Sometimes we see an image or a colour, or a feeling may pass through as the shift occurs. Chakradance works for people on many levels. It works for people who are curious to explore their chakras in an experiential way, or are just looking for self-expression and fun. Chakradance also works really well for people who find themselves trying to process difficult life circumstances, be that health issues, work stress, or other times of change and transformation.
The Awakening workshops are a wonderful way to awaken your chakra system.
This process is a deep-dive into the seven chakras, one at a time, allowing your energy system to release, transform and recharge. Krutika found the nine-week Awakening process allowed her to shift the energetic residue of a recent bout of illness. She found as the weeks passed, even her mandalas began to look more vibrant and full of green, which she associated with healing and an opening of her heart chakra. Jessica was in a stage of transition and healing from grief and trauma when she came to Chakradance. She had already sought out other healing practices and was ready to embrace a blossoming and evolution into the fullness of her spiritual being through Chakradance.
I was free to express myself and supported as any emotional issues arose and were released. I felt a sense of freedom after every class and I will definitely be doing it again in the future as I continue to evolve and expand! I had high anxiety, chronic stress, and insomnia and I was searching for something to hold onto and give me strength through this stressful time. During this difficult time she committed to the Awakening cycle over nine weeks and describes her transformation in her own words. The more I journeyed through those nine weeks the stronger I got.
I will always be thankful to Chakradance for the power of healing and recognition that I can live a happy life. The Chakradance journey was truly the bright light on my dark path. IFC Mon. IFC Sat. IFC Sun. Sundance Wed. Noon Sundance Wed. VH1 Thur. Noon IFC Wed. CMT Sun. CMT Sat. CMT Mon. Noon CMT Sat. AMC Tues. Another 48 HRS. Encore Thur.
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Cinemax Sat. Showtime Tues. Cinemax Wed. Ovation Wed. TMC Sun. Showtime Fri. Paramount Fri. Encore Wed. USA Fri. USA Sat. BBC America Tues. CMT Wed. MLB Thur. EPIX Fri. New Wave darlings the Skunks played our wedding reception at Soap Creek. I already knew Austin's resident ex-Velvet, Sterling Morrison, and had no plans to attend. Two friends insisted I go to the show, but I was so reluctant and dawdled so long that the house lights were dimming as I slipped backstage.
Temporarily blinded, I felt my way toward the hallway that ran to the dressing rooms. Rounding the corner, I ran headlong into a man dressed in black, wearing mirrored shades and a silver hardhat. He pushed me back at arm's length, pausing ever so briefly. I jumped back against the wall as he and the band filed past. The man in black looked back at me over his sunglasses as he ascended the stairs to the stage, and I melted. So this was John Cale! After the show, the local punk cognoscenti were hanging out and I was observing them, half-envious of their raw mystique.
Sterling Morrison was there waiting to do be interviewed with John on the radio. He said hello and we started talking. Cale was signing autographs and glanced toward Sterling and I several times.
Knowing he had seen me talking to Sterling long enough to establish familiarity, I picked up a flier from Raul's and handed it to Cale. He scribbled "Best wishes, Margaret, John Cale" and passed it back. As I reached for the paper, he pulled it back from my grasp so I had to lean toward him to take it. In truth, I stood up Cale that night and instead spent the evening with a friend in the midst of a breakup.
If he was interested then, he might be interested again, so I drove to the Sunday-afternoon show. Once backstage, I heard a "pssst" and turned to see him hanging out of the second-floor window overlooking the outdoor stage. He gestured for me to come see him. I ran up the stairs, where he was waiting in a tiny dressing room.
There were four rails of cocaine cut on the table inside. John shut the door behind me, pushed me against it, and kissed me for the first time. We never got to the coke, but minutes later, John's road manager was banging on the door, telling him it was time to go onstage. My strapless floral sundress was in a circular heap on the floor, and I quickly pulled it on. John buckled his black leather pants, buttoned his white shirt, and took a quick snort of the coke.
Westward, Ho! A trip to L. John was the reason I wanted to go, naturally, but I was quite friendly with Cale's backup singer deerfrance and his guitarist Sturgis Nikides. Sturgis and I got along famously with no sexual tension whatsoever; we just plain liked each other -- 20 years later, he's a regular e-mail buddy.
My girlfriends Jessica and Martha and I set out for L. We also had an unexpected passenger in the form of an underage teenage boy, a friend of Martha's. This pissed off Jessica and me except for one thing: He had a valid driver's license and I didn't.
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He also had gas money to kick in, and we were broke enough to take it. We spent Sunday night at a West Texas gas station because we ran out of gas. We arrived in L. Our room was on the end of the now-leveled Tropicana and had a view of Santa Monica Boulevard.
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Cale and the band arrived Wednesday afternoon, and the drugs materialized immediately. We'd stockpiled our room with beer and bourbon and were very popular for doing so. Jessica and Martha had gone to the downstairs restaurant and met some musicians they brought back to the room. Cale and his entire band trickled in, and the party went on most of the night until John and I stole away and went down the hall. Thursday was the first two of Cale's six Whisky shows. The afterparty was in someone else's room that night, subdued and short, but deerfrance came back to our room with us.
We were giggly, girly, coked up, and ready for more. She plopped into the couch, sprawling and waving one arm. You're the Texas Blondes. We promptly designated deerfrance as our first honorary Texas Blonde. I was already in my nightgown when deerfrance, Sturgis, and bassist Peter Muny showed up. The ice chest was re-stocked with beer, and bourbon, joints, and coke were everywhere.
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We were knee-walking drunk in an hour, and out came the Polaroid camera. There in a flash are deerfrance and I, drunk as lords and babbling for all eternity. The Saturday show was the wildest of nights. The L. One forthright local girl liked it.
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Who are you and where ya from? That night the party was back in a room on the other side of the Tropicana. Sturgis met me there and we walked over together, but it was mostly musicians from local punk bands like the Zeros standing around drinking and smoking pot. We laughed, hugged, and played catch-up through a beer or three.
The original Texas Blondes: E. Someone chopping lines on a table offered me one and I took it, which helped nothing. John had been busy since the morning with a record-store appearance and a couple of meetings, and I hadn't seen him until just before the show.
Afterward, he had gone to do a radio interview with rabble-rousing critic R. Meltzer on L. The car was the only radio source, and Martha had gone to the store with it. The TV in the party room had a radio but was too weak to pick up Pacifica. I paced around the party and tried not to look at the door whenever it opened. When at last the door opened and John charged inside, he was very stoned and lurched to a halt, looking about the room with a dark stare and his hair spiky.
I was still talking to Eddie, pretending not to notice John as he pushed his way over and wrapped both arms around my waist, lifting me up. He pressed his lips into my hair and slurred. Just before we disappeared, I looked to see who was watching. Sturgis was smirking. Jessica was waving.
Eddie was shaking his head but that was okay. They saw John doing his caveman number on me. I was delighted. A few hours later John woke up and woke me up.