NOTES FROM THE FIELD: Imagine That!

I've never been shy about using my imagination. I love giving it a workout as much as I love feeling my quads burn after a nice long cardio session on the stairmaster. I love imagining what the characaters in the tales I tell look like, sound like, move like. I walk down the street dreaming up ways to entertain the kids in the hospital, special gifts for my husband and friends, ways to indulge in the travel that I so love, on a performer/yoga teacher salary. What I come up with may not always be the best, but I have no problem going back to the drawing board of my mind, time and time again, and creating something new, something different, something unique. My brain does not like sameness, or repeating, so sometimes, even when I want to "rest" my grey matter, I simply cannot shut off (even with a lot of yoga!) the little voice that says "What if you???" And so, I've always been a little sad when I've heard people say, "I don't have an imagination." Oh course, it's not true, we all have them - but like a muscle we never use, this fabulous thing called our imaginations can get flabby and weak, if we don't use it. We stop letting our minds soar, and so they become grounded - and not in a good way, but in a stuck way, in a "if it's not in front of my face, it can't possibly be" way. It used to be that this type of they call "in the box" thinking was the domain of adults alone, but lately, I have begun to see more and more children, even as young as seven or eight, leave the land of make believe behind for the land of literal and linear, and I'll say it - drab!! In folktales all sorts of fantastical things occur - animals talk, the sun and moon live as brothers on earth, and in the sky at the same time, young men turn into bears - it breaks my heart, when I hear a kid say, "Yeah, but that can't really happen!" or "That never happened!" Says who????? Who's to say what happened in that time of long, long ago? We know there were dinosaurs - how unbelievable in a way are they - creatures like giants, with huge claws and teeth - are some of the things in stories anymore believable that that? I sit here typing on a tiny keyboard, that will somehow connect me to people around the world - how believable would that have been to my ancestors? Of the fact that I can speak to my friends in Argentina - not just hear their voices, but see their faces as well, or that a big metal bird can fly through the sky with hundreds of people in it? All of the things that we use without thought today, were once, just figments of the imagination. They were all the unlikely dreams of someone at sometime who were not afraid to use the inquisitiveness we are all born with. And that, is the power of the imagination. Yes, it's nice I can use that part of my brain to bring a character to life, but an even more important use of my brain was the way I thought of being a storyteller in the first place. The day I dared to say, "What that lady - Carmen Deedy - is doing on that stage - I can do that!" And once I conjured it to my brain, I began the process of making it come to be, just as Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and all those guys, first saw our technology in their heads, and they worked to bring it to fruition. As I stood in front of a college class recently, and talked about why stories are so important, the importance of imagination in building ones life came to me in a flash. I said to them that until we can imagine something more than we see, how can we ever hope to have more than what we see, more than just the status quo, more than what we have been born into and see around us? Yes, work will be involved - hard work, and maybe failure, too, but before we can know any of that, we first must see it in our heads. We must have the blue print, the road map, that our imaginations can give us. And that is why, I love folktales and fairytales, because it says to our imaginations, "Yo, get off the couch and start working out!!" It's like the exercise that you do that doesn't feel like exercise, it just feels like you are doing something engaging and fun, that, oh, yeah, just happens to be good for you. Having an imagination isn't just for kids, and certainly isn't babyish or childish, it is essential. It's like the ABCs of building a life, without it you can't even begin to bring into existence all that might be within you, and that would be a waste, and a shame.

Notes from the Field: Patience, Patience, Patience

I am oh, so happily sitting in a lit room, with heating drumming it's way up the pipes, three days after Hurricane Sandy knocked the NY/NJ area on it's ear, and every day pleasantries right out of my apartment. I try really hard to remember to be grateful for the "little things" - light, plumbing, drinkable water. Each time I have returned from Haiti, I am always ACUTELY aware of just how blessed not just I, but EVERY American is. But, after a little while the sense of entitlement seeps right back in, and I find myself becoming annoyed if the train is a tad late, or if - GOD FORBID, my cellphone acts a little strangely. I forget that things I take for granted, are not rights, they are perks - privileges that I should constantly be thankful for, and in awe of. So, I look at the past three days, and to however long it takes to restore my beloved PATH and subway service back to their under appreciated, but when you really think about it AWESOMENESS, as a time to cultivate that most important of qualities - gratitude. And, I will try really hard to be the model of patience, as people who have far more skills and knowledge than I do, work their tails off to restore a mass transit system that allows people like me to zip in and around the area, car free, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for just a few dollars. And so, if you see me telling stories in the next few weeks, don't be surprised if this next one comes out of my lips, because every time I tell it, I am reminded that patience is indeed a virtue. And one I need to grow in myself. "There once was a man who returned from a war, completely changed. where once he was loving to his wife, now he barely looked at her, and spoke harshly when he did. The wife, saddened by all this, went to the town wise man. "I hear you can make potions to make someone love you again. Please, please, make such a potion for me." The wise man said he would, but to do this, he would need the woman to bring him three whiskers from a tiger. The woman left, puzzled about how she could possibly get the whiskers, and not be mauled to death. And then she came up with a plan. She went to the lair of a tiger, and placed a bowl of the richest cream some distance from the mouth of the cave, and then hid herself in the woods. When the tiger came out, it sniffed the air, but did not see her, and ate the cream. For one full week, she did this same thing. The next week, she moved the bowl of cream closer to the mouth of the tiger's lair, and when it came out, she still stood a good distance away, but she let the tiger see her. Another week passed, and she moved the bowl closer to the mouth of the tiger's cave, and she herself crept closer. Nearer and nearer both she and the cream got, as first weeks, then months passed, finally she was standing besides the tiger when it drank the cream. It gently went to the woman, and let her stroke it's great head, and as she did, she pulled three whiskers from it's face. Going back to the wise man, she proudly said, "Here are the whiskers you wanted. Now, make the potion that will make my husband love me once more." The wise man smiled, and replied, "First - tell me how you got these whiskers." And so she did, relaying in detail how she had patiently worked every day to gain the tiger's trust. And when she was done, the wise man smiled at her, and said, "And it is the same thing with your husband - you MUST have patience." Life is full of challenges, and many of them cannot be fixed in a day, a week, sometimes not even for years - but it's in those times, instead of tearing our hair out, maybe we can begin to practice patience. If it's something we want badly enough, like the woman in the story yearning for the love of her husband, than it is surely worth the wait!

NOTES FROM THE FIELD:WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER!

There is an Aesop's fable that goes like this: a grasshopper and ant are best friends since birth. They walk together, talk together, eat and dance together. One fall day, the ant stops their fun games, and begins to gather harvest to put away for the cold winter ahead. The grasshopper does not, "There is plenty of time to do that,"he says. "Come friend, and dance with me!" But the ant warns that though it seems like winter is a long way off, it will be there before they know it, and if they don't act now, put aside food now, when the winter comes they will starve. But, even as the ant works, and warns her friend, the grasshopper ignores her, and continues to dance. Time passes, and by and by it is winter,and one day the grasshopper realizes that there are no crops to eat, and he has not put aside a single morsel, and is doomed to starve. The only thing he can think to do is go to his dear friend, the ant, and hope she will share... In the last month, I have had the opportunity to tell that story to several groups of pre-schooler and their teachers, care givers, and families. At this point in the story, I always stop, and poll the group. "Who thinks the ant will share her food?" I ask. And, almost every time, a sea of little hands shoot up in the air. "She'll share! Julie, she should share with her friends!" they tell me as if it is the one and only answer. Seeing their willingness to give always encourages me, and makes me smile. But one day, when I asked the adults in the room whether the ant would share or not, I was greeted with rolled eyes, and grunts of disgust. "No!" they said, practically jeering at the poor grasshopper their imaginations had conjured up. "Serves him right for not listening!" The harshness in their voices made me want to ask the question to the next group I performed in front of - and when I did, the results were exactly the same. While the children were forgiving, the adults thought the grasshopper got exactly what he deserved. As I thought of this informal poll, a question formed in my mind - when exactly, do we begin to hold a grudge? When do we go from seeing everyone as someone worthy of a second chance, of forgiveness, to seeing others as so separate from ourselves, that even though they were life long friends, we would slam the door in their faces just because, "we told them so?" I laugh sometimes when people say that children don't live in the "real world", when to me, it seems that it is adults that don't live in the real world. Children live only in the NOW, the present, the only time that is really "real", because the past is gone, and the future hasn't happened yet - that is why they are so willing to forgive. We see how they may look at us like we are satan when we take away a toy, but are begging for a hug five minutes later, because the moment of anger is gone - it is a new moment, and in that moment the anger is a thing of the past. It's we adults that can't let go of the past, that hold a grudge, that need so desperately to be RIGHT! Living in moments that are gone, is not living in reality - because unless there's an app on that new i-phone that I don't know about, the past is not REAL. And more than that, when exactly do we learn - because I believe it is learned behavior - to turn our backs on our fellow living beings? When do we change from being compassionate and giving like a child, to being hard, and afraid to share, because we fear there won't be anything for us? When do we forget that we are all in this world, this life, together? Having spent A LOT of time with kids all my life,I'd say the shift begins at age 12 or so, when being like "everyone else" becomes more important than anything in the world. That is the age of cliques and "mean girls", and jocks versus geeks. It is the time of separation from the parental unit - which we need to do - but also the separation, it seems to me, to our fellow living beings. Of course, as a friend who was a nun, and is now a teacher pointed out to me, people do need to learn accountability, and that actions have consequences, so that they won't repeat their mistakes, and that they will learn valuable life lessons. I mean, no, the grasshopper shouldn't live his life mooching off the poor little ant. But, the lessons can come with kindness, the lesson can come while a hand is being extended to help out. Because how the story ends is that the ant does in fact share, BUT, she tells the grasshopper, "Next year, you must promise that you will work just as hard as I do!" And the grasshopper does. He learns the lesson that was compassionately taught by the ant that never forgot that even thought the grasshopper made a mistake, he was always someone worth helping, simply because he was another living being.

