daca, driving, and also dancing

daca, driving, and also dancing

Last Thursday night, a few of us from the community had dinner with a few DACA students currently attending The University of Colorado.


We listened as the students shared stories of how their families came to this country, how old they were when they arrived, what they were studying in school, internships they’d held over the summer, and hopes and fears they had for the future.


Two sisters from Mexico — the older one who is a DACA recipient and the younger one who was born here — spoke about the different paths their future’s hold, not because of dreams, ambitions, and desires, but because of who had been born on what side of the border.


Students from Mongolia, China, and Ecuador spoke about what would happen if DACA was rescinded.


The Anatomy of Improvisation. photo by Jun Akiyama of Kinisis Photography, 2017

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Wild Life

Wild Life

 know this is a newsletter about dancing, but there is so much wildlife happening here this summer, I can’t stand it!

1. Hummingbirds in the courtyard.

For the past month we have been watching hummingbird parents fly in and out of the nest they built, to sit on their eggs.


Recently the eggs cracked open and now the parents swoop in every half hour or so to feed the baby birds, whose beaks point straight up into the sky.  The babies open up their beaks and urgently reach when the mother or the father fly in to feed.


The nest the hummingbirds built is stunning:  there are bits of flower petals — yellow and purple — mixed in with the weeds and the grass.


2. Coyotes howling, wild turkey’s fighting, deer feasting, last summer the sighting of a moose (not this summer though, at least not yet), bunnies hopping, bob cats prowling, foxes darting, ravens roosting,


3. AND my most favorite moment of all (I'm soooooo jealous I missed it):


photo by Glen Kalen, 2017

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Women and Guns

Women and Guns

I am making 2 ginormous assumptions about the 400 or so of you who read this newsletter every week.

I assume that each and every one of you respects, cares about, and is kind to women.  True, yes?


I assume that you feel the same way about guns that I do.  I have no idea if this is true or not.


I am bringing this up because two things happened on my vacation last week related to these assumptions.

photo by Glen Kalen, 2017

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i've been thinking about you

I wonder how you are choosing to walk through the world after reading the news or not reading the news.I wonder how you are doing, hearing the first 12 minutes of this, as you hang the laundry.

I wonder and hope that you are going to dance class — because you must continue to go to dance class — even as you hear these first 12 minutes, and want to run, screaming into the streets.

Do run — screaming into the streets — but also:

Go to dance class.

We cannot let him take that away from us.

I wonder how you are moving in the world right now, in this moment in history.

I wonder where, and how, you are finding stillness.

I wonder if you are spinning.

I wonder if you are spiraling.

I wonder if you are sensing your weight — in space — as it shifts and drops, and then rises. It is difficult

to get the news from poems

Yet men die miserably every day

for lack

of what is found there

~ William Carlos Williams Katharine sent this me when I said "I don’t have time for poems right now."

I decided, then and there, to make time for poems. I've been thinking about you. I wonder how you've been doing. xo Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com

are you awake?

I am. The wind is blowing the house down.

So I’m up,

I’m giddy and unable to sleep because something woke up in me last Wednesday — right after I sent you that last newsletter.

That something has been groggily waking up for a long time now, but last week it got me sitting up straight, eyes wide open.

This thing I asked us to imagine?

It’s taking shape, in a way I couldn’t have imagined, and it’s moving fast.

I promised myself that this newsletter would be dedicated to what it’s always been dedicated to:

  • Dancing.
  • Creativity.
  • Imagination.
  • Our beautiful world.


I promised myself the new newsletter, the one I am sending out on Mondays, that it would be dedicated to:

  • Taking action.
  • Organizing.
  • Mobilizing.
  • Our beautiful world.

But thats misguided.

These things are the same.

They come from the same place and swim in the same body of water.


My longtime friend Kate is visiting.

(She’s sleeping upstairs as we speak).

Last night we stayed up late:  Envisioning, Dreaming of, and Wondering about this event I am putting together for January 8th.

After lots of conversation

(and cake.

and wine.

ice cream too),

Kate said:

“You're planning a dance class for January 8th.   Sure, it's taking on a different form, with different players.  And no, nobody will know it’s a dance class…it won’t even enter their mind.  But you’ll know:  You'll know that what you all are doing together is dancing."

She's right.

When people leave the event I am getting together for Sunday January 8th, I hope I don’t hear them say:

“Well, good.  I know exactly what to do now.  I have a plan.  Glad that's over and done with.”

I hope what I do hear them say is:

“Hmmmmmm…….we're just at the beginning, aren't we?"

*|FNAME|*, your Dance Mission is to enter into and engage with your experiences and your encounters this week by saying "hmmmmm.....is this a beginning?"

Just for practice.

Let me know how it goes. With Warmth, always, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com


Let's get together and...


What if we all meet — in the middle — to take our shoes off, sit on the floor and roll around for a bit, before beginning the work of dreaming the world we want to walk in.


What if we all meet —at dusk —to watch the moon rise, and to sing a hallelujah.


What if those who gather are artists and politicians, teachers and mail carriers, front desk workers and chiefs of police.


What if those who gather are dishwashers and lawyers, tribal leaders and midwives.


What if you and I and everyone else takes a deep breath, closes our eyes, and dreams.

I can’t help but think of the Defense Council in Starhawk’s book, The Fifth Sacred Thing, which I have mentioned before in this very newsletter.


Do you remember this Defense Council I am speaking of?


This Defense Council made up of all the old ladies who lived in Starhawk’s San Francisco?


They gathered every week to dream, journey, and drop into the deepest part of their collective imagination.


From that place they came up with the solutions and strategies that would ward off outside invaders who were forever threatening their way of life.


Can we do that?


Can we be the ones who imagine and dream a world beyond what we know?


Can we be the ones who catch each other as we fall and surrender into curiosity, inquiry, and delight?


Helga is my new favorite podcast.


It probes and queries into questions of art making.


Art making that includes falling.


Art making that includes surrender.


Art making that includes awakening, imagining, and dreaming.


On this darkest day of the year, have a cup of tea, curl up underneath a warm blanket, and take a listen to this.

1. If you do want to get together and dream about what our role is going to be in the unfolding of this moment in history, sign up here to be on the Taking Action Email List. There will be a gathering to imagine on January 8th, and I would love for you to be there.

