Dancing Queen.

 

Chicago, IL

If you have been following me for a while, you should be familiar with my love of music and movement.  I’ve told this story before, but it’s my parent’s fault: when my mother was pregnant with me, she would hold a pair of 1980s Panasonic adjustable over-the-ear headphones on top of her belly – the outline of my tiny feet, kicked to each synth bass loop.

After my arrival in ’88, dad had nothing but 8-tracks on repeat.  R&B, funk, reggae, and pop-rock hits from the era and times past, flooded our home.

Every so often, my sister and I accompanied my parents to small, local outdoor music events as one of the few children in the crowd. Dad gave his shoulders to climb on for a better view of the show.

With the band and my parents’ permission, the lead let us run on stage for a song or two to dance. I knew early on that movin’ and groovin’ swam through my DNA.

I share this common thread with another survivor who happens to live a little closer to home. Based in Chicago, she, like many others in our community, finds comfort in knowing that there are people who share this unique experience.

Nikki Mammano, a 26-year-old MBA student and dance instructor, thoroughly appreciates the art.

“Dance has always been a creative outlet for me. What I can’t express in my writing, I dance it out. It’s  my escape and meditation- a way to shut off my busy mind and just be in the moment. Movement is literally medicine; I couldn’t be productive without it.”

Back in 2019, Nikki suffered an unfortunate TBI (traumatic brain injury) after being hit by a truck carrying an amusement park ride. Sadly, her partner who sat in the backseat with her, did not survive.

Beyond the obvious shock of it all, she suffered impacts to the right side of her brain, leading to temporary paralysis to the left side of her body. Nikki developed post-traumatic amnesia – remnants of the first three weeks are gone.

Despite the fact that she occasionally deals with vertigo and tension headaches, her condition has become significantly better over time. I personally remember my own struggle of feeling off-balance after returning to my 9-to-5; vertigo would come on suddenly, disrupting my work day.

“Physical Therapy helped a lot with this. Turning was tough at first, but honestly, dancing and moving my body again helped heal me. I was walking in just a little over two months and back on my yoga mat in three. At five months, I went back to work – the dance studio after six.”

---

In the aftermath of any sort of brain injury, the way you function throughout the world will most certainly change; the control center of your body has been damaged. Her and I both understand all too well, navigating your new normal.

“Mental effort is now strenuous. Everything takes me a lot longer. I am slower to learn, read, finish tasks, problem-solve and so on. I use different tools like Speechify so I can listen at the same time as reading – it helps me to concentrate and focus. I am always making lists and writing things down right away or will forget things.”

My decision to become more involved in adult dance, pushed the recovery process forward. Repetitive movement, muscle memory, release of tension in the body and general exercise all helped in bringing back my balance.

“I got this mug when I was in acute rehab. My mama got it for me because hot chocolate is my comfort drink. It’s really, really special to me.”

Last summer, Nikki was presented the opportunity to make her first professional appearance since the accident at a studio in DC.

“I remember the night before the showcase during our last practice, I broke down in tears. I told my coach, Abraham, that I felt like the accident put me behind in my dancing. I was reminded who was coming to see me - the most important people in my life. My mom, dad, and grandpa didn’t know if I’d even be able to walk again after my injuries, let alone dance. During that performance, I felt so much gratitude for all of the healing my body has endured. Gratitude to be alive.”

For Nikki, dance calms her anxiety and ultimately soothes her soul. It delivers a purpose that keeps her moving every day.

“Your medically defined symptoms are not just textbook definitions - they are a part of you. A beautiful part of you. Whatever it is you may struggle with - focus, problem-solving, emotional dysregulation - your symptoms do not define you. They are a part of you and are what makes you human. It’s okay to be different and there’s nothing wrong with having to use different tools and strategies to help you. Your uniqueness is what makes you beautiful.”

You can keep up with Nikki and follow her story on Instagram @nikki.mammano.

Fast5 Facts:

Define Success: Flourishing
Coffee or Tea of Choice: Green Tea
Who/What Is Your Motivator: My Mama
What Balances You: Movement
Favorite Color: Light Blue

Mood Music: Not a Victim – David Francisco

Let It Flow.

 

Cuppa Java

I love music: so much so, in college I was in a collegiate choir [on a small scholarship might I add] that sang Choral and Operatic music.

I had a brief affair with that Major.

Brief. Like a semester.

I later determined it wasn’t practical. What in the hell was I going to do with a degree in Music?

Teach?

Yeah, no.