NOTES FROM THE FIELD: THE STORY OF OUR LIVES

It's hard to talk about some things without being a "downer", so forgive me as I introduce that word that brings a shiver to many a spine - death - to this written conversation about storytelling and stories. Last week, a man I have known for, I'd say 11 or so years, passed away of a heart attack - at 44 years old! It was sudden, it was shocking, but like so many other things in life, it has been unexpectedly joyous. For in this past week, I have been a part of a chain of emails that have spoke of his love of bringing joy to children, his excellence as a father, and his compassion as a friend. The story of his life, as told by those of us left behind has been inspiring, moving, and uplifting, as opposed to sad and morose. It has made me remember that every day of my life, I am writing and telling my own life story - that every choice I make is another plot twist, that I - and no one else, is the author of. If I don't like how this story is playing out - I can change it, by the choices I make, by the actions I take. Like the folktales I love and tell, my story will be full of mystery, things I don't understand - but as a woman I met at a hospital told me, "There are some things that aren't ours to know." And, I love that! That though, yes, I can shape the story of my life by my deeds and words, there are always going to be things I cannot control, little surprises, little challenges that help keep me alive and alert, and remind me to be humble and grateful for this funny little gift called life. As I think over Vince's life - or what little I know of it - he was every bit as much of a hero as the one's in my story - for though life threw him curve balls, he kept in the game, kept going with a big full heart, always full of ideas. People sometimes ask me if I tell personal stories, and for the most part I don't. One little anecdote here or there, but I stick to folktales, because, frankly, my life has not been anywhere as interesting as the stories I find in folklore collections. But, maybe, maybe, if I live as fully, as courageously as Vince, one day, I will look at the story of my life, and find it has as much to tell, as the story of this wonderful man who just left this earth. Maybe, if I can continue to author my life in the noble and passionate way he did, as the heroes and heroines in folktales do, I will have a story worth sharing with others, a story that I can only hope will be as uplifting as the life of Vincenzo Tortorici's.

NOTES FROM THE FIELD; LISTEN!!!!

Recently I've been asked to do a number of storytelling workshops. Short ones time wise, about a BIG SUBJECT: Storytelling. With only an hour and a half or so to take on this ancient art that I love, I have been wondering what to focus on? Do I chose the amazing material of the stories themselves - these gems packed with everything from wisdom to mystery to fun, these tales that are so often the basis for so much of the literature we have read and heard through out the ages?? Or do I speak on "the technique" of how I work on a story - the way I chose what I want to tell, and how I try, to the best of my ability, to honor the story I have chosen? Maybe people would want to hear about how to use improvisation, movement, American Sign Language in their tales? Maybe they'd like to know how to adapt stories for a modern audience, or find a way to take one story and make it appropriate for different age groups? Or maybe they'd just like me to tell them a good story, and call it a day?? But the other day, as I was reading an article on storytelling and clowning (two things near and dear to my heart) I saw the words LISTEN DYNAMICALLY. Eureka - I found my topic!! Like many things we do all the time - breathing, for one, we sort of take listening for granted. We assume that we are listening because we hear something - noise, a voice, music - but hearing, isn't listening. Listening, is way, way deeper and harder. Listening doesn't just happen with the ears, it happens with all the senses. For a storyteller it takes place in your heart, and in your gut as you read story after story, searching for the ONE, that is calling to you to tell, to bring it to life. Listening is what transpires, when you choose that tale, and you begin to know what parts to emphasize, what bits to shorten, how one character talks or walks, what you want your audience to walk away with. Listening is knowing watching the audience as they arrive, and sensing their mood, feeling out whether to go "fast and funny", or "long and deep". Searching for the shy kid, who might welcome attention, if I stray into the audience, and the one little person, who might freak out if the strange lady telling the story gets too close. It's changing any "game plan" you had a moments notice, because it would not suit the audience that is in front of you. Listening is being vigilant, not checking out, being present - being sure that what you are doing at the time, is THE BEST way possible to serve the people who have been kind enough to take time out of their lives to see you. Listening is being responsive, responsible, and I would say - respectful - audiences "tell" you what they are all about, and if you listen closely enough - dynamically enough to quote the article I saw, you can hear it. Sometimes, just like you don't hear a word quite right, you can misread a signal when you're listening, but the only way to correct the situation is to listen even harder, so you can bring your ship back on course. People often ask me if the three things I do with my professional life - storytelling, clowning in hospitals, and teaching yoga, have anything in common. And they do - listening. My work in the hospitals is one long listening exercise - what does that child who is in pain, need?? Quiet music, or rowdy slapstick - only when I listen to what they have to offer do I know. In a yoga class, are my students understanding the alignment and philosophical points I am making? I will only know if I am present and listening. Listening goes well beyond anything I do in my professional life, it is what I must do to be the best wife, friend, person, I can be. To quote this article, which was written by a woman named Annabelle Morgan, who works with children through both storytelling and clown in Africa "Dynamic Listening is about engaging in a game with the universe - you listen to the empty nothingness, the universe delivers, you respond, the universe listens and so on. A cosmic ordering system, both playful and terrifying!"

My Argentina Tour - the gift that keeps giving!

I have been back home from Argentina a week now. I am fully back in the NYC/NJ flow. I have stopped needing to refrain from saying, "Hola!" instead of hello, and - I know I am only one of about three people who will say this - I am very much enjoying our HOT summer weather! But, the other day, after I returned from telling at the Hans Christian Anderson statue in Central Park, on the same bill as one of the "mothers" of the modern storytelling movement, Laura Simms, when I sat down to write about how wonderful that venue is, and how GREAT it was that people stayed to hear me tell a story or two after Laura did, I opened my email, and found this BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING letter: Dear Julie Pasqual, I'm almost certain you do not know who i am, but i read about your visit to Argentina this past week. My name is Lucio and I go to St. Xavier's College, a school you went to tell stories. Unfortunately i'm in my last year, so i was not able to enjoy your visit. You must be also wondering: "why is he writting this to me?" The fact is that i entered your blog and read about you and noticed you are an actress as well as a storyteller. I'm currently acting on a play (let's say i'm an actor too), and got really frustrated when read you were already back to the US, because I was really looking forward on meeting you, so we could hopefully have a talk! I love the story "The Little Light" and picturing you performing it makes me want to go back in time to enjoy your performance. I believe the story is brilliantly written and gives the ideal message to kids. I hope you recieve this e-mail, because I just wanted to let you know how much i love your work, how much of an inspiration you are and how sorry I am for not meeting! :( Best wishes, Lucio Robredo And so, I was once again transported back to Buenos Aires to the all the terrific students and teachers I met, and I closed my eyes, and said, "Thank you!!" Thank you Lucio, for being the kind of person who is moved to send such a lovely email - may you always have the courage and heart to follow your dreams. Thank you Dream On Productions, for a three week tour, I will never, ever forget, and that has left me inspired as a teller. Thank you teachers, who looked at the materials before them, and said, "Yes, let's take a chance, and book this Julie person to come to perform for our kids." And, thank you, Universe, for giving me the right gifts, at the right time to have been able to bring something to my Argentinian brothers and sisters!!

