There are a few ways we do this.

• There are social signals. The moment a child does something that causes a negative reaction from an elder, they learn that their action doesn’t align with the agreements of the group.

• There are teaching moments. The moment an elder instructs a younger person as to a particular way, they provide explicit knowledge about a particular agreement.

• There are laws. In larger and more “organized” societies – different than mere social relationships – laws are agreements that have been enshrined, often written, and distributed at a large scale to all members of a society.

These ways of discovery rely on interactive relationship to bring the reality of social agreements to life. There is action, and consequence. There is ongoing learning. But here, in the interaction between people, is where laws differ from other methods. The difference is significant and worth exploring.

Social signals and teaching moments are navigated through relationships that are known – family members, friends, team members, towns folk, and the like. The law is designed to spread across large distances and does not need knowledge of the person to be enforced. Rather than the relationship mediating the agreement, the law mediates the relationship.

Consider the difference between a parent, correcting their child for doing something they had been told not to, and a police officer correcting a community member for breaking a law. The interaction between parent and child (in the best of cases) is part of a longer relational context in which both parties are coming to know one another personally. The interaction between the police officer and community member happens more often only at the point of offense.

The parent is an authority figure and effectively the giver of the law to the child. In that position the parent can adjust the way they enforce, judge, or punish. The police officer is neither the giver of the law nor someone who can make any significant adjustments. The officer is the enforcer. This difference is important, in that parents can change the context for the benefit of the child (making enforcement more strict or lenient), while the police officer may not have that freedom (or responsibility).

The impersonal nature of the law (at least without direct interaction with the law-giver) limits its usefulness.

The burden of the law is the knowledge of how imperfect we are. The good the law does is tell us how far away we are from its fulfillment. For example, take a law that says, “Don’t steal.” Well, say you did. Now, because the law exists you can’t escape the fact that you have transgressed it. The law right there in writing.

With an impersonal law what you stole or why you stole it doesn’t matter compared with the fact that you did steal, and the law says you shouldn’t. Context never eliminates guilt. The stealing still happened. However, context can provide space for humanity. You are, after all, more than the sum of your actions (in this case, theft).

Someone who is seen only as a thief is well deserving of a thief’s punishment. Someone who is seen in the glory of the image of God that they bear might still be required to pay a thief’s punishment, but they retain their personhood in the process.

Notably, the burden of the law can be found in applications that aspire to do good (like being kind) as well as prevent evil (like not stealing). This is one of the more insidious natures of law-based systems. Even while attempting to compel goodness the law instills a burden rooted in condemnation.

To get out we might become expert arguers. Consider a parent who sets a law of cleaned rooms for their children. The parent becomes the judge of what a clean room means. The child becomes the defendant of their work in attempting to clean their room. The standard by which a clean room is judged becomes a point of argument. A lot is on the line. No clean room? The child is now a transgressor of the law. No matter how hard they tried. One spec in the wrong place, and the child is guilty. Then the punishment comes.

The thing is that people are imperfect beings by nature, and will, at some point, transgress the law. Therefore to remove the burden of being a transgressor one must logically remove all laws, or seek some other way.

Another way.

We might think of grace as starting with the acknowledgement of the space between the imperfect human and the perfection demanded by the law. Then, continuing and filling that space with love rather than condemnation. Grace is not necessarily giving someone a pass (although it might be in a given instant). Grace is not necessarily helping someone complete the task (although it might be that, too). What Grace does is fill the gap in ways that are good of the individual person in question. Drawing the person towards goodness, without ignoring the reality of the situation.

In a world governed by laws, grace in action might look ridiculous. But ask someone who has been the recipient of grace, and see the look in the eyes when they describe what it felt like. I contend that there is nothing more awe inspiring and truly transformative.

Trip. Fall. Knee. Rock.

I remember looking down and seeing an indentation on my knee. Then blood began to flow from what looked like a pin prick at the center of this hole. I went into shock. This was my first conscious memory of a fall with an “injury.”

Blood. Tears. Pain.

My mother had been walking behind me this whole time and came running towards me as I witnessed the blood continue to flow. She made sure it was just the cut that was the primary concern, then took me back upstairs to our apartment to tend to it.

She touched it. I jumped. Everything was so sensitive. Mom cleaned wound. With every wipe of blood, I flinched. It hurt to touch. I felt exposed and vulnerable. She used an anti-bacterial spray. It tingled. I’d never felt that before. I could see it bubble over the cut. I was crying. She covered the wound with a band-aid, to protect the healing process, and did her best to keep me calm.

My mom, who can’t take the sight of blood, was able to keep herself together enough to help her child remain calm so that she could tend to his wound. That’s love.

I’ve been navigating a few different wounds recently – wounds that aren’t necessarily visible. No, these wounds stem from things like betrayal, loss, and abandonment. They seem to make themselves known in times of significant growth or transition.

