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.