Notes from the Field: The Gift of Light

Yesterday my first two shows since returning from Argentina had a surreal feel to it. Fighting NOT to say, "Hola!", and explain that I was from the United States, was down right hard. After three weeks of many shows, that little bit of a lead in has come to feel very "in my body". But, though I fought off the urge to talk REALLY, REALLY fast like I always did in Argentina - to demonstrate how fast some of us in the NYC area speak, and to loosen up the crowd - and I told some tales that had been sitting on the shelf while I was in South America, I did turn, in my second show to a story that got a really good work-out during my Buenos Aires time, I call it "The Little Light". In brief, the story concerns a king, who, before he retires, must chose which of his three sons is best suited to take his place. All three are good men, the eldest excels in business, and has the bags of gold to back it up. The second is a talented farmer, who's every seed produces a wonderful bounty. The third is a bit of a dreamer, he tells stories, sings songs, his presence makes people glad that they have met him. All have qualities that would make them a good leader, but which, the king muses, should wear the crown. Finally, the king comes up with a challenge: whichever son can fill up a little room completely - from floor to ceiling, and from wall to wall - that is the one the king will make ruler of the kingdom. The eldest son, though he brings bags and bags of gold, cannot fill the room. The middle son, comes with his crops, but he cannot fill the room either. Finally, the youngest son comes, and from a small pocket, he pulls out a candle, that lights up the entire room - from floor to ceiling, and from wall to wall - and it is he who becomes king. What I love about this story, is that it is one that can be as short as I need it to be, or as long - if I do, what I have soooooooooooooo come to love, and ask the audience it's opinion. During my time in Argentina, I played the role of king, wandering into the audience asking which son I should pick, three or sometimes four times a day. Some audiences were split, calling for the "business man" as much as for the "farmer". Some only wanted, the third son, who I sometimes nicknamed in my telling "the popular guy". Then, right before the youngest son (popular guy) revealed what he had in his pocket to fill the room, I paused and asked the students what they thought. And, that was my favorite part!!! Here are some answers I have heard: flashlight, i-pod, cellphone, music, invitation to a party, balloons, air, nothing, a bomb, a gun (these last two were from the same school - a bit disturbing!), matches, one of those inflatable bouncey castles they have at fairs, glitter, bubbles, a lantern, laughter, love, joy. I have gotten candle right off the bat, and yesterday, at the science camp I was performing at (back here in USA), I got dry ice, and a mini fog machine!! What I also love about this story, is that I can really tailor it to any age, I have told this tale to 8 year olds, all the way up to adults. But, what is most fascinating about this story to me, is the way it came into my life. From time to time, I get "requests" - asking me if I can learn a particular tale for a special event. This is always a tricky affair for me, because, generally, as a teller, I try to only tell stories I LOVE. Since these stories are going to be living in my head, inhabiting my body, I try, much like one tries to only put good food in one's mouth, to only pick tales that touch me in some way, make me laugh, make me think, make me WANT to express it in my own way - plus, as my mother would be happy to tell you, I don't like being told what to do!! So two years ago, when I was approached by a school to tell stores about light for their Winter's Solstice, I was happy to do so - I had some tales I already tell that would fit, and I knew a few others, I have on my list to work on (I don't know if all storytellers do this, but I have this sort of "wish list" of stories, that I am forever working my way down, of stories that I have read and fallen in love with, and want to work up for performance - it's endless, and I LOVE that!!) But, just as I was merrily on my way to type up their contract, the woman who was organizing the event said, "And there's this story, that we REALLY NEED you to tell." She didn't know anything about it, except she thought it was African, and they needed me to tell it last, so that then they would all light candles for a sing-along. I have to admit, that at first glance, I did not fall in love with this tale - but, sometimes, a gig is a gig, and so I worked it up the story, and arrived at the school. The moment I got there, I knew I was in for it. All the elements that I ask not to have nearby if someone asks me to tell at a party, were there in full force - tables of sugary food, right next to where I was to be, balloons, and other (really beautiful, and touchable decorations), music from another room's art fair, low lights, a barely working mike, a room packed with sugared up children, and adults holding baby quiches and wine - OH, OH!!! I got the music turned off, some of the food moved, asked the kids to come forward, and the adults to hang back, and I started. It was no picnic - you can hide cookies, but it they are good - and these were, the scent hangs in the air, so the kids wanted them, and walked across my "stage" to get them, the microphone seemed like it to was ready for winter break, and the voices from every other room in that school seemed to be travelling in my direction. I slogged on, because, frankly, I didn't have a choice. And then, finally, I got to the end, and told the requested story - my contact beamed with joy, as she physically "shushed" everyone living being in the room - so I had blissful silence for this tale. She was anxious to get to the candle lighting, so I did not "extend" the story, I told it simply, and I could feel my heart, begin to turn in the story's direction. As I left, it was the memory of those last minutes, of the word light, and of the glowing candle-lit faces in the room. I put that story away for a long time - I figured it was a "one off" - learned for just that occasion, but then one day, half way through telling one story - it popped into my brain, and it was the next story to pop out of my mouth. This time I had the luxury of being able to inquire as to what the kids thought might be in the youngest sons pocket, and as I saw those hands shoot up, ramrod straight, and the cry of "OOh!! OOOH, I know!!" I began to see the beauty of this tale, and it climbed onto my "A-list". In Argentina, it became a "go-to" story for me. The premise simple enough, that with just a little bit of change in my vocabulary, I could make even the less advanced English speakers (and there were not many) understand the king's dilemma. And, oh, how once the ball got rolling in terms of ideas, it just didn't stop. Seeing the joy in the faces of the kids as they answered, filled me with something one kid suggested - DELIGHT! Yesterday, back home in NYC, I saw the same joyful raising of hands, heard that squeal of excitement that seems to leave our bodies at age 12 or so, and I was so thankful for that crazy gig, that started off with so many challenges but, ultimately, gave me a gift that fills me with LIGHT!!