If you want to take a Free Dance Class on Tuesday, January 10th and/or Thursday, January 12th from 10:15am-12:15pm and you haven't emailed me yet, email me:
"You heard my insides." -- student after taking a Free Dance Class             
If you are curious about the upcoming dance session, and want to take class on an on-going basis, email me too:

“I was deciding between seeing the Dali Lama and coming to class              today.   I choose class.  Me too!!” -- Simone and Suzzy, students who are currently taking class.

4. The next Dog Dance is on Friday, January 20th.

It will be the 9th showing of this work in an on-going series of performances

Come if you can.

It is also a place to imagine:

"Wonder.  I'm thinking about wonder."  -- Helen Turner, audience member. With Warmth, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com

A Naked Ballerina

A little boy came home from school and told his mom that his teacher had asked all of the kids in his class to come to school the next day, dressed as the thing they wanted to be when they grew up.  

His mother said,  “What are you going to dress up as?”


The little boy replied,  “A ballerina.”


The mother said, “Boys can’t wear tutus.”


The little boy said, “Oh.”

The next morning the mother told her son and her daughter to get dressed while she made breakfast.


The kids got ready and came into the kitchen.


The girl was dressed and the boy did not have any clothes on.


The mother said to her son,  “What in the world is going on?  Why aren’t you dressed yet?”


The little boy said,  “Today is the day we go to school dressed as what we want to be when we grow up.”


The mother said,  “And what would that be?”


The little boy said,  “A naked ballerina.”


With that, he lifted his arms over his head and pirouetted, leapt, and pas de bour·réed across the open space.


This story comes from a college classmate of mine --  he was the naked ballerina.


He told this story more than 20 years ago, and I still think about it sometimes.


That call, that yearning, that sense of self that propels us forward with or without a tutu wrapped around our waist.


It’s getting stronger, that call, for all of us, don’t you think?


Since the election, I can hear it in the night. It’s almost like a distant hum or a far away whisper that keeps saying over and over and over again, to all of us here on planet earth:


  • Be the naked ballerina.
  • Make that tiny tear in the order of things.
  • Re-wire the beginning.
  • Undo the ending.
  • Make space in the middle for a dance to come forth — a dance that we do not know and cannot understand —yet.


This dance in the middle, it is about being with the unknown. It’s about staying curious -- about everything. It’s about following the deepest part of your creative self. As that part of your being opens up and out, surfacing from the deep blue sea of you, things begin to fall and then land in new and thrilling configurations, patterns, and orientations.


Dig in.

Spend some time in this place of wonder.


When you do that  -- this dance that is in the middle  -- it will organically grow and deepen, creating a wide palette of synchronicity and grace that then becomes available to every single one of us .


This then feeds the capacity for listening, understanding, and empathy within the ensemble of this planet we call home.


Be the naked ballerina.


It’s time.


With Warmth on this Cold and Wintery Day, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com



I am currently starting a new email list that will be dedicated to taking strategic action and engaging with prudent organizing in response to this most recent election.

Sign-up here to be added to this email list.

2. It's time to take some FREE DANCE CLASSES:

Tuesday, January 10th And/OR Thursday, January 12th

10:15-12:15pm at The Boulder Circus Center

Email me if your interested in attending one or both of these classes.

Click here to learn more.

3. Dog Dance happens next Friday, December 16th.

1510 Zamia Avenues, #101 7pm $5

Hope to see you there.

xo jo


We must continue to gather.  

We must continue to practice and make time for what we value in our lives.


We must continue to meet each other.


We must continue to stand for one another.


We must continue to dream.


We must continue to show up, in the light.


We must continue to be bold.


We must continue to love.


We must continue to gather.


It is after midnight here in Colorado.


I promised myself I would sleep tonight, that I would turn off the computer and the phone, that I would stop watching the news, and that I would sleep.


But that is not what is happening.


I am wide awake and I am moving back and forth between my phone and my Facebook feed, between the NYTimes and FiveThirtyEight, and I cannot stop crying.


No matter how many deep breaths I take, or how many walks outside for a peek at the moon and the stars in the silence of this night up here on the hill, I cannot stop crying.


Except when I think about you.


When I think about you Joanna, and when I think about what I am going to say to you in the morning after this election, I stop crying and I start remembering that we are artists, you and I, and as artists we vision and we dream.


We break down the rules to find out what is underneath.


And we do that by gathering together to cry, to dance, to laugh, to share a meal, and to gaze at the moon.


We have no idea what will happen in the next few days or months.


We have no idea how things will unfold and play out.


We have no idea what is going to be called for as we meet what comes next.


So we must gather.


We must cast our spells.


We must continue to grow into ourselves and this world with presence, courage and love.


We must continue to stand with, and for each other with presence, courage and love.


We must meet whatever it is we are called to meet with presence, courage and love. Many of you have inquired and asked about the family emergency I mentioned a few weeks ago.


The update is that we are still in the throes of the emergency, though it has quieted a bit.


The actual “emergency” and the details of it are not mine to tell, so I won’t go into it here, but the results of this election have made it that much harder.


I am moving through it with less grace than I had hoped for, but I am still moving.


Thank you for your kind words and your well wishes.


I know that you too have been through a family emergency at some point, and that you may be going through a crisis yourself, right now, as you read this newsletter the day after the election.


You too are walking through the fire.


That in itself is the beginning of the gathering.


With love, in the early morning hours after the election. Joanna


This appeared in my inbox a few weeks back:


It’s by Paulette Fire, who has been taking class with me for a few years.

The beginnings of Paulette’s work came out of a bit of writing we did in class.

It’s worth a read, and then another.

I’m going to leave it there because it’s enough for today — to read this work, to pause, and then to read it again.

It’s enough for today — to wonder about the path your body takes through space and through time.

It’s enough for you to read this work, to lie down on the floor, to notice your breath, and to take a few minutes, or more, to follow the inevitable unfolding of your body in its fullest expression.

It’s enough to ground you in the moment as nothing else can, so that each generation may pass through, leaving traces of themselves that linger on our skin.

Before I go, I invite you to join me for the next installment of Dog Dance Day Dreams.

It happens this coming Friday, Oct 21st, 7pm, at Floorspace.

Dog Dance Day Dreams is an improvised solo I share with my community the third friday of each month with conceptual/directorial guidance by Andrew Marcus (The Disappearance Project).

Post your comments here.

