focus solely on my teaching, but I don't want to do that. It's important but it's more important that I keep my own practice going. I began hooping for the love of it, and it will always be my first love. Besides, how can I expect my students to learn and grow if I'm not learning and growing myself?

I've decided to cut back one class next term. And I'm saving up to rejoin the gym - having a dedicated space in which to concentrate solely on hooping was fantastic for me last year. I'm also fitting in practice where and when I can. I've started going to my classes half an hour early so I can practise before my students arrive. Sometimes I hoop while I'm watching television. Every little bit helps.

Meet Monty.

All my life I’ve wanted my own dog, the way some women want their own child.

I grew up with dogs – when I was a child my family had an Australian terrier named Syd and a beagle named Josh. But by my early teens they were both gone, and ever since then there’s been a doggie-shaped hole in my heart.

Until a couple of years ago, my lifestyle was too transient to allow me to have a dog. I have lots of canine friends, and I love them. But it’s not the same as having my own dog, one who’s there when I get up every morning and when I come home from work in the evening, who depends on me for food, walks, cuddles and visits to the vet.

John and Sona and I had been discussing adopting a dog for a while. John had even built a fence to make our property secure for a dog. But we had made no definite moves towards getting ourselves a dog until one evening I received a text message from my dog-loving friend Steve, suggesting we get ourselves down to the local pound and take a look at the male west highland terrier there.

And that’s where we found Monty. He looked like this:

He had been horribly neglected and abused. He was filthy, skinny, infested with fleas and worms. But he sat in his cage and quietly wagged his tail whenever anyone went near. He had bright, intelligent eyes and a wet button of a nose. Despite his awful condition I found him irresistible. 

After a week, we were allowed to take Monty home with us. We gave him a bath and took him to the vet, who pronounced him to be in good health apart from the obvious. He needed to put on a lot of weight - he was just over half the weight he should have been - but the only real concern the vet had about Monty was a heart murmur.

Monty’s been with us for a month now, and we can barely remember life without him. We’re all besotted with him and he has to put up with being cuddled constantly [fortunately he has a high tolerance for cuddling]. The psychological scars he had from his previous life seem to be wearing off.

He recently had another vet visit; his heart murmur is gone and he’s put on 400g [he needs at least another kilo before he’s approaching a healthy weight].

Looking at him now, you would not believe just a month ago he was a scared, timid, lethargic dog who cringed at any unexpected move or noise. He’s now bouncy, energetic and sweet-natured … he loves to beat up his toy bunny, play with his doggie friends Oscar and Zella and snuggle in bed between John and I. My days always start off with a giggle when he gallops down the hall ahead of me, snorting enthusiastically because he knows it’s nearly breakfast time.

Thank you, Monty, for making me the happiest dog-mama in the world.



And thank you for being such excellent hooping company!!

One year of hooping.

Teaching a community hooping class at Moutoa Gardens as part of La Fiesta women's festival

Photo credit: Aydie Holland

This week marks one year since I began hooping. Like all significant events that happen in our lives, I can remember in great detail the moment I became a hooper.

I had ordered a hoop online after reading about hoopdance on several blogs. It seemed strange to me that grown women would use a hula hoop - but the idea intrigued me, too. At the time I was trying to find an exercise routine that I could stick too. I enjoyed swimming and yoga but found it hard to motivate myself to actually do them. I also felt ground down by my job and wanted some passion in my life.

One day a woman whose blog I regularly read posted an entry about the most epic hooping video of all time. I watched the video, and immediately ordered myself a hoop. Oh, how I wanted to dance, to feel that joy. But at the same time I was afraid my hoop would languish in a corner, gathering dust - like every other exercise equipment I'd bought.

The first day my hoop arrived, I hooped all day long. I was on leave from work and spent several days going through the instructional DVD that had come with the hoop. Something about the rhythmic movement of the hoop had me hooked from the first moment. And I've been hooked ever since.

It would be fair to say hooping has changed my life. I have a new way of praying, new friends, a new wardrobe [all clothes I buy must now be hoop-friendly], a new perspective on my physical self [my body is a miracle, with out it I wouldn't be able to hoop], a new self-confidence. Teaching hoop has brought me joy. Making hoops has satisfied my artistic side. I've never been the sort of person with a strong determination, but when it comes to hooping I am really driven to be the best I can.

While hooping did not prevent a bout of depression, it brought me hope and joy in the midst of that depression. And for the first time that I can remember, I went an entire year without catching a cold.

I am so grateful to God for bringing hooping into my life. I wonder what my second year of hooping will bring?