I sang, but was nowhere near good enough to transcend beyond “Ava Maria”.

[Shout out to all my Soprano’s!]

The Iowa colleges I attended, were well known in the Midwest for their vocal ensembles and music divisions; most of the students in my choir had been training for years and it showed.

Those crisp, melodic voices were pristine. 

We sounded like Angels. [Perhaps I’m biased, but we were damn good].

I had raw talent and was lucky enough to be approached in 10th grade by the local music teacher who heard me singing in the park.

She later went on to train me for the audition that lead to my $5,000 a semester scholarship.

[It was fun while it lasted – I ended up transferring colleges and inevitably lost, said scholarship].

Attempting to move into the professional Opera space was [and still is] highly competitive - I’m not a competitive person on that level; the energy of those type of environments can be rather draining as oppose to invigorating for someone like me.

I Love Music.

She will always be a part of my life in some way, shape or form.

Even in my writing.

Hanging out at the library, I swiped "On Writing Fiction: Rethinking Convention Wisdom About the Craft," by David Jauss off the shelf.  I peruse the table of contents to find something useful - low and behold -  I come across Chapter 3: What We Talk About When We Talk About Flow.

Boom, baby.

Here it is:

Jauss begins the chapter,  struggling to reconcile the definition of “flow”:

“What bothers me about the word – beyond the fact that I hear it so often – is that my students generally don’t seem to understand what they mean by it. They intuitively recognize flowing prose when they read it, but they are not sure what constitutes it. If I ask them what makes a particular sentence or story “flow”, they’ll answer with  semi-synonyms that are equally vague: ‘it’s the rhythm’, ‘the pace,’ ‘the style’ they can’t really define it…my response to flow is undoubtedly as intuitive as theirs, for when we talk about flow we’re talking about an element of writing that is more music than meaning and thus beyond rational explanation – perhaps even beyond language itself,” [p.59].

He goes on to use the opening of “Odour of Chrysanthemums,” by D.H. Lawrence to demonstrate fluid expression - accurately capturing emotion - verses a reconstructed, choppy version [he comparably recreated] representing the inverse.

It’s the difference between describing the coffee shop I’m sitting in – the general tone of the atmosphere, complete with all of its idiosyncrasies and just simply stating something mundane:

I’m at coffee shop. There are few people here. The air is cold. There is a child crying near the entrance. Probably because it’s 7am on a Sunday [etc.].

Jauss breaks down sentence structure [syntax related to simple / complex / compound / compound-complex sentences]- that ultimately contribute to the paragraph and by extension, the larger story.

His claim is that good writers create variance in their sentence configurations [p.63].

A section in the chapter titled: Syntax As Soundtrack details the way in which those words [and sentences] create, penetrating feelings:

“Given that syntax is not just structure but a sequence – a flow – that generates “dynamics of feeling”, it stands to reason that one purpose of syntactical variation is to convey rhythmically the emotion we wish to create in the reader,” [p.70].

Section 4: Form As Rhythm expands on the idea:

“It’s important to note that when we talk about flow in prose, we’re not just talking about the music of a particular sentence or even passage, we’re also talking about the music of the work as a whole – its entire soundtrack. The word ‘flow’ refers not only to style, then, but also to form, to the rhythmic relationship of sentences to paragraphs, paragraphs to scenes, scenes to chapters and chapters to an entire novel,” [p.77].

Associated with rhythm, is cadence: the modulation of inflection.

Author, Laura Drake describes its importance on her blog:

 “It’s not just the words, but how they’re put together that can convey a mood. To the reader, it’s subliminal – they feel it subconsciously. It’s a way of layering your message – and it can work like glue to stick readers to your pages.”

Right on.

When I was on my t.v. writing kick, I would include beats in the story moments– an action or interruption in dialogue that would give pause to the reader [or in my case, actor]. It adds to the cadence.

Again, these concepts are difficult of verbalize – it’s one of those things that you immediately recognize when you read or hear it.

You see it in human interaction every day; the energy of those moments that pop up in conversation.

When something happens or doesn’t happen. Sometimes those moments are intuitive.

The chemistry between [5] friends hanging out together at a bar for a Thursday night happy hour.

[10] colleagues going over a project plan in a meeting.

[2] strangers on a date.

[1] lone person sitting creepily in the corner of a coffee shop [lol].

That.

That right there.

That’s what I’m talking about.

Capture it.

Write it.

Mood Music: Set Adrift on Memory Bliss - PM Dawn