With Warmth,



Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending


do-it-yourself dentistry

For the past two nights I have had the exact same dream:In the dream, I am the CEO of a very lucrative business called “Do-It-Yourself Dentistry” where subscribers pay $30 a month to learn how to fix their own teeth so that they never have to go to the dentist again. They receive dental instruments in the mail the first of each month as well as instructional videos every Monday teaching them how to hold a mirror in one hand, while scraping away tarter build-up in the other.

At 6 months, subscribers receive the Drill, and after a year subscribers get the Do-It-Yourself Oral Surgery Dental Extraction Kit. This is how my brain is dealing with the Presidential Election. How ‘bout you? But back to dancing: I received a postcard in the mail the other day from Linda Stonerock, who has been taking class with me since I started teaching waaaaay back in 2003. This is the quote she sent: “We reserve for art the power to transform, comfort, uplift, and inspire — to create in ourselves a state like grace.”  —- Jeff Macgregor, “The Art of the Impossible”. And this:  this is a video I recommend you watch, because I forget sometimes how much I love dance, concert dance that is done in an actual theater with thoughtful, intelligent and brilliant artists who are able to locate and place the work of dance in the broader context of current events and political activity. After watching the presidential debate on Sunday night I felt hungover, beaten up, and disoriented. It wasn’t until watching the video, especially the first few minutes, by the luminous Kyle Abrahams  and then reading the quote that Linda sent that I was able to come back to myself, and to remember who I am in the world, and how I am choosing to spend my time here on earth.

Your dance mission is a bit massive this week, so take your time, relax into what is unfolding, and notice what arises:

1.  Watch the video, especially that very first minute.

2.  Watch the video again, but this time dance with the dancers, in whatever way works for you.

NOTE: Don’t be a perfectionist right now!   Save that for the taxman.

Right now, all I I want you to do is to : Watch. Follow. Sense. Perceive. Listen.

Trust that you know exactly what you are doing and that what you are doing is exactly right for you. 

4.  Turn off the video and then dance, one more time. 5.  Get a drink of water and have a snack.

6.  Wonder about who you are in the world and how you are spending your time, here on earth while nibbling on said snack. Let me know how it goes, here or through a personal email.

Either works. With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com

PS: Dog Dance is now called Dog Dance Day Dreams and is happening on Friday, Oct 21st, 7pm at 1510 Zamia Avenue.

Looking forward to seeing you there.

xo jo


Are you Feral?

Last week, a friend called me feral. After we parted ways, she immediately sent an email explaining that when she said feral, she meant it in the “nicest possible fuzzy creature kind of way”, and she hoped I hadn’t taken offense at her remark.

No offense was taken.

A few months back, someone asked me where I teach.

I described the location, which is on the edge of town, in the last rural section of the city.

She said:  “Oh, you mean out in the fields?  That’s perfect for you!  That’s exactly where you belong.”

No offense taken there either, although I have no idea what she meant by that statement.

And so it goes, because to be perfectly honest, there is a part of me that doesn’t quite get the nuance of living in this world in a way that is expected and understood.

Most of the time I don’t ever think about this:  I am living and working, taking the beagle for her walks every day, and taking my nephew out for a hamburger and a drive in the mountains.

Minding my own business, basically.

But sometimes I wonder…am I missing something?

Is everyone else around me understanding, seeing, or getting something about this human experience that I am not?

Is that why I belong “out in the fields”?

I’m really bad at the elevator speech thing, and when I'm asked about what I do, I mumble something about dancing, and then try to change the subject as quickly as possible because the word “dance” is so loaded with people’s preconceptions, and I don’t have the language to break it down in a minute and a half while riding on the elevator.

I’m trying to get better at this though, and so the other night when a friend’s father was in town and he asked me what I do, I took a breath and repeated the elevator speech I have been working on, which includes the words dancing, improvising, presence, imagination, and curiosity,

The friends father latched onto the word dancing and said:

“So you and your friends come up with some dance steps that match the rhythm of the music your using?   That sounds like a nice way to pass the time. Good for you for finding something to do that you enjoy.  I bet you girls pick out great costumes for your shows.”








so I stammer,   “Um, no.  That’s not what I said, I….”

He turns to Glen -- who has missed this entire exchange -- before I have finished my sentence, and the two of them begin a conversation about Glen’s next furniture project:  two conference tables made of Claro Walnut.

I sip my bubbly water with lime and feel like the wife from “The Hours”.

As I continue to research and navigate my way through this dancing life, I am trying, in a huge and ginormous way, to be myself —totally —and if that means being feral, it means being feral, and if that means working out in the fields, than that means working out in the fields.

It is what it is what it is.

There was a moment, a few months back, after one of my Dog Dances, when I woke up the next morning and felt a kind of freedom I have never felt before.

I felt so solid in what I was doing, that I moved through those few hours with a lightness and a grace that I haven’t matched since.

I caught a glimmer of the power and freedom that comes from following what needs to be followed whether or not it “fits” into any expectations or societal norms.

In that instance the clamor of voices in my head quieted, and I dropped into myself.

For those few hours, I made my way through the world with an acute awareness of what was going on around me.

There was no judgement there, I was simply aware -- and I was feral.

Your Dance Mission For The Week is to catch those moments when you drop into your own “feralness”.

What does it feel like?

How does it show up throughout your day?

What do you perceive and experience in this state?

Let me know how it goes,  and share this newsletter, if you wish.


If you are in or around Boulder, CO this Friday, Sept 16th, stop on by and see the very first Dog Dance of the Season:

Conceptual/Directorial Guidance provided by:
Hosted and Supported by: Julie Rothschild of Floorspace

Dog Dance is a burrowing into the skin. It is a query into what lays in wait. It is a memory. It has always been there, underneath the dirt. Waiting to be unearthed, rooted out, remembered, and seen.

Friday, Sept 16th 7pm at Floorspace: 1510 Zamia Ave, #101. $5.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com

Middle Age

“Who you actually are, and who you think you are suppose to be — THE GAP BETWEEN THOSE TWO THINGS— that’s where disappointment and bitterness live”. I heard someone say this, I don’t know who, on the radio as I was driving home last Saturday night.

In fits and starts, with grunts of pain and howls of uncertainty, this gap is starting to close.

It’s getting smaller, every single day.

I think that’s what happens when one becomes “middle aged.”