I find myself tripping over old thoughts and feelings – experiencing the old wound as if it were for the first time. Only this time, there isn’t someone walking behind me as a run towards the joy that’s set before me. There hasn’t been, in any physical sense, for quite some time.

Kid or not, I still have wounds that need tending. Some have been there for many years. Some feel newer. Sure, I have them, and carry them with me, but I don’t think they run my life. Or do they? I expend effort to work them out and work around them, manage the triggers that they’ve created, and show up in a way that is not solely informed by them. I am more than the sum of my wounds.

At this point in my life it takes effort to uncover them. They remain sensitive to the touch. I am not overly enthusiastic to completely uncover my wounds. They can still hurt. Yet I know that in order for the wound to be tended to there is some exposure, even some manual manipulation that is required. I’ve had enough cuts, bruises, muscle, and bone injuries to know this from experience.

But who will I entrust to touch my wounds? Of course, they have to be experienced. They must be gentle. I would hope they have a calming demeanor. I need to know that even if what they do hurts, it is not their intent. I need to trust that any pain I may experience in this process is temporary and for the sake of freedom from this binding pain. Freedom from having a life organized primarily around these wounds. Freedom from uninterruptible triggers. Freedom from feeling like I have to continually be on guard and protect myself – which is exhausting.

The question remains. Who shall I trust? I’ve tried answering this question with family and friends to varying degrees of success. I have assumed that people who’ve known me for a long time will in fact be able to help. I have assumed that people who had an interest in me would have the desire to know the deeper parts of me. I have assumed that people who said, “If you ever need help…” would be wanting to help with this. I have been made an ass often, but not always.

In reality many have helped. My experience is all over the spectrum from being hurt again to having interactions that were spectacularly meaningful. This strikes as quite normal. No one is perfect, and few human beings can bear the responsibility of healing the wounds of another (seen or unseen). Maybe that’s why medical doctors take an oath to do no harm rather than heal every patient?

But inner wounds are different than physical ones and there are different options for healing.

These inner wounds shape our spirit in specific ways. We become desiring of different things; reactive to different things; and interact in different ways on account of the wounds we experience. So, along with the mental, physical, and social modalities that present solid options along a healing journey, I believe there needs to an option that accounts for the spiritual formation that happens because of wounds. Many propositions exist. The one that I have found most effective in my life, and can speak to, is summed up in the person of Jesus Christ.

The person of Jesus Christ fulfills all the requirements of experience, trustworthiness, and character I have for someone who I would be willing to have touch my wounds. Establishing a tangible and tactile relationship with him turns my entire life into the environment in which my healing journey can to happen. As with any relationship and journey there is an interactive dynamic and continual unfolding. It can take a long time to work out the affects of a wound on a person. As the relationship grows so does my willingness to be opened – to be touched more deeply. With every touch I have found myself more convinced of his love, gentleness, trustworthiness, and experience.

In cultures that are fundamentally communal, the idea of a witness is important. What makes for a good witness and the process of witnessing are agreed upon for the sake of establishing communal trust. I’ve written about what bearing witness might constitute here.

Social media is a great platform for witnessing. We can leave a long trail of documentation that bears witness to our activities and thoughts on any number of channels. Whatever we post is there for everyone to see…forever.

The problem, as many have come to know is that social media is not necessarily a reflection of reality. It is more often a carefully curated selection of media that we choose to post, reflecting how we would like to be seen. Yes, many of us do this in real life, too.

We try to manage impressions.

There is a different way.

Instead of manufacturing a media-based presentation of my life to be my witness, what if I worked so that my very life could be the witness? This is more personal, vulnerable, and genuine. It really only works on a smaller scale where knowing and being known is possible through in-person interactions. In reality, this kind of witnessing is what is happening already, and is practically inescapable.

My life naturally bears witness to the inner landscape that I carry. It bears witness to the spiritual reality that I contend with. If expressed honestly the shape of the spirit that I have will produce actions that naturally reflect it. While others can not see the shape of my spirit (nor should they try), they can easily see my actions, and those can be judged (and should be). I should be quick to note here that clear judgement can happen without any corresponding condemnation.

My life is by no means perfect. You will find a variety of reports from the people I’ve interacted with if you were to survey them. This is to be expected. However, I would hope that the reports you’d receive become progressively more consistent over time, more closely reflecting the kind of life I am aiming to live – the kind of person I am aiming to become.

Some folks might think that just living out what you believe in isn’t enough. “You should be vocal,” they might say. I don’t think there is a rule here. I think the line some folks are pressing on is the idea that we must be effective propagandists for what we believe. In a world filled with propaganda we can’t let other (read: bad) ideas win.

My take is different. I think propaganda is inherently manipulative, and one thing love doesn’t do is manipulate. So I will pass on being a propagandist, but gladly bear witness. For example:

In a world that condemns quickly and often, living as someone who has experienced forgiveness (and being willing to offer the same) may seem outlandish.

