gym

It might be MY bacon year…

Posted on by cfox61

6 degrees of Carol’s bacon-separation…

I swear, it seems over the years, that there isn’t anyone that doesn’t know someone that knows someone who knows someone who I know and who knows me and who either loves, likes or hates me and who I either love, like or hate. Take a breath…seriously.

Ironically, or not, I despise bacon as such. Not THE Kevin Bacon, you understand.  The smell, the taste, the name…just everything about bacon, but my life resembles the BACON PRINCIPLE.

It’s a tad terrifying. Is that a sign? I think not. Bacon is not the metaphor for my comparison. But the Bacon Principle alone. And, I am pretty sure I almost stand alone in my dislike and almost hatred of the fried and cured pig.

When you live in a place for a great number of years, and you have a business that connects people through its association, you will, inevitably, know someone who knows someone…well, you know…

In closing, my statement is:

We are not alone. We are not singular. We are not anonymous. We are here. We are real. We are seen, loved, known, forgotten, ignored, dismissed, admired, judged, envied, belied, abused, revered, praised, exhausted…and so on…

WE. ARE.

That’s all. and that’s everything.

 

Success…it’s all relative…

Posted on by cfox61

Tonight I want to talk about success. Not as it relates to monetary acquisition but more as it relates to emotional and spiritual acquisition.

So, you ask ? “what exactly do you mean?”

Personal success for me has been centered around the intangible gratification of my artistic contributions. Yes, I have been paid…sporadically and inconsistently for my work. But, that has been inconsequential to my well being. I have certainly, and morosely, over obsessed about the lack of financial infusion to my bank accounts, but that has not pre determined my dedication to the project at hand. Each year that passes,  I consider the fact that I have not contributed to a 401(k) or some other pre-destined retirement plan. I wonder if I should be really worried…and then, I forget that I thought about it at all.

My point is that success is determined by those who own it.

I own it.

Do you?

jUst WoRk IT ouT

Posted on by cfox61

Recently, I was given a gym membership as a gift. I was thrilled. The idea that I could potentially transform this post menopausal dancer’s body into a work of art was entrancing. Mind you, I’ve never really exercised in this sense. Almost every day of my life, since the age of 5, has been devoted to my daily regime of plies, tendus and various motions with the intent of moving to music. Not exercise. Dance. Joy. Pain. The Zone. Nirvana. 

I’m game. Let’s do this gym thing. Ha!

I think, these machines are the enemy. I need an ally. Yes. Personal trainer-my crutch. I feel ridiculous. Intimidated. These gym people know what they are doing. And they are serious. And I am paralyzed and awkward.

How is it that, for almost 5 decades I have performed and taught in front of hundreds of thousands of people, that I now am so self conscious about being in the middle of the gym, in front of all these professional gym people and doing gym things, that I feel ‘stage fright’…really? I don’t think I’ve felt like this since I wasn’t chosen to be on ANY team during PE in 4th grade!

Once my trainer sessions are up…only 2 left…then what? I’m terrified. Taking off the training wheels is going to be like a C-section for me. But, I am motivated by the desire for my 23 year old gluteus maximus and striationous thighs. Count down to trainer weening…I. Can. Do. This. i think…or I could just go dancing…