Besides the fact that:

Perimenopause is now a word I use in day to day conversation. For the first time I am having pain in my body that I can’t ignore and shake off like every other pain I have ever had. A little girl said, “Excuse me. You, with the old lady hair” the other day, and it took her saying it 3 times before I realized I was the one with “the old lady hair”. I had a pile of dirty laundry I almost dropped into the toilet rather than the laundry basket this morning. I can’t read ingredients, menus, or instructions without squinting,

Besides all of that, I think that swimming in the age during this middle time has been quite a relief, precisely because this gap between “who I actually am” and “who I think I am suppose to be” is getting smaller.

In dancing, this means I am following a thread of curiosity that is unspooling before me from a place that is so deep inside of me that the thread is not actually coming from me.

It is coming from a much more intimate place than that.

In a certain sense this thread I am following, it has nothing to do with me or my body or the space surrounding me.

Instead, I think it has to do with what’s been forgotten.

It has to do with what’s been brushed over and left behind.

I have been told over and over again to stop moving the way that I do:

To stop dancing this way, or that way. To speed up, or slow down. To hold that line. To look up and out, rather than down or in. To stop dancing all together, it’s just not in the cards.

I’ve listened. I’ve nodded. I’ve followed all of the above in one way or another.

But in this middle age of mine — with my aches and pains, my grey hair and my eyes that can no longer read the fine print — I am unable to follow this advice any longer, precisely because it cuts to the core of who I actually am as opposed to who I am suppose to be.

I’m doing what I’m doing in the way I am doing it because it is exactly who I am at this moment in time, and I am unable to make any compromises regarding who I am, what I am interested in and intrigued by, and what I value in this life any longer.

That part of myself that used to be able to comply and bend to meet someone else’s expectations of me?

She has left the room and she isn’t coming back.

But the part that has stayed?

She is listening as closely as she can to what is bubbling up and arising, within her and outside of her.

And she is following that, no matter what, and no matter where it leads, because a world is being created that has never been created before.

But maybe that's wrong.

Maybe that world has been created over and over and over again, and it is only now that she has the patience and the where with all to experience it and take it in, as is.

She is following this slow unfolding of a new world or an old world, whichever it may be, because it feels like running naked, in a warm rain, in the hills and among the wildflowers, when no one else is around, on a summer afternoon, forever and ever.

That’s the part that has been forgotten.

That’s the part that has been left behind.

So this dance, it is about remembering.

Your Dance Mission for the Week is to find those parts of yourself that have been forgotten and brushed aside.

Give those parts the space and time they require to bubble up, arise, and unfold in whatever way that they do. to create a new world or an old world, for as long as it takes to create.

Follow the making of this world with curiosity and breath.

Notice if the gap between who you actually are and who you think you are suppose to be, notice if it begins get smaller.

And then, let me know how it goes.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com

PS! ONLY ONE MORE FREE DANCE CLASS UNTIL NEXT YEAR! Tomorrow, Thursday, Sept 8th from 11-1pm at The Boulder Circus Center.

Sign up to Dance with me in the fall Fall session runs from Sept 13th-Dec 15th, 2016

Dog Dance: The 3rd Friday of every month starting in September. The first one is on Friday, Sept 16th at 7pm at  Floorspace: 1510 Zamia Drive, #101. $5

xo jo

The Hamsters Are Back

When my nephew was in 6th grade, he asked his teacher about the constant whirring sound he was hearing in the ceiling above the classroom.  

His teacher said, with a wink, that it was the hamsters, who lived in the ceiling of the school, running and running and running, in their little hamster wheels, to keep the lights on in the classroom.


My nephew missed the wink.

I missed the wink, and for a few days both of us were mesmerized by the vision of thousands of hamsters, running, to create a vital source of alternative energy for his school.


It was only when I wondered aloud about the intricacies of this innovative and cutting-edge method of keeping the lights on, that my ever intrepid partner Glen, steered me back to reality.


But sometimes:


When I am in that delectable state of surrender,


When I am waiting, noticing, and following the dance that is emerging, both from within me and outside of me,


When I hear the sounds of the world around me:  a dog barking, someone talking on their phone, a baby crying, the clicking of the computer keys, the birthday party next door, someone making a deal with someone else, across an ocean,


I understand that it is me who is the hamster in the ceiling, running.


I understand that it is the dancers, painters, singers and writers who are the hamsters in the ceiling - running and running and running - making sure that the lights stay on.


Let’s be the hamsters right now, you and I.


You know, and I know about the fear and the greed that is taking hold of The United States at this very moment.


You know, and I know that this fear, this greed, has the potential to strangle and twist our humanity into something unrecognizable.


Let’s be the kind of hamsters that are willing to do the work of keeping the lights on, so that when it is dark, we can use that time to rest and dream, with ease, contentment, and tranquility.


I’ve got my hamster running shoes on, do you?


I’m gonna start my run how I always start my run these days:


By lying down on the floor to give my nervous system a rest, as I wait to be moved by a dance that I cannot understand, and will not know until it begins.


"May we all move freely some day in bodies that are authentic and vulnerable and valued."  Said Margaret Harris, one of my first ever dance students, who began dancing with me 13 years ago when I first started teaching.

Margaret moved to Wyoming a few years ago, and I miss her terribly. As I begin my hamster run this morning by lying on the floor, feeling my body against the earth, waiting to be moved, I will let Margaret’s words wash over me, imprint on me, and descend into my bones.


Your Dance Mission for the Week is to put on your hamster running shoes, and wait.


Lie on the floor, notice your breath, and wait until you are moved to dance.


Wait as long as you need to wait.


Don’t hurry it along.


Don’t make it something it is not out of fear or anxiety.


Just wait.


The dance will emerge in it’s own time, and when it does - go.


Share this newsletter far and wide, so that we are not the only hamsters working to keep the lights on.


With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com

PS's for Today:

Free Dance Classes Coming Up Soon! Tuesday, Sept 6th and/or Thursday, Sept 8th from 11-1pm at The Boulder Circus Center. Let me know if you plan on being there, and feel free to bring a friend along.

Sign up to Dance with me: Click here. Dog Dance: The 3rd Friday of every month starting in September. More Info Coming as we get closer to the start date.

xo jo

Yes. I'm saying yes.


You know those dreams, the ones you have over and over and over again?


What are those called?