In a world that demands punitive justice, being merciful might be considered ridiculous.

In a world that will run you over if you don’t speak up, not speaking out might seem reckless.

In a world that is always at war, working towards peace might seem like a fools errand.

Every one of these actions bears witness to something deeper at work within us. The shape of the spirit of the person who does such things with ease, especially in a world organized against, them bears witness to the possibility of an entirely different world, a different kind of life, and knowledge of the way to get there.

What Happens Next?

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Thanks!

Once again, thank you for being part of this journey. I’m excited about what’s coming and sharing it with you.

I began tap dancing at 3 ½ years old. I got my first paying gig at age seven. I don’t really remember a time in my life when dance, and tap dance in particular wasn’t part of the picture. From dance school, to youth tap ensembles, to being mentored by Gregory Hines, I experienced what becoming a tap dancer was like in the most profound ways. Having a professional career was never the central focus, becoming a tap dancer was.

You might ask, “What’s the difference?” Well, it’s something like the difference between being able to execute a series of behaviors, or trusting that those behaviors will come out naturally even without you having to think about them. Professional careers are based on execution. Identity is about being (or becoming). Of course there is an interaction here, however, there are signs as to which one someone is more concerned with.

Consider the question, “What are you working on?”

If someone immediately tells you about the next job or gig that is on the plate, they may be more focused on their professional career. If the first thing someone tells you about is a particular creative task they are endeavoring to achieve, something they’ve learned, or an interaction they are working through, they may be more wrapped up in the process of becoming.

After more than 40 years of actual tap dancing, the question of how to become a tap dancer began to feel limited. There is something deeper at work – who we are as creatives is directly tied to who we are as people. If we are frustrated, what we create will evoke frustration. If we are joyful, what we create will evoke joy. Whatever is at work in us will come out. No matter how hard we might try, we can’t escape ourselves.

Since realizing this connection, I closed down my tap dance company, Cats Paying Dues, and turned to pursuing a more general question.

How do we become particular kinds of people? And be extension, if what comes out of me is not something I’d like to come out of me, what can I do to change that?

Many will start with identity. While I think identity is an important part of answering this question – my first short film project was entitled IDENTITY: The Andrew Nemr Story – it is only one part of the answer. If identity is a snapshot (a static picture of who we are), formation is the ongoing process of becoming who we are.

To answer the earlier question of “how?” I have become captivated by the process of formation. How did I, the son of immigrants from Lebanon, living the suburbs, hardly athletic, and introverted, become a trusted keeper of the oral tradition of tap dance, performing on stages all over the world, and a trusted teacher guiding others in the way? Deeper still, if that happened to me as a tap dancer, could such a dramatic transformation happen in other areas of my life as well?

Could I become a different kind of person, regardless of my starting point? If my journey through Tap Dance Land is any witness, the answer must be yes. It might not be self-evident, and the journey might be fraught, but the possibility is there. Things can in fact be different.

While I have tap dance as an embodied practice in which I’ve been able to experience a metaphor for formation, we all have something even more potent – we have our lives. Our lives are the embodied experiences through which we can discover what is at work in us, work out any changes we pursue, and reap the rewards of the actions we sow. We all get a life – which really means we all get the opportunity to engage in becoming particular kinds of people. We can become the kind of people whose character is shaped in such a way that our experience of this world is filled and fueled with love.

To become such a person is the adventure of life. It is the thing we all are already a part of. Do I tap dance? Yes. But I’d rather just be a person. That is all anyone needs to be to take on the adventure of becoming. That is enough.

It shouldn’t be surprising then that the look, feel, and organization of the writing here has moved over the years – and it has been 5 years!

Well, I’m moving again.

As of January 1, 2026 I have moved to a new role – CEO of the Nemr Institute. This is a continuation of the journey that began with the Tap Legacy™ Foundation (originally founded by Gregory Hines, Joseph Nemr, and myself). Now I get to lead an organization explicitly addressing the connection between creative expression (or creativity) and spiritual formation (or how we become particular kinds of people). For me to take on this role is an exciting step in the work I’ve been pursuing for that last 20 years.

In support of this exciting move, The Notes are moving, too.

What To Expect

While my opinions here will remain my own and my writing with continue to be posted here, paying subscribers will now be supporting Nemr Institute® – a move based on my personal commitment to the organization.

Things will move, too.

You may have already noticed a new logo and navigation. Here’s what the new landscape looks like:

THE NOTES (Front Page) – All newly written articles exploring the intersection of spiritual formation and creativity, with some featuring my work at the Nemr Institute.

TALKING (formerly Talking Notes) – Podcast featuring Notes I record(ed) and conversations I host(ed).

CREATIVITY (formerly Studio Notes) – Notes featuring specific creative practices, things I’ve made, and things that inspire me.