Notes from the field: Good-bye Argentina

Just as I started my “Notes from the Field – Argentina Edition” in an airport, I will begin this last post from one. I have a good two and a half hours before my flight, but Jimmy’s (my husband) flight was earlier, (since he booked it after mine was booked by Dream On, the company hosting my tour), and we wanted to come to the airport together. It felt odd for me to be the one on the other side of security, as he walked away. My last three shows on this “storytelling bootcamp/marathon” went well, which was soothing because on my last four show day this week I: A)felt like my voice was totally going B)couldn’t hear if the mike was working C) had kids whose English wasn’t as great as most of the others I had encountered, but they were “tweens” so stories I would use with limited language younger kids would be “babyish” for them D)Was at a school new to Dream On, and hence wanted to make a good impression for this company, whom I have grown to have a really, really deep love and respect for. I mean, all things considered, it wasn’t a disaster, but it was hard work, and it definitely wasn’t prefect which is one of the things that this tour has, once again, taught me. Carrie Parker, one of my FAVORITE yoga teachers coined a phrase I love “perfectly imperfect” – that’s what we humans are, and that, for the most part is what life is. Sometimes we get caught in thinking life is what we see at the end of the movies, when the couples have reunited, and the credits roll, or, if you’re a storytelling – when the words “happily ever after” come out of your lips. But, who is it that said,”Happily ever after all depends on when you end the story.” The GREAT musical, “Into the Woods” plays on that concept – that after the fairytale wedding, after the hero ends his journey – then what? Is life forever more “perfect”. And, is it supposed to be? One of the gifts of telling stories is that each and every time, it is new. During an experience like this, it was so very interesting to me to really see that – despite that I may have told the same story many times in one week, each time it was different. And often, it was the “imperfections” that made them most special, most alive. One instance was when I invited some children into my story – it was a school that smelled like art – from the moment you entered you could smell the paint, glue, and creativity in the air. Because their English was limited, I took the chance to model for them, and then have them act out a bit of the tale. The first set of kids acted as I thought, and set them up to, but the second set, didn’t – they got creative, and because they did, I did, too. I found, in this already new way of approaching this tale, an even more playful, risky, and alive way to bring this ancient story to life. Because the kids were up there, it was perfect and imperfect all at the same time. It was, to coin Carrie’s phrase “Perfectly Imperfect”, and it was also what was needed, and what worked. Thanks to my work as a clown, I often take risks, I am always exploring, and never, ever, ever tell stories exactly the same, and this trip both validated, and strengthened those “muscles” in me. It is in fact why, even today, after three straight weeks of storytelling, I am not burnt out, why I am eager to go home, and tell some more! I can’t help but see that if I could only approach the challenges that life throws me in the same manner I tackle those tricky storytelling moments – staying open, playful, creative, instead of tense, upset, and irate – my life would be as much fun as these storytelling performances have been. The second of the three lessons that I am leaving Argentina with comes from my own saying “It’s good to go, but it’s good to come back, too!” I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the fact that though, I am a traveler, be it for work, or be it for play – there ALWAYS comes a time when I am ready to come home. Even when Jimmy and I have been in places as stunning as Alaska or Rome, there is always a moment at the end of our adventure, when a voice in me “Let’s go back. Let’s take the inspiration we’ve just received and use it in our everyday lives.” And that excites me – it tells me that somehow I have managed to cobble together this crazy storyteller/clown/yoga teacher life, and it works for me. I went into this trip wondering if, with all the storytelling, I would even miss my work as a clown and yoga teacher, if, maybe I should just pick one thing – storytelling, and throw all my energy behind it. Maybe I would be better off, less pulled in three sometimes different directions, more “successful” – but I think I have always known this about myself. I am a woman with MANY, MANY interests, and somehow being three things at once is what I love to do, because I missed those other parts of myself, and want to return to them. AND, I see how those components of myself help me to do what I have been doing here. As I said earlier, the clowning, gives me the gift to play, to surf the moment and energy, to be open, vulnerable, and alive. And yoga, ohhhhh yoga, it is what gets my body, mind, and intentions in the right mood. I allows me to take the physical risks I take on stage, focus my mind in those moments, and keeps bringing me, time and time again back to my mission – to serve my audience. I am thankful that I have those resources to pull from, and overjoyed to be returning to them. And, the my last word on this tour is really a love letter to Dream On Productions, and it’s founder and director, Alberto, his staff of Sonia, Marcela, Carol, Sol, and Yulie. I have NEVER, EVER, EVER had people treat “storyteller me” with such respect as these people have treated me. I have NEVER, EVER, EVER felt like a group of people understood what storytelling is, what it takes, why it is special, and why, without sounding overly important AN ART. At a party that was given in the honor of Priscilla Howe (an amazing woman, who has done 4 of these tours!!!) and I, we were asked to say three words that we felt described our experience with Dream On thus far. I had been here a week, Priscilla, two. I instantly thought of the word “welcome” because they were, from the very moment of my arrival to these last moments of my stay, I have been treated like an honored guest. The second was “inspired” because the level of English in the children was so great, that it inspired me to bring my A+++++ game to them, and to their teachers who clearly are doing many, many, many things right. And, at the time my third word was “utilized” because I felt like I was being of service, being put to good use. But, as it always is, afterwards, I thought of something else, and that is “appreciated” and “respected”. I often say that the hardest part of being a storyteller (and a clown for that matter) is explaining exactly what it is I do. How can I, without it turning into a lecture, tell people that it is an ancient art form, that there are folktales from every culture, that there are stories that are for ALL AGES, that there is mystery, lessons, and healing in the words and images of these gems. How can I get them to understand, that it is not a stepping stone to being a “real actress” – as some folks think, that it is where I want to be, because I get to inhabit these amazing journeys, and bring them, in my own way to my audiences from pre-schoolers to adults. The staff at Dream On Productions “get” in a true, deep way what storytelling is, what storytellers do, and the magic that happens when the tales hit the ears and hearts of the audience. And that, has been the greatest gift to me from these three weeks. I hope I can hold onto that love, appreciation, and respect on those days, I am not feeling so loved and understood as a teller of folktales. I pray that I can always see the faces of the Dream On staff making me feel welcomed, inspired, and appreciated over and over again, as I try to do justice to the ART of storytelling. Good night Argentina – Good Morning New York!!!

Notes from the Field: Questions Part Two

I can barely believe it, but my time in storytelling in Argentina will be up in four days. As I stated in my last post, one of the parts thst I have come to cherish most is the question and answer section at the end of the performances. I have ALWAYS loved the frankness, openess, and down right funniest of the questions of children. They dare to ask the things that we all want to, but don't because we have on our "social filters". But during these times I encourage them to ask me ANYTHING - except about math, because I suck at that - but ANYTHING. And, they have. Some of my favorites have been about my hair - here in Argentina, NO woman has hair shorter than their shoulders, so my, "barely there hair" is a bit of a shock. Today, in the cutest, most polite way, a group of kids asked to touch it> "So soft!" they said, as the teachers looked on in horror!! But, why not - many AFrican Americans havent' touched hair that has not been chemically treated, so why should these children have any idea what my curls feel like?? Queries have ranged from: Do you like all the stories you tell? Where do you find them? Do you write your own? to What famous person do you know? Have you tried dulce de leche? But my favorite questions came the other day, from a trio of teen age boys, who, from the surface looked like they were not engaged AT ALL!! They were sitting in a triangle, the tallest of the three looking - to my eyes, the least engaged of all. But then - came question time. "Julie," he said, "Are American politians as strange as they seem?" I was shocked!! They then went on to name political figures, and comedians: Chris Rock, John Stewart, Stephen Colbert - knowing both the subject matter, and the art of parody, better than most adults I know, much less any teen age kid I tell stories for. They asked my opinions - I gave them - but I won't here, about politics, celebrity, culture in American. And, after we HAD to stop ( I was alread 20 minutes over)they walked away discussing politics IN ENGLISH!! One of the young men said he wanted to be a comeidan ala Chris Rock, the other wanted to be a politician, the other a community leader - I hope, I pray, I wish - that they all do. What a smart, funny world we have to look forward to, if they do. SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG TO POST - MY COMPUTER IS A BIT WACKY - SO I AM USING SOMEONE ELSE'S SO MUCH TO DAY - THERE WILL BE MORE!!!!! THANKS FOR READING!!!

Storytelling in Argentina Part Four

STORYTELLING IN ARGENTINA QUESTIONS One of the things that has been sooooooooooooooo WONDERFUL about telling stories here in Argentina is the little question and answer period after my stories have been told. Sometimes they start off slowly – but usually once the ball gets rolling, it is REALLY hard to stop it. I get the usuals, of course: how old are you, do you have a dog, a pet, a husband, children?? Then I get the how do you like Argentina questions: do I know who Messi is (futbol player), have I tasted Mate (a tea type drink), do I like dulce de leche (they do like their sweets here!!) Then we move onto the personal and lifestyle section: am I famous (before I answer that I have to stop laughing!! A storyteller – FAMOUS???? HA! HA!), do I live in a house or an apartment or house, how long have I been telling stories, how did I come to tell stories, and that most important question of all – have I met Justin Beiber (he is becoming a theme of my travels!!) And then, every once in a while, I get a really insightful question like, “How did you learn to improvise??” This from a young man of about eleven. I was floored by that question, because what that told me is that he realized something fundamental to storytelling – that it is not a script. That though, especially right now when I am doing four shows a day – sometimes repeating material, sometimes not – each and every time I perform, it is COMPLETELY different!! That is one of the things that I love about storytelling, and that makes it such a wonderful art – it demands a relationship with the audience, it demands I see them, so I know how to tell the tale. As I look at the faces, and see what it is that they are responding to, I can better gear my performance to the needs of the situation. I go with what is truly alive at that moment – I improvise. What that young man picked up on, and was able to verbalize, is something that MANY people don’t get about storytelling. He saw and acknowledged that that performance was a one time thing – that was that days telling, never to be repeated again. Even if I told the same story to the same group of kids, it would be different the next time, because every single second is different, and the art of storytelling honors that. With four shows a day, I can’t even remember what school that kid was in, just two days later, but, whoever you are – THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Storytelling in Argentina: Part Two