Oh yeah, reoccurring dreams:


  • The one where your teeth are pouring out of your mouth.
  • The one where you keep dialing the wrong number on your phone, in the middle of an emergency.
  • The one where you are driving, and suddenly you go blind, or suddenly you have no brakes, or both.
  • The one where you are sliding down a slanted roof and can’t stop the sliding that is getting faster and faster.
  • The one where you are back in high school.  You have to do all of your coursework again.  And you forgot your clothes.
  • The one where you keep dropping the baby, over and over and over again.

Those dreams…do you have those kinds of dreams?


I had a few of them last night.

What a a relief to wake up this morning and realize I do not have to take an Algebra test in my underwear.


I checked the mirror, first thing, and all my teeth were in tact.


I have a lot of these reoccurring dreams that I can’t seem resolve.


I also have a lot of reoccurring conversations too, and one of those did get resolved, fairly recently.


It’s a conversation I've had here actually, in this newsletter, quite a bit.

It's about art.

Is art frivolous or is it essential?


Especially right now, in this moment in history, with everything that is going on in the world, with all of the different directions our futures may take, where does art and art making fit in?


As all the madness, fear, anger, lack of vision, and violence continues to unfold before our stunned and devastated eyes, something is settling and coming to rest at the core of my being.


And that is this:  art is enough.


It is more than enough.


Without it, we would be lost -- as a people, a society, a culture, and a world.


Last Wednesday night, Glen and I took our nephew, Mikey, to see Twenty One Pilots at Red Rocks Amphitheater.


If you don’t know — and I surely would not know unless I had a 14 year-old nephew keeping me up to date on all things pop — Twenty One Pilots is a Pop/Punk/Rock Band made up of two young guys named Tyler and Josh.


Their songs are all over the radio right now.


And Tyler and Josh were pretty good.


They were excellent actually.


When you have a sold out theater of 10,000 people singing songs together, dancing, and waving cellphones in the air, and when that theater is filled with all kinds of people - young, old, straight, gay, black, brown, white - that’s something. That's a reminder about the potential of art to elevate and bring out the best in all of us.


We had a young lesbian couple sitting in front of us (I would guess they were about 15 or 16 years old) making out for most of the show.


They were surrounded on both sides by groups of bulky chested, arm pumping kind of guys. I was a little scared for these two young girls exploring their sexuality so publicly while being surrounded by guy guy kind of guys.


I was on alert, ready to pounce if anything went awry or any words were exchanged.


Nothing happened.


The girls continued to kiss, and they were safe to explore this new found love as the rest of us held the space:  singing, dancing, and doing the wave.


The choreography of the evening unfolded with precision, beauty, and good feelings all around.


When I asked Mikey why people like this band so much, he said:  “Because they get us.  They understand what we are feeling.”


There you go:


Art reflecting humanity, and art reflecting where we are now, right at this moment in time.


If this pop/punk band is able to distill the nuance of longing, confusion, loneliness, love, friendship, and beauty;  and in doing so, they see us  -- the audience -- and they are in relationship with us  --  the audience -- through it all, so that 10,000 of us are lifted up, for a few hours on a summer night in the mountains of Colorado?


Then that's art, and that is essential to our humanity, our knowing, and our understanding of the world.


That experience at Red Rocks is in all of us who were that night, waving our cell phones in the air, back and forth, back and forth.


All that light.


The world, as you know, is precarious right now.


I do not need to list all that has been unfolding recently, and all that will continue to unfold in ways we cannot foresee.


What I can say though, with certainty, is that whatever and however it all unfolds, I know that art and art making will be paramount in the reflection of this unfolding, in this moment in history.


Art and art making will be central to marking down all that must be named and cannot be forgotten.


Our neighbor has a bumper sticker that says “Art Saves Lives.”


I was always a little bit like “Well, does it though?”


I’ve changed my tune.


Art does Save Lives.


It has saved and uplifted mine, many many times.


I know that the band we saw last Wednesday night has saved and uplifted many lives that have been lost, uncertain, and alone.


All that light.


Is art enough?




I'm saying yes.


Continue on your path.


You must.


Our world is too scary, too unsteady right now for you not to.


Stay the course.


We need you to say the truth.

We need you to be one of the many threads that are a reflection of our humanity — the good and the bad — in this moment in time.


Your Dance Mission for the week is to notice the art that is all around you, all the time, and to consider how this art you are seeing and experiencing is a reflection of our humanity right now.


In the fabric of your clothes, the spontaneous dances in the streets, the murals on the walls, the books you read, the music and podcasts you listen to, the tv and movies you watch:

  • Why is this kind of art happening now?
  • Why is it needed?
  • What is it saying?
  • Who and what is it reflecting?
  • What kind of art will be needed in 10, 20, 100 years?

Most importantly, what kind of art is needed right now?

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com


This past Saturday I hosted and facilitated a Dance Vacation up at my house.

After the dancing, we were all sitting in the courtyard together, looking out across the valley, talking, sharing, schmoozing, laughing, eating.

Abi said:  “Uh-oh, I see smoke.”

I said:  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Abi said: “I don’t think so, I think there’s a fire…a big one.”

I said:  “Na…it must be a controlled burn.  No need to worry.”

“On a hot and windy day, in the middle of the summer, you think they would schedule a controlled burn?

“Sure! Why not?  Pass the Kale Salad please.”

And we went back and forth like this for a few minutes, Abi concerned and correct in her assessment, me being in complete denial about the situation unfolding before us.

There is a fire that is currently blazing across the valley from where I live that started on Saturday, as Abi observed.

8 homes have been destroyed at this point, and I heard a few pets have been lost in the flames as well.

As this fire was burning, right in front of me,  I sat in denial and stubbornly refused to acknowledge what was going on.


What happened to my brain at that moment?

Why could Abi see the event clearly, and I saw it in a haze of denial?

I have no idea.

I’m embarrassed that I was more focused on the kale salad than on the smoke billowing up in front of my eyes.

I keep thinking I need to email everyone who came to the Dance Vacation to let them know I made a mistake about the fire, that I should have jumped up out of my seat when Abi saw the smoke to check the website you check for these sorts of things and then confirmed that yes, there was a forest fire burning across the valley from where we sat, peacefully eating our lunch.

But I didn’t do that.

I shrugged.

I changed the subject.

I ate more kale as the fire burned.

I teach a once a week dance class in the day care center at the gym I go to, as a trade for my membership there.