QUESTIONS (formerly Asking the Questions) – Concise notes exploring a coaching-style question.

THE VAULT (NEW!) – Paid-subscriber-only section featuring my older writing.

THE ARCHIVE – All articles from The Notes. Articles will live here for three years and then move to The Vault. Over the next few weeks, you’ll see articles in The Archive that are over 3 years old make that move.

Where Did All The Tap Dancing Go?

While tap dancing is still my primary creative expression, my work is about life (it actually always has been), and The Notes are primarily about my work – not any single expression. So, my tap dancing is moving.

The Breakdowns will be moving here, but the Tap Dance Notes will remain here in the Archive.

One more thing!

You may have noticed a new section entitled “LEADERBOARD” in the navigation. This is an opportunity for you to refer a friend to The Notes. As a subscriber you can earn rewards (like free months of paid subscription) by referring your friends! You’ll see the buttons to make it happen at the bottom of emails.

That’s it…really.

That’s a lot of movement happening all at once. Enough, I think, for the time being. With all this you can rest assured that The Notes remain an integral part of my work, and will continue to be as I transition into my new role.

Thank you for being a part of the journey, and I look forward to continuing to share more with you along the way.

So basked in love was I as a child that I suffered significant cognitive dissonance as a young adult, when, for the first time in my life, relational presence, consideration, and continuity seemed more transactional if present at all. I found few people who could be counted on to be there, considerate, and continually disposed in the way that my mom had trained me to be able to receive.

This was a hard reality to deal with. I’m an only child. Not only do I enjoy the company of people, I find myself having a striking need of others. Not in the, “I can’t spend time alone,” way – I’m quite fine with that. Rather my need of others comes from a realistic view of my own finite nature. There is only so much I can do, know, or even be, on my own. No, I need people for the journey – because that’s the way the journey happens – with people.

You just never know who the people in your life are going to be. That is unless you have people who make it a point to prioritize their relationship with you. Not just in a general sense, but in a personal one. The other folks that come in and out of our lives just won’t have the same thing about them. They may love us, show up for us, care for us, but that other thing…that thing that makes a relationship sticky…that won’t be there.

Individualists don’t like sticky relationships, or so I’m told. We want individual freedom – to do whatever we want. In back of that sentiment seems to be the idea that we want to do what we want without it affecting anyone else. That way I don’t have to deal with the consequences of my choices as I see them in the reactions of others. But that’s not how love works.

Love has concern. Concern for the good. Concern for your good, and the good of others. And so someone who loves you will want to be sure that the choices you make are good for you. They will want to be sure that the choices they make will be good for you.

This brings another question to light. How can someone know what’s good for you?

With the realities of narcissism, projection, and a host of other relational pathologies, it’s a wonder anyone is able to get close enough to someone else to know. And yet that is precisely what it takes to know what is good for someone. We have to get close.

In Friendship

I have a semi-standing monthly dinner with a group of friends. It is a casual situation that keeps us connected. We eat out so no one is saddled with the work of preparing food or cleaning up. We share what the past month has been like – highlights, challenges, quirks, and wonders. Following one such dinner one of my friends called me. They said, “Hey, we should go to lunch, how about this week?” Though in the middle of a crazy work week, I said, “Yes.”

They had noticed that I was a little off during our dinner and made the time to draw me out and ask questions. “You seemed not quite yourself at dinner…is there something going on?” Our lunch wasn’t long, but we went deep. My friend asked thoughtful questions, helped me find language for some of what was putting me off center, and we both ended up getting emotional. I felt seen, heard, and cared for – and I didn’t do anything to get that. It was the gift of love from a friend who was there, saw me, and reached out.

The Gift

In the wake of my father’s passing, many people reached out. I was flooded with expressions of concern and consideration. In one of the harder moments of my life, it was a lovely feeling to know that so many people cared for me. Knowing what to do for someone who is grieving is challenging, so most of my friends closed their messages with something like, “If there is anything we can do for you let me know.”

This can be taken a few ways – love laying in wait, at the ready, or an expression of willingness, openness to be a part of the process. It can also be taken as an abdication of responsibility. This sounds harsh, but give me a moment to work this out.

In the case of grief or sickness or pain, the person hurting likely has their hands full. Identifying and articulating a particular need, and finding the friend most likely to be able to fulfill that need, is lower on the list than dealing with what is right in front of them. In this case, who then has the greater capacity for observation and action?

The one who acts is the one who gives the gift. They are the ones who step out of their normal programming for the sake of the other. They are the ones that love.

A Way

Not sure how to give such a gift? It’s not easy, especially in times of severe stress. Here is something that has helped me. Pause, take the time to bear witness, consider what you see, ask a few questions, then try something small – a message, a card, a phone call, or taking on a simple task.

The Pause – This interrupts whatever habit we have – whether we like to jump in and takeover, too soon or quickly, or would rather withdraw, being too slow to act.