A QUESTION OF IDENTITY From the moment I arrived in Buenos Aires, and saw the cobblestone streets of the San Telmo barrio where I would be staying, and the gorgeous grey roofs, and the long shuttered windows, I couldn’t help but feel like I was in Europe. Every street I ventured down reminded me of Paris or Rome. I learned on my second day here, that the reason I felt that way was because that was exactly what much of Buenos Aires was designed to be like: Europe. I learned on my bike tour that Plaza De Mayo, what is known as the heart of the city, was set up like the Spaniards would, and that the raison d’etre (to be French, and therefore European)behind the GORGEOUS opera house, Teatre Colon, was to rival the Paris Opera House, to show to the world that Argentina was as good as any country on the continent of Europe. Talking to a teacher at one of the schools I performed at, I learned that some 40% of Argentines consider themselves European instead of South American. It made me kind of sad to think that this vibrant, gusty, cultured city was trying so hard to measure up to somewhere else, and that perhaps its people didn’t see it as I, an outsider could – full of beauty, and it’s own distinct flavor. But just as I was about to mentally scold Buenos Aires for wanting to be something other than it was, I realized that since I got here, I, too, have been doing a bit of that myself. Dream On Productions, who is the company promoting, and running this marvelous storytelling tour I’m on, has been sending tellers to some of the schools that I have been sent to for several years. The teachers and staff have come to love their yearly visits from these English speakers who bring tales from around the world, and from their own lives, and as to be expected, each school has had it’s own favorite teller. Because your “first storyteller” is often the one you “imprint on” (the thing a baby bird does when it first gets out of the shell – taking the first thing it sees as it’s mother, even if it’s a rock, and loving it with all it’s little birdy might!), it’s not uncommon for a teacher, a student, an administrator to think that Storyteller A is THE BEST IN THE WORLD, and while you might do a good job, you are not Storyteller A! As someone who is actively trying to bring more humility in my life, coming into a place where a school’s “first storyteller” left so much of a mark that EVERYONE pales in comparison, was just the way to be humbled. But I quickly learned that in this instance, that trying to be humble could quickly slide into, “ Gee, why can’t I be more like Storyteller A. Maybe I should tell stories the way they do. “ Just like those folks who, long ago, wanted Buenos Aires to look European instead of South American, I was caught for a moment in trying to be what I was not. And in these first few days of being here thinking about all this, it is the city itself who has helped me believe in myself. Because despite all the planning of European designers, architects, and city planners, Buenos Aires is not Europe – it’s it own place, it’s own city, it has it’s own vibe – it is unique. And that’s what I have always loved about storytelling, that there are as many ways to tell tales as there are stars in the sky. Tellers are like snowflakes, no two the same – and they shouldn’t be. So, to quote the musical, Evita, “Don’t cry for me, Argentina.” You have inspired me to be as individual as your own dynamic capital city!!

NOTES FROM THE FIELD

THIS MONTH I AM IN ARGENTINA ON A TELLING STORIES TO CHILDREN LEARNING ENGLISH. FOR THE FIRST TIME I'M GOING TO BE BLOGGING IN "REAL TIME" WITH (HOPEFULLY) DAILY UPDATES! STORYTELLING IN ARGENTINA ENTRY ONE On the Road: As I had to choke back my customary tears as I walked away from my husband at the airport security check point, I was once again reminded of my complicated love affair for work travel. Make NO MISTAKE – I LOVE, I MEAN LOVE TO TRAVEL – I always have since my father used to take my youngest brother and I to JFK airport, where he worked at the post office, to watch the flights take off and land. This was, of course, in a different time, when you could stroll all the way up to any gate, and Robby and I used to bring suitcases filled with nothing, just so we could look like we were going somewhere. My mother’s mother, Nanny, was the first intrepid traveler I knew, she was a widow for most of the time I knew her (a brief marriage to a jerk named Irving slowed her down for a little while) – and as a kid it was she who went to that wondrous place – DISNEY WORLD, and frequently went to that darker, more mysterious place of her birth – “The Islands” (meaning the Caribbean). She brought my sisters and brothers and I trinkets of her travels, and the year she brought me back a castle from Disney, with all the figurines of all the major players in the Disney animated films, I vowed in my little soul to visit that place, and many more. As the youngest of a family of six kids, who were growing up in Queens – which, while not as expensive as Manhattan, was still a pricey proposition for my decidedly middle-middle class parents – travel was not something we did. A subway ride to Chinatown the weekend before school opened, and a few trips to Rockaway beach was the extent of our summer travel. When my oldest sister went to graduate school in Michigan, we all took the road trip there as our vacation. And when she took a job in Washington, DC, we again, loaded up the station wagon, and made that the family outing. Most of the other kids in our neighborhood had relatives “down south”, so they would talk about their summers there with grandparents and cousins – but because they also brought back stories of a place with no subways, and something called chitlins – some sort of food made from a pigs intestines – I was not at all sad that we Pasquals were New Yorkers through and through. High school was different, though, for now I had friends who’s relatives lived in London and France. And my Manhattan born and bred friends, and their families went skiing in Vermont, had houses in Block Island, Rhode Island, and went on cruises – while I, had no passport, and had never been on a plane. But that all changed the moment I entered my senior year in high school. Determined – to my mother’s MAJOR chagrin, to actually try to make it as a professional dancer, I began to audition for summer stock musicals during March of my senior year. Dumb luck, fate, and destiny all must have played a hand, because I landed the very first audition I attended. It was a tiny theatre in Upstate NY, and while I was going to take a bus there, because I was leaving a week before my graduation, my parents gave me as a gift, an hour and a half flight back home to don my cap and gown for the ceremony. And so, my traveling life began. For the next almost 20 years, I traveled in cars, vans, buses, and airplanes across 48 or the 50 states (just knocked off number 49 earlier this year – only have Hawaii to go). I became a REALLY good packer, never bringing what I couldn’t physically carry myself, learning how to stuff my undies and socks into my shoes, thriving on sleeping in any position that the situation demanded. I also got really good at in those years, of saying goodbye, and of keeping friendships shallow, and keeping to myself – the life of a “gypsy” means that you are with one group of really talented people for a few months, and then you all go your separate ways on a new gig. I did the typical thing of having some tour romances – getting involved with guys I had nothing in common with, except the fact that they were, well – THERE, but then I learned not to fall prey to the “add water and mix” relationships that being on tour lends itself too. In this way, never being home was easy. For I LOVED, AND LOVE exploring - getting up early, rather than staying up later after a show was my thing, and I would roam the cities and places I was in – museums, shops, local dance studios, parks, hidden restaurants – I was fascinated by it all. In addition, I couldn’t get enough of hotel living – I mean, you leave your room, and somebody makes your bed – there was cable TV, when in my apartment in NYC I had a television that barely worked, there was a gym right down stairs, and room and laundry service if I wanted it – for someone who has problems even remembering to wash out the glass I just had my ice tea in – this is paradise. And the kicker was, I was getting paid – to perform and travel – SERIOUSLY – how cool was that??? My passions coming together in one beautiful experience, and I had the frequent flyer miles to prove it!! But then, something happened – something that I really and truly didn’t think would happen to me – I fell in love. I wasn’t brought up with the notion: who will you marry? My parents drummed into our heads: what will you do? So when Jimmy asked me out that first time, I was thinking:1) he’s a stage hand, not an performer, so that’s good 2) I was doing a show in NJ, so I was home with my more or less usual life, so this wasn’t an “instant relationship” 3) He’s got red hair, and that’s rare!!! But, I was NOT thinking, “This man is the love of my life, and is going to make me hate getting on a plane for work, because I’m going to feel like my guts are being ripped out, and like I’m a three year old lost in an amusement park without their parents!!” But that’s exactly what did happen. Having met me “on the job”, and having worked in theatre his whole career, Jimmy knew what my life was like. Just a few months after we started dating, I was off on the road for four months. This was WAY before skype or even email, so good old fashioned phone calls were the thing, and he would almost always come out and visit me. I was still grateful and happy to be performing and traveling, but now, I was leaving something – someone, behind, and instead of never wanting the job to end, I began to count the days, the minute my plane left the gate. I discovered storytelling, and clowning shortly after we got serious, and the new creative challenges of those things, plus the ability to better control my schedule (no more – the job starts next week in Kansas City – GO!!), helped me make the decision to “come off the road”. This new chapter in my life has proven GLORIOUS – I have the most important things in life: a man I love, and who treats me WAY better than I deserve to be treated, AND performance opportunities that are creative, fun, serve people, and allow me to be at home – AND travel. Because in this phase of my life, I have gone INTERNATIONAL!! Through my clowning work I got to Paris, and then Jimmy joined me and we vacationed in London and Amsterdam. I’ve danced with my comedy dance partner at a clowning festival in China, and I’ve had the honor of performing and teaching circus and physical comedy skills with Clowns Without Borders in Haiti, twice. And now – Argentina!!! I have to admit that when I got the first email from Dream On Productions about telling stories in English to kids just learning English in Argentina, I thought it was some kind of a scam. But, after Jimmy and I researched it, and saw it was on the up and up, my bag began to pack. As always, my excitement was tempered by the fact that it was three weeks, and we weren’t sure at first if Jimmy would be able to come – he had missed out on my China adventure, and I regret that I can only describe what the “stinky tofu” smelled like to him, and that he didn’t get a whiff of it himself (it’s odd what memories you come back with!!) But when we figured out that he would be able to come for two of my three weeks – I felt myself fill with ease. And so, here I am on the first leg of my flight to Argentina, I began writing this to stem the tears that came to my eyes the moment I was on one side of the security gate and he was on another. Even though he will be at my side in five days, and I will be doing what I love, performing, and traveling, I know I will not be at my best, until my husband is at my side. But, I suppose that is a good thing, a great thing really, because as much as I love to entertain, amuse, and even educate people, as much as I adore seeing the world, it is nice to know that in my heart, the topmost and deepest region is ruled not by my career(s) or my interests, but by my love for my husband, Jim.