The other day, as I was gathering the little ones in a circle, I overheard of one of the older kids who comes to my class each week - she’s about 5 years-old I think - say to the 2 and 3 year-olds:  “Hold onto your hats guys, she’s a funny one” and all these little eyeballs turned toward me, waiting to see what would happen next.

That made me laugh, because I love that she said “Hold onto your hats”,  but it also made me wonder:  Am I a funny one?

I don’t feel so funny these days.

I feel subdued and unsure.

I feel disconcerted that I didn’t listen, see, and take in what was unfolding right in front of me on that Saturday.

I open my kids class at the gym the same way every time I teach: 

I point to my nose.

The kids all point to their nose.

I say “Point to your elbow.”

The kids all say “That’s not your elbow!  That’s your nose!” 

I say, “This is my nose? Are you sure?” 

They say “Yes silly, that’s your nose. This is your elbow!” and then they point to their elbows.

One day I had a 6 or 7 year old in class who had never been there before.

As the nose/elbow routine was unfolding, he whispered to himself “What an idiot”, eyeing me suspiciously.

It took every ounce of energy not to turn to him, and say “I know where my nose is Mister.”

I didn’t though, I held it together, and continued on with our game.

I saw the larger picture, and did what was necessary to keep the group moving forward, making sure not to take time away from class to calm and validate my own self that was a tad off center after being called an idiot by a 6 year old.

I wasn’t able see the larger picture with the fire.

I wasn’t able to see anything at all.

I chose to put my blinders on and to keep my head down.

I chose to eat my vegetables and got on with the day.

When a little bit later it became clear that there was a full fledged forest fire burning across the valley, I slumped down and stopped all life activities for a little bit.

I made myself remember our fire, the one that happened in 2003.

The one that burned down our cabin, and Glen’s shop, and the land the land the land.

I made myself remember and remember and remember.

After remembering all I could remember, I emailed everyone I knew across the valley, to see how they were, to ask what they needed, and to make sure they were okay.

My next email will go out to everyone who was at the Dance Vacation this past Saturday saying, “I don’t know what happened.  I couldn’t bring myself to see the smoke clearly that day.  I’m sorry I ignored your concerns.  I wish I had seen what you saw, and acted accordingly instead of flippantly pretending the billowing smoke was nothing at all to be concerned about.”

One day at the gym, when I was doing the whole nose/elbow shctick, I said to the kids, “How did you all get so smart?”

One little boy answered:

“I really don’t know, because my dad? He’s not smart  AT ALL.  He misses a lot of stuff.”

That’s how I felt on Saturday….Not smart AT ALL, and missing a lot of stuff.

Stubborn and bullheaded, yes.

But not smart.

Your Dance Mission for the Week has nothing to do with fires, or noses, or elbows.

It has to do with doing a dance on your couch.

I like to start with my head hanging down off the couch, and my legs up in the air. 

I notice my breath, feel my body against the soft cushions, and wait to see what emerges. 

I also like to slither and slide off the couch, and then figure out how to slither and slide back up. 

I like to kneel on my knees on the arms of the couch, and then fall face first into the pillows.

What do you like to do?

You can tell me here.

Or email me.

I love getting your emails.

With Warmth and Jive Vibes,



Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending


PS PS PS PS:  Tons of Upcoming that is Coming Right Up, so Mark your Calendars!

DANCE VACATION:  Saturday, August 13th, 9am-3pm, at my house in Jamestown.  A few spots left, so email if you are interested.

FREE DANCE CLASSES:  Tuesday, September 6th and Thursday, September 8th.  11-1pm at The Boulder Circus Center.

FALL DANCE CLASSES:  Sept 13th-December 15th, Tuesdays and/or Thursdays.  11-1pm, at The Boulder Circus Center.

DOG DANCE:   Friday, September 16th at 7pm.  Tentatively at Floorspace, but am working out those details, so location TBA for now.

xo jo

A Neglected Garden

It’s one of those days — you know the kind:

Waking up and wandering about, knowing you need to buckle down and get to work, your list for the day is never ending and continues for too many pages, but instead you continue to wander:

Picking at a few weeds in the yard, but not committing to doing any actual weeding, so the garden you imagined in your mind is still only in your mind, because you also haven’t been watering.

Pulling out your shoebox of receipts to go over, organize, and make sense of, but then getting distracted by the soft and very velvety ears of your beagle, and the receipts stay in the box for another day.

Planning to write about and discuss the latest, and devastatingly horrific massacre that has yet again taken place in the USA, but instead you are scrolling aimlessly through Facebook while feeling sick to your stomach and empty inside, and yet you keep scrolling.

And in some ways, the scrolling through Facebook. maybe it’s okay, because you read about the Orthodox Rabbi who took his congregation, in their yarmulkas and garb, to the local gay bar as an act of solidarity.

Maybe it’s okay to scroll through feeling empty and ill because you also read about how the JetBlue Crew and the passengers on that plane held a place of quiet and condolence for a grandmother traveling to Orlando to attend the funeral of her grandson.

Maybe it’s okay to scroll through and listen to all the people sing, and all the people stand, while so many circle the block, waiting to give blood.

Maybe it’s okay to scroll through for another few minutes before you turn off the computer and confront the truth of the matter.

But you can’t, because what is the truth here?

What is the correct course of action?

How do we move through our day as if nothing happened?

Can we all stop for a bit and reassess this entire situation of being human?

I taught dance at the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies for 8 summers. 

There we some good times, some bad times, some peculiar and strange times.

One of the strangest was taking a walk with a woman, in the summer of 1998, who claimed to be able to see into the future (is that called Clairvoyant?).

And she was a mess.

She hadn’t fully arrived onto the planet yet.

Wonderfully kind and generous, but a bit undone.

Anyway, we were taking our walk, chatting about nothing in particular, when she took my arm, stopped me in my tracks and said:  “Something terrible is going to happen in September of 2001.  Something we cannot even imagine.  It is going to change the course of everything.”

Her eyes were wild and desperate.

She let go of my arm, and continued walking, amiably commenting about the flora and the fauna, forgetting in an instant what she had just said.

I don’t know what to make of that, because also at Omega, King Solomon (from the Bible) spoke to me through the body of a 24 year old mad man who ended up frying his brain with an overdose of Kundulinin Yoga, and was taken to the state hospital, BUT everything he said rang true, and some of it even made me cry.

So I don’t know what to make of the truth.

I don’t know what to make of violence, death, power, and greed.

I don’t know what to make of desperation, confusion, isolation, and loneliness.