Bearing Witness – This requires being present, showing up, and just observing. Here we let the person going through it just be, but we are there with them. We witness their state. Our presence honors the reality of the situation.

Ask a few questions – This helps us learn how we, by being curious, can unveil unseen realities. “What have the hardest parts of this been?” “Where does it hurt most?” “What have been some moments of relief?” These are all good questions, and unveil part of the reality that can otherwise remain hidden.

Starting with something small – This is a great way of building a habit. We shouldn’t have an expectation of ourselves to be effectual or competent in challenging situations without some kind of practice. If we end up effectual or competent without practice that is a miracle. The more common path begins with small things, and with action that slowly grows into familiarity, competence, confidence, and the ability to effect situations for the good on a regular and natural basis.

This simple process can be applied to any situation, and itself can become habitual. Something happens – pause, bear witness, ask a few questions, and start with something small. The pause will become shorter, the bearing and witnessing will become easier, the questions will come more naturally, and the small thing will eventually become a large thing. This, until our ability to be present and loving, may seem to others as a simple and natural part of who we are – never going away.

I have a hard time in spaces like that, having a predisposition of being open. That just means that I am liable to take in everything – and there would be a lot to take in. I’d be overrun with propositions – here, you need this; you should buy this; you should be living like this. I’d likely get overwhelmed, and need some time away.

This is precisely the landscape I find when I explore any one of the social media platforms. While each one has its own take, none escape the fact that the things we post emanate from a deeper truth. As George Orwell observed, “All art is propaganda.” That is to say that everything we express speaks to something that we believe – or deeper still, something that we are. The expression – be it a piece of visual art, or a social media post – can’t escape it. As much as we might try, we can’t escape ourselves.

We can’t escape the reality that what we say, how we show up, and what we pursue, are all based in large part on the invisible landscape of our person (including our desires, character, hopes, thoughts, habitual actions and more). Instead of running away, better to try to face it. There is a way to get to know what is in there, and engage in changing it (if we want). A large part of this process is making choices about what we think is good and right and true. Only then might we be clear sighted in the face of opposing propositions.

An Stark Example

While exploring LinkedIn I came upon this video.

Mark Bowden is a prominent speaker and teacher in the business world focusing on body language and communication. In this video he proposes the advantages – even necessity – of lying. He is clear about his proposition, doesn’t mince words, and gives a compelling example as to why his proposition is true.

There is another competing proposition that speaks to the idea of lying. It was once quite popular, and you may recognize it. In the old English, it is often recalled as, “Thou shalt not lie.” I actually like the longer statement, from which the short hand is derived. Still in the older English, “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.”

Welcome to the open market. Where a business consultant who specializes in body language and communication is now a spokesperson for a particular ethic on moral living. I don’t mean to single out Mr. Bowden. He is one of many who are publicly espousing entire worldviews under the guise of technical solves for the challenges of life.

You wouldn’t want to harm someone with your words. And we all know that the truth hurts. Therefore lying is permissible. And here is one way you can do that well.

Goal, reality, justification, technique – all presented in a tightly packaged take.

The competing proposition – living a good life without lying – is not often pitched as tightly. It feels like the harder road to travel. Folks might say, “If you never lie, you don’t have to keep track of all the lies you told.” That’s just one defense for having an easier life if you didn’t lie. Then again, someone else might say, “Lying is a necessary evil.” This seems more honest, acknowledging the fact that lying is not good, but considering it necessary in light of the state of the world. Still, the framing is the same. I want a life that has ease, or success, in the midst of a world seems effectively organized against such things.

What I’m scratching at here is the idea that both propositions speak to deeper questions and realities. They offer answers in response to those questions, without necessarily flushing out the entire conversation. Of course, there is little time on a social media post to flush out much of anything. But in a piece of writing like this, or better, in conversation, we can give more time to this important ideas.

When confronted with these two competing propositions here are some of the questions that come to mind:

• What kind of world would I live in if lying was an accepted form of communication?

• What kind of world would I live in if not bearing false witness was the norm?

• What would happen to my relationships?

• What would happen to the way agreements are reached?

Let’s start with the idea of bearing false witness. We can acknowledge that we see and know only in part. We are imperfect with our representation of the world around us. We don’t have all the answers. However, telling the truth and having all the answers are two different things. I don’t think we are called to have all the answers. What keeping ourselves from bearing false witness is asking of us is to be a trustworthy witness for our neighbor. That is to represent reality to the best of our ability for those we interact with.

If we live in relationships in which this is the dynamic – many people attempting to represent reality to the best of their abilities with one another – a few things would automatically end. The use of language for manipulation would have little ground to stand on in such a community. Folks would relate from a place of trust – not only in the answers but in the process – that the intention in the group would be to represent reality as they see it with one another. I would trust that you would be doing that and vice versa. There would likely be more openness to learning from one another in such cases.