NOTES FROM THE FIELD

FROM JUNE 12TH - 29TH I AM IN ARGENTINA TELLING STORIES FOR CHILDREN IN ENGLISH IN THEIR SCHOOLS. WHAT FOLLOWS ARE MY ADVENTURES AND DISCOVERIES ON THIS TOUR! STORYTELLING IN ARGENTINA ENTRY ONE On the Road/June 9th-10th: As I had to choke back my customary tears as I walked away from my husband at the airport security check point, I was once again reminded of my complicated love affair for work travel. Make NO MISTAKE – I LOVE, I MEAN LOVE TO TRAVEL – I always have since my father used to take my youngest brother and I to JFK airport, where he worked at the post office, to watch the flights take off and land. This was, of course, in a different time, when you could stroll all the way up to any gate, and Robby and I used to bring suitcases filled with nothing, just so we could look like we were going somewhere. My mother’s mother, Nanny, was the first intrepid traveler I knew, she was a widow for most of the time I knew her (a brief marriage to a jerk named Irving slowed her down for a little while) – and as a kid it was she who went to that wondrous place – DISNEY WORLD, and frequently went to that darker, more mysterious place of her birth – “The Islands” (meaning the Caribbean). She brought my sisters and brothers and I trinkets of her travels, and the year she brought me back a castle from Disney, with all the figurines of all the major players in the Disney animated films, I vowed in my little soul to visit that place, and many more. As the youngest of a family of six kids, who were growing up in Queens – which, while not as expensive as Manhattan, was still a pricey proposition for my decidedly middle-middle class parents – travel was not something we did. A subway ride to Chinatown the weekend before school opened, and a few trips to Rockaway beach was the extent of our summer travel. When my oldest sister went to graduate school in Michigan, we all took the road trip there as our vacation. And when she took a job in Washington, DC, we again, loaded up the station wagon, and made that the family outing. Most of the other kids in our neighborhood had relatives “down south”, so they would talk about their summers there with grandparents and cousins – but because they also brought back stories of a place with no subways, and something called chitlins – some sort of food made from a pigs intestines – I was not at all sad that we Pasquals were New Yorkers through and through. High school was different, though, for now I had friends who’s relatives lived in London and France. And my Manhattan born and bred friends, and their families went skiing in Vermont, had houses in Block Island, Rhode Island, and went on cruises – while I, had no passport, and had never been on a plane. But that all changed the moment I entered my senior year in high school. Determined – to my mother’s MAJOR chagrin, to actually try to make it as a professional dancer, I began to audition for summer stock musicals during March of my senior year. Dumb luck, fate, and destiny all must have played a hand, because I landed the very first audition I attended. It was a tiny theatre in Upstate NY, and while I was going to take a bus there, because I was leaving a week before my graduation, my parents gave me as a gift, an hour and a half flight back home to don my cap and gown for the ceremony. And so, my traveling life began. For the next almost 20 years, I traveled in cars, vans, buses, and airplanes across 48 or the 50 states (just knocked off number 49 earlier this year – only have Hawaii to go). I became a REALLY good packer, never bringing what I couldn’t physically carry myself, learning how to stuff my undies and socks into my shoes, thriving on sleeping in any position that the situation demanded. I also got really good at in those years, of saying goodbye, and of keeping friendships shallow, and keeping to myself – the life of a “gypsy” means that you are with one group of really talented people for a few months, and then you all go your separate ways on a new gig. I did the typical thing of having some tour romances – getting involved with guys I had nothing in common with, except the fact that they were, well – THERE, but then I learned not to fall prey to the “add water and mix” relationships that being on tour lends itself too. In this way, never being home was easy. For I LOVED, AND LOVE exploring - getting up early, rather than staying up later after a show was my thing, and I would roam the cities and places I was in – museums, shops, local dance studios, parks, hidden restaurants – I was fascinated by it all. In addition, I couldn’t get enough of hotel living – I mean, you leave your room, and somebody makes your bed – there was cable TV, when in my apartment in NYC I had a television that barely worked, there was a gym right down stairs, and room and laundry service if I wanted it – for someone who has problems even remembering to wash out the glass I just had my ice tea in – this is paradise. And the kicker was, I was getting paid – to perform and travel – SERIOUSLY – how cool was that??? My passions coming together in one beautiful experience, and I had the frequent flyer miles to prove it!! But then, something happened – something that I really and truly didn’t think would happen to me – I fell in love. I wasn’t brought up with the notion: who will you marry? My parents drummed into our heads: what will you do? So when Jimmy asked me out that first time, I was thinking:1) he’s a stage hand, not an performer, so that’s good 2) I was doing a show in NJ, so I was home with my more or less usual life, so this wasn’t an “instant relationship” 3) He’s got red hair, and that’s rare!!! But, I was NOT thinking, “This man is the love of my life, and is going to make me hate getting on a plane for work, because I’m going to feel like my guts are being ripped out, and like I’m a three year old lost in an amusement park without their parents!!” But that’s exactly what did happen. Having met me “on the job”, and having worked in theatre his whole career, Jimmy knew what my life was like. Just a few months after we started dating, I was off on the road for four months. This was WAY before skype or even email, so good old fashioned phone calls were the thing, and he would almost always come out and visit me. I was still grateful and happy to be performing and traveling, but now, I was leaving something – someone, behind, and instead of never wanting the job to end, I began to count the days, the minute my plane left the gate. I discovered storytelling, and clowning shortly after we got serious, and the new creative challenges of those things, plus the ability to better control my schedule (no more – the job starts next week in Kansas City – GO!!), helped me make the decision to “come off the road”. This new chapter in my life has proven GLORIOUS – I have the most important things in life: a man I love, and who treats me WAY better than I deserve to be treated, AND performance opportunities that are creative, fun, serve people, and allow me to be at home – AND travel. Because in this phase of my life, I have gone INTERNATIONAL!! Through my clowning work I got to Paris, and then Jimmy joined me and we vacationed in London and Amsterdam. I’ve danced with my comedy dance partner at a clowning festival in China, and I’ve had the honor of performing and teaching circus and physical comedy skills with Clowns Without Borders in Haiti, twice. And now – Argentina!!! I have to admit that when I got the first email from Dream On Productions about telling stories in English to kids just learning English in Argentina, I thought it was some kind of a scam. But, after Jimmy and I researched it, and saw it was on the up and up, my bag began to pack. As always, my excitement was tempered by the fact that it was three weeks, and we weren’t sure at first if Jimmy would be able to come – he had missed out on my China adventure, and I regret that I can only describe what the “stinky tofu” smelled like to him, and that he didn’t get a whiff of it himself (it’s odd what memories you come back with!!) But when we figured out that he would be able to come for two of my three weeks – I felt myself fill with ease. And so, here I am on the first leg of my flight to Argentina, I began writing this to stem the tears that came to my eyes the moment I was on one side of the security gate and he was on another. Even though he will be at my side in five days, and I will be doing what I love, performing, and traveling, I know I will not be at my best, until my husband is at my side. But, I suppose that is a good thing, a great thing really, because as much as I love to entertain, amuse, and even educate people, as much as I adore seeing the world, it is nice to know that in my heart, the topmost and deepest region is ruled not by my career(s) or my interests, but by my love for my husband, Jim.