I don’t know what to make of actions that so horrifically hurt others.

Is that why I keep scrolling, to try to make sense of it all, and to try to find the truth on Facebook?

I am going to stop scrolling now, because I am becoming hollow and paper thin.

Instead, I am going to go outside and try to save all the plants in my garden that I have  neglected, and most likely killed.

Then,  I’m going to sit down with my receipts and figure out a more workable budget.

As a treat, when all of that is done, I am going to take my teenage nephew for an ice cream cone, and listen to him talk about all of his favorite bands, and all of his favorite youtube stars, and maybe we’ll talk about Orlando…but probably not.

It’s come up a few times, but today, I’ll let him guide the conversation, and if that’s where he goes, I’ll listen, and I’ll try not to say a whole lot (that is really hard for me…I’m working on it, but it’s not going so well).

But if he talks, excitedly, as I expect he might, for many hours about My Chemical Romance, Panic at the Disco, and Twenty-One Pilots (all bands…sort of punk-pop teen bands I think) I’ll listen then too. 

I’ll sing along to the lyrics, because god help me, I know them all. 

With Warmth,



Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending


PS:  Your Dance Mission!

I have been working these past two weeks with my classes, and with my work with Andrew on getting the body into awkward and almost stuck positions, and then seeing how you maneuver and navigate out of that puzzle.

Do you want to try to do that too?

If so, start on the floor, or in a chair maybe.

And put on some music that you love, and drop into your dance by noticing your breath, your body against the surface of the earth, or in the chair.

Notice what you notice, and fall in to dancing. 

When you get an arm stuck underneath you, or a leg tangled in the rungs of the chair, slow way way down….so slow that it’s almost as if your cells have to shift around and re-orient first, before the rest of your body can untangle. 

Keep going, and trust the dance that is emerging from deep inside of you, and follow it to the end.



The Other Side of the Earth

I don’t know what kind of dance we need to make right now.

I don’t know what kind of dance is bubbling up inside of this land of ours…this land that includes everywhere…this land that feels like it’s breaking apart at the seams sometimes.

I don’t know what kind of dance needs to happen when the listening from those that decide what happens to, on, and among these lands — when that listening is not keen or sharp, nuanced or fine, clear eyed or empathetic, honest or compassionate.

I don’t know what kind of dance needs to unfold when the same thing keeps happening again and again.

I don’t know what kind of dance needs to happen when there is a threat to close down entry into a space that belongs to all of us, not just some of us.

I don’t know what kind of dance needs to happen when the word “border” is still in our vocabulary, or when safe havens are no longer safe, or when luck - not karma, not good deeds, not hard work - but simple luck lands some of us here, where we are relatively safe from harm and some of us there, where we are in harms way every minute of the day.

I don’t know what this dance is.

As a system of beings making our way across these lands…these lands that include everywhere and belong to all of us….what is the dance we need, right now, in this moment, in time and space?

I only know what I know, and what I know is not enough.

And that knowing is that I am engaged in a process right now, that is steeped in discovering emergent movement forms and patters that are generated - I hope - from a place of listening.

From a place of breath.

From a place of connection to earth and air.

And how that is, in anyway, connected to everything I just said above these last few sentences, I really don’t know.

I don’t know what kind of dance needs to happen in this moment in history.

I don’t know what kind of dance we need to make right now.

Whatever dance we do end up creating — we need to do it  together, standing side by side, helping those that are in harms way, to cross any border they need to find a place that is safer than where they were before, with more resources and possibility, for themselves and for their families.

I don’t know much, but I do know that.

Isn’t that sort of fundamental to our values, not as a country, but as human beings living together on this planet?

Isn’t that the essence of existence?

“In this 21st Century, our lives, our well being, our survival, our flourishing, is linked to the well being of others…on the other side of the planet as well as those on the other side of the city, in a way that is unprecedented in human history.”  — Krista Tippett, Host of On Being

Your Dance Mission this week is to listen.

Listen to this:  http://bit.ly/25XJrcC

It seems like a good time — as we are being inundated from all sides, by all that is happening in our world — to slow down and to take some time away from our to-do list, our Facebook feeds, and our Twitter tweets, and listen.

I listened myself, just now.

Taking the time to listen to Krista speak so eloquently about the soaring questions concerning the messiness and the loveliness of our human experience is helping me get clearer about what kind of dance I want to engage in, right now, in this moment in time.

After you listen, let me know what kind of dance you want to engage with, participate in, and be a part of.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes,



Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending



Did you know that Glen, the guy I co-habitat with, enjoy this little life with, make a home and family with, did you know that HE can make and fix ANYTHING?


We just got a Skidsteer (which is like a little dump truck) because we are starting to think about retirement.

The Skidsteer will make it easier for us to live up here into our twilight years.

It will allow us to maintain our mile and a half dirt road that gets us to town every morning and home every evening.

When I first moved up here with Glen, there were usually about 3 weeks in the winter when we couldn’t get our cars up the road to the house because of the snow.

If I came home from town and couldn’t get up our road:  No problem!

I strapped on my snowshoes, threw my backpack that was filled with the weeks groceries on my back, situated  2 jugs of water in each hand, and headed up the mountain as the sun was going down.

Now when it snows or when part of the road starts falling off the mountain we have the Skidsteer!!!

Except that we bought it used, and it didn’t come with forks - those big metal things you see on Forklifts.

I don’t know why we need the forks, but we do, so Glen made some.


Just welded them in his shop one Monday morning when work was slow.

He made his own forks for the Skitzer so we wouldn’t have to buy them.

He’s built a greenhouse, a 4,000 gallon water tank, and various tools for his shop to help make his furniture making process more efficient.

That’s why I can’t figure out why he always just shakes his head when I ask him to build some sort of wind shield for the house.

We get up to 110 mph gusts of wind up here:

A 50 pound hay bale has been blown into the side of the house by the wind

The picnic table, that is tied together and screwed down to the flagstone in the courtyard, the whole tied-up thing blew into the glass door one Saturday morning.

And a window in the kitchen window exploded into millions of pieces at 2am one morning because of the wind.

If he can figure out how to make the forks for the Skidsteer in his shop, can’t he build some kind of huge plexiglass thing that protects the house from the wind?

No, apparently he can’t.

This is an on-going argument we have.

