Body Ecology with Zsuzsi Soboslay

I highly, highly recommend Zsuzsi’s work.  Here’s a flyer for a workshop that could be run in the Illawarra this weekend, if numbers allow.  Perhaps you can make it, or this may spark an interest that you will pick up on another time.  I will keep posting about her visits.  She also provides clinic, so one-on-one sessions.  Healing, radical, deep.  I will write more at another time, but in the meantime:



Matty Shields episode on Message Stick

Matty Shields is so inspiring, beautiful and strong.  A resilient soul and gorgeous mover.  How fantastic that he was profiled, and that he has some lovely friends and supporters.  This episode gave a sense of different dimensions of his life, which is really refreshing.

A hero: Greg Sheehan

I was invited to write about a hero of mine, Greg Sheehan, and his contribution to Australian music through my personal story.  Here it is, below.  

It made me think about heroes, and about the awesome Pete Slattery’s exercises around heroes here.  Sounds good for group work but also for anyone to think about it.  Funny, Pete’s also a great drummer and human being, what’s going on with that?  

The shadow side of thinking about heroes is comparing yourself to them, feeling that you fall short of the inspiration and the standard.  The shadow, if I’m honest, has interwoven with the inspiration and the love. However, what helps me with this is to think that even this, even my own thought-ways that beat me up, spiral in, stop me from practicing and developing: even these are human.  Everyone has these.  Perhaps I have them a little stronger or I have given them a bit more time than others have, but perhaps that’s ok.

And heroes are human.  And yet in their human lives they have been a beacon.  And that just is something to celebrate.

Here’s what I wrote about Greg.


Greg is thoroughly original, every cell.
His being is his doing. Quite the spiritual achievement.

Greg taught me body percussion and percussion at a week-long workshop co-taught by Janis Claxton, Byron Bay, January 1999. I had been arrested at Jabiluka uranium mine the previous year and had saved up money to attend court in my summer uni holidays. However, news came through that the 300 and something group of us were pleading guilty through a legal aid representative and didn’t need to make it to Darwin for the case. 

I went to Byron Bay instead.

In Byron I picked up a flyer for this workshop, scraped money together, got there. By the end of the first day I had met two of the most important teachers of my life and discovered a deep love and passion for ‘Rhythm in Motion’. Being 19, I went back to the Illawarra and packed up my life, left uni, and moved to Byron Bay and slept on the beach at first. (That part of it I wouldn’t necessarily do again!)

But it was the pull of great teachers. Being a student in Janis’ Spirit in Motion movement course for a few months my body, soul, mind were transformed; from the pelvis out. Rhythm diamonds and mirrors flew through my thoughts, carved through my journals. Slapping on the beach, in love with the love of rhythm and the lovers that clustered around Greg.

I was humble, privileged, to live with Greg and perform and teach with him intensively for 18 months. A formative time, a whirlwind time. I was young and couldn’t possibly absorb it all. Full of self-doubt but wanting to explode with the radiant passion of being close to a master. I am still absorbing. Still dancing between self-doubt and radiance. Vivid dervishes of music storms whirled around Greg.

I learnt much about how to be: a musician, performer, teacher, friend, housemate!, mentor from watching Greg interact with the musos coming through Byron, how he casually and masterfully facilitated jams in parks with the exotic locals, gigging travellers, busking hippies.

The rush through my body and unstoppable grin when sharing the current of Greg; helping out at his workshop in Woodford, hundreds of people …. clap!

After Byron I returned to Sydney and the Illawarra and have taught and facilitated body percussion and movement, some drumming and spoken word. A lot of this journey has felt hard, possibly because I didn’t have the particular Greg magic and his long-standing reputation, possibly because I was young, without finances, sometimes shy, had many life and health challenges. This solo mission and my more introverted sides meant at times I felt cut off from the wonderful world of people that swim in the Greg inspiration.

However, the gift, the gift. The gift is what connects us. The gift of showing talent, passion, rhythmicity, love, energy through a butterfly 9 or a moni 7. The brain fizz calling a mirrored 332 while stomping, rim-shot flying and bass scaling.

Greg’s connectivity reinforced collaborations I had years down the track. I collaborated for five years with Claudia Chambers, a beautiful flamenco percussionist, cajonera, gifted educator. She had been to Spain and Ireland and back, on her own woman-mastering-cajon journey, I had been teaching and performing body percussion-rappy things in Sydney. We found each other and the Greg thread from years before deepened our connections and was a basis of much of our teaching, performing and facilitating in schools and community organisations, juvenile detention.

I trace the threads years later, Melanie Shanahan and Arrameida gave a music workshop when I was doing HSC music in a country town. Getting country kids used to mostly playing classical pieces into two big concentric circles, a 7 body percussing on the outside, a 3 in the middle, struck me, instant spark inside. This spark revived years later. It was the Greg spark, travelling through others, with their unique teaching talents.

As a teenager in Tamworth I would chance across Arrameida from a music teacher, listen to the worlds of music, dream of escape. 

Knowing a great teacher mirrors the teacher potential within.

Greg reminded me that the passion and love come first in teaching.

Greg’s generosity with his radically cool ideas is inspiring. Perhaps it doesn’t work for everyone, there is copyright and property and everyone has a different position on the spectrum of ownership and sharing. But being a witness to his easy-as-breathing generosity, and seeing that he still gigs and money can flow and he can still live the passionate life was a great thing to witness.

This taught me that living can be a thoroughly original task. When I feel far from my potential, that I am not expressing gifts in the world, that I am not where I want to be in terms of being me in the world, Greg’s originality is both a beacon and a sharp reminder. Boof.

Without writing it, reading it, philosophising it, Greg’s being is his doing.

Moving through, drumming through, jumping on a bus to his next gig, workshop, or a plane to go and record with an orchestra, I saw in Greg the embodiment of cultural communication. His musical work from the desert to Playschool is a sophisticated expression of cultural politics made simple. Blackfellas, whitefellas, jigs and jazz. The Greg tambo, cajon, balloons in the mix bring his earth life force to the sound, his cheek as the tambo tone bends. His respect for other beings shows in his breath, his little Greg nods to show he is listening, his big hands with the thumbs bent back from drum sticks . 

He’s freaking funny as.

Freaking funky as.

My personal story, then, is that one of my great gifts in this lifetime has been that Legal aid representative pleading guilty. Happening upon Byron and the ocean pulse and sea-fresh rhythms of Greg Sheehan, and all of the bright souls that have swum near him, is the one thing that really makes me know there is divinity in the body earth realm. 

I know it, now to live it.

Love Move

I love to move.  Have loved it since I realised.  Since child self could follow with mind the sensation of being in moments through change.  Being in body through change through movement.  Through moments in space through joints and bending.  Then plies and tendus.  And finite litanies of changes and pas de bourree.  And the feeling of it has always been the thing.  Where it can lead, how it opens and repels and changes the mind self reflecting as it goes.  Palms bounding off thighs and sweaty tops and body struggles and the reflective eyes watching this body this body that does.  And again, it does, who?  Who is this body that moves?  What a blessing, moving being.  Being watched sometimes while moving.  Which can change the presence of mind. The presence of mind movement being watched changes present eyes.  Yet.  The thrill it can give to take that vulnerability of audience-performer mind games and take the ugly route.  Be funny ugly.  Especially if a girl and expected to want to be pretty sexy entrancing.  To break unexpectedly moment by micro moment and creak into colliding modes of ugly courage.