The opposite is also true. If these same people had to navigate a landscape of communication in which lying was acceptable, manipulation would have an easy foothold. Trust would be harder to come by, as no one would know whether they are being lied to, or not. Folks would become guarded if nothing else. This very necessary guarding would limit the very exchange of vision and experience that is necessary to learn and grow and see a complete representation of reality – to be together.

A simple idea – lying is necessary to navigate this world for our own sakes – leads to a world in which trust is impossible to achieve. There is a paraphrase that may be worthwhile to share here. I first heard it from Dallas Willard, and it speaks to the question and resistance underneath much of the opposition. Instead of, “Thou shalt not lie,” what if we heard, “You can live the good life without lying,” or deeper still, “You can live the good life without being a false witness to those near you.

But the Truth Hurts

Bowden proposes that the reason for lying is in consideration or someone else’s feelings. He creates the avatar of the lier as a good person. This is a convincing turn. No one wants to be the cause of someone else’s pain. But there is something deeper going on here.

The truth hurts like lifting weights hurts. It bears witness against our desired perception of reality. We wish the world was a certain way, and the truth shows us otherwise. We think we are strong and the weight either proves or disproves our point. We either confirm our thinking, or are caught in a kind of conundrum. We are found out to be wrong.

Such is the experience of bumping into reality. However, reality is better than illusion or delusion. Although pain and sadness are often consequences, discovering the reality of a situation is better than giving time and effort to something that isn’t as it seems. Having a clear vision of reality allows for clearer thinking, surer action, and a more integrated sense of being.

Truth in Love

All this talk about lying or truth-telling, illusion or reality, can miss the point. Either action can be measured against a different ethic – love.

• Is it ever loving to bear false witness against your neighbor?

• Is it ever loving to tell the truth against your neighbor?

• Is it ever loving to dodge the consequences of reality by lying?

• Is it ever loving to bear the consequences of reality by accepting the truth?

• Is it ever loving to create an illusion through lying (to yourself or others)?

• Is it ever loving to seek the reality of a situation by attempting to discern the truth (by yourself or with others)?

In reality seeking, seeing, and sharing the truth is a function of love. It is a function of willing the good of ourselves and those around us. Love engenders trust, and trust is based on honesty, and honesty is based on sharing the truth – whatever that looks like for you.

I honestly think it’s better to contend with the dire and hopeful nature of reality as it is revealed to each of us, than try to make up some other story just to feel better. I really believe that the good life is available to each one of us without having to lie to get it. Whatever we know of reality is our starting point – and having a clear starting point is a good thing.

Responsibilities can turn into obligations. Obligations have a way of denying or suppressing the human will – they become an energy zap. There is a single word that is a tell-tale sign of a task becoming an obligation: “Should.”

• I should organize my files.

• I should mow the lawn.

• I should check-in with my friend, or brother, or sister, or mother, or father.

• I should do my taxes.

• I should ______________.

Do any of these resonate? If I hear these kinds of statements coming out of someone (including myself), I will respond, “It sounds like you are ‘shoulding’ all over yourself.” Every statement is an imposition. Something external is pressing upon you, compelling you to act.

It’s not that I want to, or I think it would good. It’s just that I should.

But energy and liveliness comes from a feeling of freedom, an honoring of the will, and a desire to do the thing. How can we reconcile the idea that there are things that need to be done (even that we might not want to do), while avoiding the idea of being obliged?

Should to Could

The first move is from should to could. Rather than relating to tasks with the imposition of “should” we can give ourselves room to choose by saying “could.” This tiny move creates just enough space to make whatever happens next a personal choice.

Say I have 30 minutes of unscheduled time that opened up. I could dump a ton of should’s on myself, or I could float a list of could’s. The should’s would likely bear down on me defeating any opportunity for liveliness. A list of could’s present possibility, allowing for experimentation, discovery, and the exercise of choice.

Making such a list exercises our imagination, giving us a moment free from obligations. We know they are there, but we can take a few minutes to imagine all the things we could do with the time we have been given.

• When considering possible actions, ask, “What could I do?”

Could to Good

This second move is important in order to fulfill responsibilities, especially those that we may not like or enjoy. I have my 30 minutes and a list of could’s. That list includes things that might be better to do than others, regardless of our feeling about them. Of everything on my list, I might say, “I want to pick the thing I think would be good to do,” given the circumstances. The more I practice picking a good thing from my list of could’s the more I can begin to trust my chooser. Of course, this may take some experimentation, more than a few failures, and continual adjustment. This is part of the process of formation.

• For any list of could’s, ask, “What is good to do?”

What is good?

What happens as a natural result of asking these questions is a lived embodiment of what you think is good. Your definition will evolve over time, of course. This is an ongoing process that leads to two distinct outcomes: an active imagination while making a list of could’s, and a trustworthy chooser that knows what good things to choose from the list.