NOTES FROM THE FIELD:From Pre-Schoolers to Prisoners

(KEEP SCROLLING DOWN FOR MY UPCOMING PERFORMANCES - SPOILER ALERT - I'M HEADED TO SOUTH AMERICA!!) Thanks to two AMAZING projects, I have had the opportunity, several times this spring, to tell stories to pre-schoolers and to incarcerated teen age boys on the same day! The lessons that both groups have taught me are as varied as one would imagine, but more than anything, these experiences have shown me, for the millioneth time, the power of folktales, the commonality of people, and that kids are kids are kids – no matter whatever age. For both of these, as a teller, I must be engaged, and ready for anything. Both of these populations can spot a phoney a mile away. And while the teenager who is doing “time” may cut his eyes at you, and the pre-schooler may begin to run around the room, or actually get up in front of you, as if to say,”I can do this better than you!” - both of these reactions signal the same thing – they see that I am being tentative, they see they I may fear them, they see that not every part of me is prepared to give my all to them in that very instant. And, that’s the beauty of storytelling – the teller – no matter who the audience is, should ALWAYS be that engaged, ALWAYS be that present. The part of me who is a yoga instructor, sometimes thinks I do my best teaching of yoga when I am telling stories, because I am all in, every bit of me is united, every bit of me is present. It has been a gift for me to do this work, because yes, there have been days for both groups, where, frankly, I walked into a charged situation – tension in the air, “acting out” apparent, the harsh reality that I was interrupting something else that the audience was way more into than the prospect of hearing folktales come out of my mouth. But, as Parker Palmer says in his luminous book “The Courage To Teach”, one can feel their fear, but not tell/teach/act from it. It’s in that moment, when the kid who looks like he’d rather be ANYWHERE in the world – even in his cell – than be sitting there with you, or the tiny soul, who looks a nanosecond from having a full blown “I WANT MY MOMMIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” tantrum - it’s then that I found, if I stayed the course, committed to the tale I had prepared, and did my best to respectfully communicate it with my audience – pre-schooler or prisoner, that is where storytelling “magic” occurred. That’s when the young man who’s head had been down on the table, voices his observations on a story – drawing a parallel between the tale and something he has heard or experienced. Or when the kid who’s been whirling around the room like a tornado, calms, sits, and listens with their full attention. Sometimes when I tell people about what I do, especially things like telling stories in prisons, their voices grow full of wonder, and they look at me like I was a taller Mother Theresa , and say, “That’s just WONDERFUL, what you do for those kids!!” But, I’m not foolish enough to believe for even a second that I’m the reason those kids become engaged – I may be the vessel, but what got those kids were the folktales that I am blessed and privileged enough to use as the material. Time and time again, I am amazed at the depth in even the simplest of tales, the way they speak to everyone; the lessons, and mysteries that they contain. That’s what draws in those pre-schoolers and prisoners alike. My job, then, is like that of a postal worker – to deliver these treasures in one piece - when they are most needed and wanted. Just as a mail carrier can’t keep a package they are set to deliver for their own, the tale isn’t “mine”, I’m only bringing it my audiences. Looking at storytelling this way, and serving these two diverse populations, fills me with something that I could use a whole lot more of – humility. It puts me much more in the mood of service; it allows me to see that whatever gifts I may have for this storytelling stuff , or anything else for that matter, are only truly fulfilled when I use them as Ghandi advised when he said, “The best way to find yourself, is to lose yourself in the service of others.” UPCOMING PERFORMANCES Here’s the BIG news: 6/11-6/29: STORYTELLING TOUR IN ARGENTINA WITH DREAM ON PRODUCTIONS!!!!!!!! I’ll be touring schools telling stories in English for students there – as well as tangoing and going to anything Evita related!! So,,, where is Julie when she’s not storytelling? She might be….Performing as Dr. Ima Confused, her character for the Big Apple Circus Clown Care hospital program at Harlem Hospital for the pediatric patients and their families.(More info on the circus below) Or, you could catch her stilt walking at any number of special events. And, of course, you might find her…teaching yoga at Devotion Yoga Studio in Hoboken, NJ - mostly Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, but some other times as well (more info on Devotion Yoga below)And, never forget that sometimes she’s cleaning chimneys – okay, not for real – but I just looking for an ending!!! Big Apple Circus Clown Care hospital program: is a community outreach program of the Big Apple Circus, an award winning presenter of live family entertainment and a leading not-for-profit performing arts institution. Using juggling, mime, magic, music, puppetry, storytelling and lots of improvisation, we are specially trained “doctors of delight” who bring the joy and excitement of the one ring circus to the bedsides of hospitalized children one to five days each week, year round, nationwide. As Meredith Vieira, our national spokesperson and honorary clown doctor, phrased it: From ringside to bedside! Clown Care makes “clown rounds,” a parody of medical rounds where humor is the prescribed treatment. As “clown doctors”, we are professional performers who work one-on-one with the children, their parents, and hospital staff to ease the stress of serious illness by reintroducing laughter and fun as natural parts of life. A national network of host hospitals, generous contributions and grants from individuals, foundations and corporations support Clown Care. Storytelling Arts: Here’s the organization I do a lot of storytelling residencies in schools with: They are dedicated to bringing the art of storytelling to underserved populations. Storytelling Arts works with schools and community organizations to bring the benefits of storytelling to a varied audience. Storytelling Arts programs serve to boost literacy and build community through: • Classroom residencies in schools • Professional development opportunities for teachers • Programs in community organizations • Educational services in juvenile detention centers Website: storytellingarts.net Devotion Yoga: Devotion Yoga is a community dedicated to creating a safe, peaceful, and non-competitive environment which offers individuals the opportunity to learn the practice of yoga through classes, workshops and related events. We are committed to providing high quality, inspiring, unique, and balanced programming that support our members in living a healthy and fulfilling life. Website: devotionyoga.com

UPCOMING PERFORMANCES

Ah – it’s school time, again – and many of my performances are in classrooms, assemblies, and residencies, so I can’t invite the general public to those. But, here are the ones you can come to.


April 2012:
4/11: North Branch Library, Newark, NJ 4:30PM
4/18: Branch Brook Library, Newark, NJ 10:30AM

May 2012:
5/8: Clinton Branch, Newark, NJ 3:30PM
5/15: Branch Brook Library, Newark, NJ 10:30AM
5/16: Van Buren Library, Newark, NJ 5:30PM

June 2012:
6/8: Branch Brook Library, Newark, NJ 10:30AM
6/11-6/29: STORYTELLING TOUR IN ARGENTINA WITH DREAM ON PRODUCTIONS!!!!!!!!

July 2012:
7/11: Northport Library, NY 3PM

August 2012:
8/1: Summit Library, NJ 3PM

So,,, where is Julie when she’s not storytelling?
She might be….Performing as Dr. Ima Confused, her character for the Big Apple Circus Clown Care hospital program at Harlem Hospital for the pediatric patients and their families.(More info on the circus below) Or, you could catch her stilt walking at any number of special events. And, of course, you might find her…teaching yoga at Devotion Yoga Studio in Hoboken, NJ - mostly Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, but some other times as well (more info on Devotion Yoga below)And, never forget that sometimes she’s cleaning chimneys – okay, not for real – but I just looking for an ending!!!

Big Apple Circus Clown Care hospital program:
is a community outreach program of the Big Apple Circus, an
award winning presenter of live family entertainment and a leading
not-for-profit performing arts institution.
Using juggling, mime, magic, music, puppetry, storytelling and lots of
improvisation, we are specially trained “doctors of delight” who bring the
joy and excitement of the one ring circus to the bedsides of hospitalized
children one to five days each week, year round, nationwide. As Meredith
Vieira, our national spokesperson and honorary clown doctor, phrased it:
From ringside to bedside! Clown Care makes “clown rounds,” a parody of
medical rounds where humor is the prescribed treatment. As “clown doctors”,
we are professional performers who work one-on-one with the children, their
parents, and hospital staff to ease the stress of serious illness by
reintroducing laughter and fun as natural parts of life.
A national network of host hospitals, generous contributions and grants from
individuals, foundations and corporations support Clown Care.


Storytelling Arts: Here’s the organization I do a lot of storytelling residencies in schools with: They are dedicated to bringing the art of storytelling to underserved populations. Storytelling Arts works with schools and community organizations to bring the benefits of storytelling to a varied audience. Storytelling Arts programs serve to boost literacy and build community through:
• Classroom residencies in schools
• Professional development opportunities for teachers
• Programs in community organizations
• Educational services in juvenile detention centers
Website: storytellingarts.net
Devotion Yoga: Devotion Yoga is a community dedicated to creating a safe, peaceful, and non-competitive environment which offers individuals the opportunity to learn the practice of yoga through classes, workshops and related events. We are committed to providing high quality, inspiring, unique, and balanced programming that support our members in living a healthy and fulfilling life.
Website: devotionyoga.com

NOTES FROM THE FIELD "IS IT TRUE??"

