This was the first time in a couple of years that I wasn’t participating in an annual tango festival over the Thanksgiving holiday. Instead, I celebrated Thanksgiving four times with different groups of people.
The first was a monthly poetry potluck that occurs every third Saturday at a private residence in Dripping Springs. This was only the second time I’d attended and I’d even brought along another poet who had read his powerful piece about a life-altering accident at The Austin Writers Roulette just the previous Sunday. Of course, my favorite part of the evening has consistently been where we all sit around a large round table in the kitchen and enjoy each other’s food and enlightening conversation. What a perfect antidote to all the money-greedy logic that swirls around us on a daily basis.
The second Thanksgiving celebration occured on Monday at the studio where I train capoeira. Instead of having an actual training class, we had a berimbau workshop, where all of us capoeiristas sat in chairs in a circle (roda) and played the different rhythms (tocas) that our teacher led us through. Although I’ve been taking capoeira music classes for nearly a year, I could never distinguish one from the other. Yet, when our teacher wrote out the berimbau tablature on a white board, that made the music more tangible for me. I’m sure my understanding would greatly increase if I actually bought a berimbau and practiced at home. Yet, I don’t need one more instrument to add to my graveyard of untouched musical instruments. I still keep my guitar in its case and my practice drum kit in its box with the promise that “one day” I’ll have time in my busy schedule to take classes again, which will motivate me to start playing again.
After an hour of playing, we capoeiristas slowly drifted away from the berimbau roda and toward the ever-growing food table, especially when our contramestre arrived with all the food he’d ordered, mostly red meats, beans, rice, but there was a curious absence of turkey…not that I am complaining!
Tuesday, my school hosted a pie contest, where the teaching staff and faculty were all invited to bring a sweet or savory pie. Two lucky male teachers were recruited to be the judges, a job both foolishly thought was wonderful in the beginning. Once they got to the tenth pie, they looked ready to vomit. Up until I suggested it, they didn’t even have a bottle of water to help them wash down the samples in between pies. My pie didn’t win, but I enjoyed the brief camaraderie, which was sweet and fleeting like the best-tasting pie on one’s palate.
The fourth and final Thanksgiving occurred on the actual day. A fellow capoeirista who’s mostly been out of the country on a photography assignment breezed back to the States a few months ago and landed at a beautiful house out in “the country.” I’d love to make friends like he has with beautiful homes where I could just crash for a few months at a time while I worked on my art.
At any rate, the dinner guests were mostly capoeirista orphans along with some of the host’s other friends. One humorous trend among our capoeiristas is the fact that so many of them play chess and whenever we get together, an unofficial chess tournament breaks out. They talk far more crap than one normally hears during a capoeira roda! For some reason, I have never remembered to bring my go board, which is a strategically more challenging game than chess, but I think what I like the most about it is that every piece has equal value; it’s the strategy behind the moves that causes one piece to be pivotal to the overall winning of the game or not.
Nonetheless, my mind was focused on bringing wine, a bottle opener, my unique-looking wine glass, homemade cornbread and the corda I’d been working on. The latter was an incomplete project that I’d started during a corda-making workshop three weeks ago. Every capoeirista wears a corda to show their skill level. Although some groups just use a rope, which is dyed as the player advances skill levels, in our group, we braid the cordas. I almost have the skill, but at least I had my own entertainment in the beginning of the evening when the host and contramestre played chess and I had no one else to talk to; so I braided.
I enjoyed the different social groups and mixes of food. It’s wonderful that the focus of Thanksgiving is now celebrated with a coming together of “family” and the food is the star. I’m such a foodie and Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday, after Halloween, where everyone puts their best dish forward…then feel guilty about how much they’ve eaten afterwards!
I managed to avoid that guilt since I didn’t gain a single pound. I didn’t overeat even though I sampled all the food I cared to eat. I stuck to my bikram yoga routine, which helped process and burn off the food. Plus, I made it to my regular Saturday morning capoeira class during which contramestre nearly trained some of us to the point of vomiting!
In addition to eating and exercising, I avoided the Black Friday shopping frenzy by making my own holiday cards. This is the second time in a row that I’ve done this and I’m so pleased that I’m getting better at my card-making skills. As a matter of fact, I was less motivated to cut up most of the paintings on my walls since I’ve also become a much better painter.
Since I’m still “allergic” to Facebook, this is about the only way that people who I hardly ever communicate with will get any word from me. And boy, what words they are getting from me! I wrote out about half of my greeting cards during a tripy open mic and the rest, I’ll write out on location at a 24-hour internet cafe. When I spoke to my mother this morning about what I intended to do later this afternoon, she confessed, like so many apathetic people who I’ve heard from, that she’s cutting back her Christmas card sending. She’s only going to send to immediate family and those who send her a Christmas card early in the card-sending season.
It’s ironic that she feels this way since she usually attends church. I, on the other hand, hardly ever attend church, but I read the Bible every day and pray every night. I just feel that the only gift I’m going to send some people will be my handmade greeting cards, which is a dying art and also one of many of my creative pursuits. When I reflect on what the purpose of my life is and how I spend my limited days on this planet, I know for sure that I’m not wasting my time using my talents pursuing happiness and sharing my art.