But none of this would happen without asking the question.

After a significant event – especially one that is jarring and difficult to process – there are a series of voices that show up to tell us how we should think and feel about it. The more cataclysmic the event, the louder the voices and the longer they last.

If given the benefit of the doubt, these voices show up as guides. Whether in the news, late night talk-shows, or social media, their talking points take on the following basic form: “The appropriate response to [insert challenging situation here] as [Liberals, Christians, Conservatives, Democrats, Republicans, Humanists, etc.] is [fill in the proposed response].”

This is not an inherently bad thing. If I am in a state of overwhelm, it is helpful to hear a voice that provides some direction and stability. If I am seeking guidance, it is helpful to find a guide. We need trustworthy voices in our lives, especially in challenging times.

The reality is that in most cases, the way these voices show up today undermines the very process of formation we need to live well, in challenging times or otherwise. That process of formation is based on learning through interaction and discovery.

It is very difficult to have learning based on individual discovery in a one-to-many environment. One-to-many environments include any kind of mass media, conventions, lecture halls, or the like. The conversation we have about class size in public school settings is undergirded by our understanding that the more personal attention a student gets the better for their learning journey.

One-to-many environments are everywhere. Performance venues are designed for one-to-many presentations. One speaker presents to a room of 1500 people. One band to an arena of 20,000 people. Social media is also a one-to-many environment. Actually, any media is a one-to-many environment. The whole point of media is to scale the delivery of a single message to the largest possible number of people. Music streams and digital videos now play to millions. Cable news ratings are measured in the millions of viewers for a single channel or show. By nature, these environments are designed to facilitate the promotion of an idea through repetition, not the process of learning through individual discovery.

So, when guides appear on social media, with a new video, or on a cable news show, the best they can do is state their case. The more convincing guides have data or a play-to-emotion, or both, to give their case weight. Regardless, we, the viewers, are left to process our own resonance and reality compared with that of the guide.

I’ve been calling these talking heads guides, but they are more like sign posts. They stand for something, or point to something, but there is little possibility for our interaction with them in any really way. And interaction is what is required for formation.

Listen to one of these signposts enough and we might adopt language, develop a particular mental model, of feel like we’re a part of their group. The connection ends there. We are responsible in our own lives for the working out of the ideas the signpost is espousing. The signpost is not our teacher. We can’t go back to them with results after attempting to apply one of their ideas and receive feedback.

There is a lot of good from having clear signposts in one’s life. Imagine driving down a highway with no signage. We’d likely be lost quicker than we think. But signposts don’t teach you how to drive, they just tell you about the geography. Actual learning and the development of knowledge happens at a level of intimacy and experience that is simply unavailable from signposts. It might feel like a signpost is speaking just to you, and that can be comforting, but I can almost guarantee that the signpost doesn’t know you.

Instead of talking at you as a signpost might, a true guide or teacher would create a space of safe exploration and discovery. They would likely have a sense of your hopes, may ask some probing questions, and take interest in your own interpretation of what they are saying. There is likely great opportunity for friendship to develop between teacher and student in this case because there is genuine care and consideration. The questions asked will also likely be open-ended. They are meant to elicit honest reflection. Questions like:

• How did you feel when you first heard the news?

• How are you feeling about the situation now?

• What do you think has been lost (or gained)?

• What things might you do moving forward?

• What, if anything, do you want to remember of what has been lost (or gained)?

Can you imagine a signpost guiding their viewers through a series of open-ended questions for the sake of processing a dramatic event? I would love to see that. I don’t blame them for not trying to do it. It isn’t easy. I once tried to facilitate exercises based on open-ended questions and contemplation in a one-to-many environment and it was difficult. Possible, but difficult. When the environment doesn’t promote a particular method, the method ends up by the wayside.

This is unfortunate for multiple reasons.

First, is that we end up being talked at in a parent-to-child conversation by people who don’t really know us. We might share some ideas, but there is no knowledge of individual personality. A tribal mentality can develop based on expressing similar ideas. “If you listen to this signpost you must believe these things.” We find our in-group and know our out-group. This assumption stunts individual variance (and be extension individual growth).

The parent-to-child interaction does the same. It becomes assumed that the sign post is smart, and has all the information, while we aren’t and don’t. We might never be as “smart” as they are and likely never will have “all the information.” This doesn’t mean we can’t build the muscle of coming to our own conclusions, acting on them to test them out, and reaping the consequences. In fact we must. This is learning in action, literally, but is discouraged in one-to-many environments. It may feel safer to just follow the guide. We get stuck in the seat of a perpetual student at the feet of a teacher who can’t ever really know what we need.