A few months ago I heard a word I just fell in love with at first hearing – phenomenology – meaning to take something, no matter how fantastic, how outrageous, how out of the norm, as the God’s honest truth. I remember the face of the man who proposed this concept of phenomenology – he gazed out at the audience expecting to see an ocean of raised eyebrows, and skeptical frowns. And, I imagine he saw them, but not from me. No, from me, he got a big old grin, a head wag that practically made my noggin fall off, and a silent hug of gratitude for putting into words what I had always felt.
I don’t know why I have always believed in the impossible, but I have. Pots of gold at the end of the rainbow – of course, unicorns – why not, magical wish granting lamps – there’s one right next store, isn’t there?? Long before I read that Native Americans thought there was a spirit in all things, I talked to trees, flowers, and cars. I saw “colors” around people for ages before I heard the word “aura”. That people could see the future by looking at your hands, a pack of cards, or gazing at a crystal ball, has always seemed perfectly logical to me – I mean, why not????
A hundred years ago, if someone said there was a little machine that could send and receive messages you could hear, as well as read, and that this same device could also play music, and take a photograph – wouldn’t that have seemed unreal? Or that there existed something in outer space that could tell you where the closest place to go to the bathroom or find something to eat here on earth – how could that really be? A platypus, on paper, doesn’t sound like it could possibly be anything more than a figment of someone’s highly active imagination, but there, in the land that also hosts the kangaroo, and the kiwi, they are real as can be.
We know that towering dinosaurs once existed, so why couldn’t there have been the giant people that inhabit some of the folktales I read and tell? Science tells us that animals communicate with each other, so maybe there was a time when – because we were more part of nature, rather than a destroyer of it – that we could understand, and speak with dogs, cows, cats and horses. To paraphrase Frank Church in his famous “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” letter – things aren’t Unreal just because we don’t see them. I mean, look at air – although with pollution, it actually is getting easier to see! And, I believe the Little Prince was right when he said, “What’s essential is invisible to the eye.”
Maybe it’s just me, but living with a sense of “Why not?” as opposed to “It can’t possibly be!” is a lot more fun! It allows for awe, for surprises, for a life bigger, wilder, more colorful and bold, than the average, everyday – “if I can’t touch, taste, smell or feel it, it’s total fiction!” kind of life. Sometimes, the places, people, and events in the tales I tell seem more real to me than the things I see in my day to day comings and goings. And it’s those stories that inspire me to find in my everyday life - while I’m doing the dishes, or taking out the garbage, or waiting to get my taxes done (that’s where I am now!) - the magic, the adventure, the courage, and the wisdom that is embedded in the ancient folktales I love so very much.

NOTES FROM THE FIELD

HIGHLIGHTS OF 2011
(KEEP SCROLLING DOWN FOR UPCOMING PUBLIC PERFORMANCES)
As I sat and watched all the programs that wrapped up the year that was this week – documenting everything from the best movies, to the craziest youtube videos – I began to think about what my storytelling highlights of 2011 would be. One of the beauties of storytelling is that each performance is unique, while I could tell stories I’ve told before, or perform in a venue that I’ve been in before – there will always be something different each telling, something special, that sets that time apart from any other. So, with that in mind, it’s awfully hard to pinpoint a “top ten” list. But, here, in no particular order or some moments from my 2011 storytelling year.
1)Telling at the Homer Alaska Library - In September I was able to not only see my 49th state (Hawaii, you’re next!), but also to tell at the lovely Homer Library. We were on vacation, but I walked up to the librarian, and asked if I could tell a story or two, and she said yes! It was amazing!
2)Developing long, intense stories for the young men and women at the Morristown Youth Detention Center - This work has helped me to grow in more ways than I can describe. It has caused me to leave behind the part of myself that always goes for the laugh –that sometimes will sacrifice substance for “faster and funnier” – and has developed in me the courage to tell stories where things don’t get wrapped up in a neat, little bow, and that really cause a person to think. In addition, meeting these young people reminded me that all an incarcerated person is, is someone who has made a mistake.
3)Doing a residency in an English as a second language class - Two times a month I get the privilege, to tell stories for middle schoolers who are doing something so very, very hard – starting over in a country and culture that is not their own, entering the tween and teen years, which are difficult enough, while trying to learn a English – which, let’s face it folks, does not make a lot of sense a lot of the time. How I love the way the room goes silent as I tell, and how delighted they are when the story is from their native land.
4)Being my sister’s Christmas gift for the fourth straight year - A few years ago, I realized, of all the classrooms I had been in, one that I hadn’t set foot in was my sister’s, who has taught first grade FOREVER. So now, each year, I give my storytelling to her class as a present. While it is always fun, and has brought us closer, this year was particularly fun because I got there early, and got to see her teach. My sister was magical – warm and organized, firm and funny – and it was AWESOME to see her doing what she loves, and is oh, so good at.
5)Visiting the Newark Libraries to tell stories about saving money and recycling to PRE-SCHOOLERS – Yes, you read that right – financially responsible stories for pre-schoolers. As part of a grant from the bank PNC, I had the opportunity to begin to introduce concepts like saving, sharing, and recycling to the most ADORABLE pre-schoolers in Newark. I loved the challenge of finding age appropriate tales that would fill this mission, and then being able to entertain, and educate eighty or so four year olds. The way they would chant “Recycle!!!!” at me, still makes me smile.

Those are only some of the moments that made me thankful that storytelling is a part of my life, and as I begin 2012, I can only guess where my personal story will lead next. Happy New Year!!!

UPCOMING PERFORMANCES
Ah – it’s school time, again – and many of my performances are in classrooms, assemblies, and residencies, so I can’t invite the general public to those. But, here are the ones you can come to.


February 2012
2/1: Barnegut Branch, NJ 4PM
2/1: Little Egg Branch, NJ 6:30PM
2/2: Grounds for Sculpture, Hamilton, NJ 10:15, 11:15, 12:15
2/4: Manchester Branch, NJ 2PM
2/9: Hoboken Library, NJ 3:30 PM
2/11: Bernards Township Library, NJ 11AM
2/14: North Plainfield Library, NJ 3:30PM
2/15: Stafford Branch, NJ 4PM
2/15: Toms River, NJ 4PM
2/21: Garden City Public Library, NY 11AM, 2PM
2/28:East Orange Library, 6:30PM
2/29: West Orange Library, NJ 7PM

June 2012:
STORYTELLING TOUR IN ARGENTINA WITH DREAM ON PRODUCTIONS!!!!!!!!
So…where is Julie when she’s not storytelling?
She might be….Performing as Dr. Ima Confused, her character for the Big Apple Circus Clown Care hospital program at Harlem Hospital for the pediatric patients and their families.(More info on the circus below) Or, you could catch her stilt walking at any number of special events. And, of course, you might find her…teaching yoga at Devotion Yoga Studio in Hoboken, NJ - mostly Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, but some other times as well (more info on Devotion Yoga below)And, never forget that sometimes she’s cleaning chimneys – okay, not for real – but I just looking for an ending!!!

Big Apple Circus Clown Care hospital program:
is a community outreach program of the Big Apple Circus, an
award winning presenter of live family entertainment and a leading
not-for-profit performing arts institution.
Using juggling, mime, magic, music, puppetry, storytelling and lots of
improvisation, we are specially trained “doctors of delight” who bring the
joy and excitement of the one ring circus to the bedsides of hospitalized
children one to five days each week, year round, nationwide. As Meredith
Vieira, our national spokesperson and honorary clown doctor, phrased it:
From ringside to bedside! Clown Care makes “clown rounds,” a parody of
medical rounds where humor is the prescribed treatment. As “clown doctors”,
we are professional performers who work one-on-one with the children, their
parents, and hospital staff to ease the stress of serious illness by
reintroducing laughter and fun as natural parts of life.
A national network of host hospitals, generous contributions and grants from
individuals, foundations and corporations support Clown Care.


Storytelling Arts: Here’s the organization I do a lot of storytelling residencies in schools with: They are dedicated to bringing the art of storytelling to underserved populations. Storytelling Arts works with schools and community organizations to bring the benefits of storytelling to a varied audience. Storytelling Arts programs serve to boost literacy and build community through:
• Classroom residencies in schools
• Professional development opportunities for teachers
• Programs in community organizations
• Educational services in juvenile detention centers
Website: storytellingarts.net
Devotion Yoga: Devotion Yoga is a community dedicated to creating a safe, peaceful, and non-competitive environment which offers individuals the opportunity to learn the practice of yoga through classes, workshops and related events. We are committed to providing high quality, inspiring, unique, and balanced programming that support our members in living a healthy and fulfilling life.
Website: devotionyoga.com