I work hard at trying to “accept the things I cannot change”, but this one…accepting that the wind is just going to blow and blow and blow and smack into our house days and weeks at a time, and Glen can’t do anything about it?   

I am not able to accept this.

Which leads me back to Uh-Oh:

Glen’s work is so incredibly different than mine, for many reasons, but one reason is that he never works on a deadline.

He will turn down all projects and commissions if he is given a deadline.

I only work on deadlines.

My calendar is always out.

I write down what needs to get done by a particular date, and by god it is going to get done.

In most cases, this serves me well.

In some…not so much.

The “Uh-Oh” is that I moved too quickly to get my audio classes out to you.

It was in the calendar to get the audio classes to by Monday, May 16th.

Come hell or high water, that’s what was going to happen.

And this is hard for me to say, but I want a re-do.

Are you ok if I do a re-do?

Are you ok if I  re-send them?

I got some fantastic feedback from one of my most committed and long time students, Johannah, and I want to take that feedback and make the audio classes better.

I took down what is up on the website, and instead did a “Coming Soon”.

I’m not going to give myself a deadline this time, and instead make sure I implement Johannah’s feedback, and that I feel really really good about what I am sending to you.

I should have done this before, but for whatever reason, I didn’t.

That’s my Uh-Oh.

My other Uh-Oh is that a friend and read of this newsletter emailed me last week to say that The Guggenheim Museum had not moved, and that it was still where it always has been.

(She has a lovely and deep connection to this particular museum as she grew up in New York City, and played every day after school right outside the front doors of The Guggenheim).

And she is correct:  The Guggenheim Museum has not moved.

The Guggenheim I was referring to in last week’s newsletter was The Guggenheim Soho, which did in fact close, and was replaced by a Prada Store.

I apologize for not clarifying this.



Mistake, mishaps, and missteps abound, as I, and all of us, find our way in this mad, crazy, and beautiful world.

Thanks  for your patience with the online classes I am attempting to launch.

I will send you another link as soon as they are ready.

Your Dance Mission for The Week is an old favorite of mine:  Put on your favorite music, and dance.

Let me know how it goes.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes,



Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending


2 PS’s for the Day!



May 31st and June 2nd from 11-1pm

at The Boulder Circus Center

Email me if you plan to be there, and feel free to bring a friend.


Lotsa lotsa opportunities for dancing this summer:  Click here for more info.

I would love to have you in class.


Do I give a rat’s squishy tushy about fashion?

Not in the least — which is obvious to those who know me.

But I had an encounter with a Prada store a few years back that re-wired the circuits in my brain in a most beautiful way.

I was driving to Marfa, TX to do a workshop with Nina Martin.

About an hour outside of Marfa, on a deserted and desolate desert road, with no topography to speak of and nothing to see except for sage brush and tumbleweeds, I saw -- out of the corner of my eye -- a rather chic and urban looking building to my right, with a sign that said  “Prada”.

I pulled the car to a screeching halt,  jumped out, and tried the doors to the Prada Store, which were locked.

"Strange", I said to myself.

I peered into windows, walked around the building, peered in again, knocked, walked, peered, knocked once more and then realized….

This wasn’t a store…this was an art instillation in the middle of the desert.

This Prada “store” sitting in the middle of the desert was so surreal, so bizarre, so out of place and context, that I sat down in the dirt, next to the sage brush and the tumble weed, leaned back on my hands, looked up into the sky, and laughed.

I told this story at the Colorado Creative Industries Summit last week as part of the panel I was on.

Someone came up to me afterward and told me her own encounter with a Prada store:

She and her husband were in NYC, touring the museums.

They walked into the Guggenheim Museum, and saw multiple Prada mannequins with dark sunglasses and black bikini bathing suits, the Prada price tag dangling off of the bottoms.

They wandered about in the museum for a bit, taking in the space between and among the mannequins, noticing and commenting on the multiplicity of the scantily clad plastic women, and wondering if the price tag and the bikinis were in reference to consumerism, americana, sexuality?  The dark glasses indicating “not seeing”, perhaps?

Then they saw the cash register.

 And they someone walking out the door with a Prada shopping bag.

They weren’t at the Guggenheim.

They were at an actual Prada store.  

The Guggenheim had moved locations, and Prada had taken over it’s former locale.

Oh, how I laughed when hearing this story.

It made me think about all of the random moments in my life where I have entered into a space or a situation and have been surprised and astonished at what I am encountering.

The time I was walking along 5th Avenue in Brooklyn, late at night, with a friend, and we happened upon a group of people all dressed in what looked like paper costumes, on the rooftop of a building, dancing.

The time I was leading a group of 5th graders on a hike, and one of the boys kept saying to the rest of the kids:

 “I can’t wait to have a soda from the soda machine when we get to the top of the mountain.”  

In turn, I kept saying, “We are on a mountain, in the middle of nowhere…there is no soda machine at the top of the mountain.”  

He would reply:  “Do you know that for SURE?  Are you 100% positive there is no soda machine at the top of the mountain?  Have you ever been to the top of this mountain before?”

“No.  I have not been to the top of this mountain before.  Have you?”

“No!  I hate hiking.  I'm only here my mom MADE me go."

“Okay, well I’m 99.999% sure that we will not stumble upon a soda machine when we get to the top of this or any other mountain.”

“So there’s still a possibility that there could be a soda machine at the top of the mountain, right?”

“Yes, there's still a possibility…a very small possibility, but a possibility.”

You guessed it:  

When we got to the top of the mountain, there was a giant vending machine, with all different kinds of sodas for the kids to choose from.

The boy beamed:  “I told you so.” 

Your Dance Mission for the week is to notice any inexplicable and astonishing moments you encounter in your day to day life.

These moments can be as small as witnessing someone having a private dance party at the coffee shop, seeing an animated conversation in the car next to you at the stoplight, or closely observing the walking patters and  near misses that take place in a big crowd.

Or these moments can be as big as stumbling upon an an unexpected happening or event that leaves you sitting in the dirt, mouth open wide, laughing, gawking, wondering….WHAAAAAAAT????

I would love to hear about what you notice, see, encounter, and engage with, so post about your experience here.


1. FREE DANCE CLASSES: May 31st and June 2nd from 11-1pm at The Boulder Circus Center Email me if you plan to be there, and feel free to bring a friend.

2. Dancing this summer….lotsa lotsa opportunities.   Click here for more info. I would love to have you in class!!

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending www.joannaandtheagitators.com