Being told how to think or feel from a signpost shortcuts possible moments of discovery. It doesn’t really matter how you are feeling. The signpost will tell you the appropriate way to feel. It doesn’t really matter what you think. The signpost will tell you the appropriate interpretation of the situation. In effect, you don’t really matter. What matters is that you conform to the appropriate expression of feelings and interpretation of the situation. This aligns you with the group of similar viewers, followers, or thinkers, and suppresses the practice of individuation – the acknowledgement and development of your way of thinking, feeling, and acting.

Over time, your alignment with the group supersedes your individual persona. If the group were known, loving, and tested to be acting in ways that considered you, and what is best for you, this wouldn’t be bad. But that is a high call (if not impossible) for the kind of group that gathers around a signpost.

Do it Different

Here is something we can do to interrupt the situation. Take literally any situation – a personal grievance, a challenge you’re facing, a success you are experiencing. Give yourself and others around you some space and time with it. Use the space and time to consider some of the open-ended questions listed above. Be as honest as you can be with your answers. If you’re processing alone, share the questions and answers with a trusted friend or two who would want to reflect with you.

Agree to slow down the pace of your conversation. This might look like taking a pause before responding to one another – giving yourself time to observe your thoughts and feelings even as you share. Observe the use of any cliches or catch phrases. Cliches and catch phrases are effectively assumptions. Instead of leaning on those assumptions, ask each other, “What do I really mean by that?”

Be curious – allowing any answer to come to the surface and be expressed – observing thoughts and feelings as if they were novelties. We might hear ourselves say something and say, “Oh, I didn’t expect that to come out. I wonder what that’s about?”

This is just a start toward disrupting a world in which signposts rule. It is just a start toward interrupting a formation in which the appropriate expression is more important than the honest one. It is just the start toward acquiring the skills and experience of a guide, for the benefit of yourself and those around you. The world after all is in need of guides not just signposts.

If there is anything that is true about 2025, it is that it has been a full year.

For me, a number of works that have been a long time in the making came to fruition. Some older projects have found new life. Even within the final weeks there are things that are happening that continue to fuel the peculiar direction of my work.

First, a word of thanks. To everyone who has been a part of my 2025 I want to thank you. To the collaborators, vendors, venues, supporters, and partners who were part of making my work come to life, thank you. To the folks who have purchased books, come to events, watched the videos, read the writing, and listened to the podcasts, thank you. To the coaching clients who have entrusted me to accompany their journeys, thank you. And lastly, to the folks who brought me into their work this past year, whether as an adjudicator, performer, or teacher, thank you.

As always, there may be too many things to remember to an exhaustive list here, so a few highlights will have to do.

FEEL

• I produced and performed a 12-hour overnight solo improvised tap dance as part of the immersive theater event entitled, Dark Night Live (more below).

• Identity: The Andrew Nemr Story was used as part of an identity formation unit at a New York City Public School – as a special treat I zoomed in to have a conversation with the students at the end of their unit!

MOVE

• The publication of The Tap Dance Method book became a reality this year.

• I was a guest faculty member of Sarah Reich’s Tap Music Project.

• I presented a workshop at the National Dance Education Organization National Conference (my third in a row!).

• I continued training tap dancers and tap dance educators both in-person and remotely. This year some of my students were in cities as far reaching as Boise (Idaho), Warsaw (Poland), and Laos (Cambodia)!

GROW

• I received my first coaching credential – TQ Navigating Transitions – allowing me to provide even more tools to clients as they journey.

• I’ve had the great pleasure of coaching wonderful clients in finding rest, getting unstuck, and navigating major transitions.

• The Spiritual Formation for Artist Course that I developed in collaboration with Forefront Festival was featured in John Ortberg’s new Formation Newsletter!

THINK

• - After a few hiccups, I’ve regained a semi-regular writing practice here at The Notes!

• - The Nemr Institute produced its first major project – Dark Night – a multi-disciplinary exploration of the dark night of the soul, honoring the enduring spirit within us all. This project marks the sharing of a core idea for the Institute – that creative projects can be endeavored to bring spiritual and unseen realities to life in ways that invite and inspire shifts in everyone involved.

LOVE

• My most formative experience was my personal journey through Dark Night (which I talk about here). Possibly the most profound experience I’ve had as a performer and producer. I’ve never felt touched by God in the same way before…and it continues.

• I have experienced joy and wonder in new friendships, extended patience, radical generosity, and softening hearts.

• While I dabbled in a few books, I got through A Peace to End All Peace and The Damascus Events. I would highly recommend these if you have any interest in how the modern-day Middle East came to be.

• In these final weeks I have begun to read The Gift by Lewis Hyde. The book has been sitting on my shelf for at least 10 years. Recommended by my friend, Makoto Fujimura, I’m only a few pages in and have already found it beneficial. If you are a creative or just have an interest in the history and spiritual effect of gift-giving, read this book.

LOOKING FORWARD

Well, that’s it folks. That’s the year. I’ll be stepping away from the socials for a bit before returning in January. In the meantime, if you’d like to contribute to the ongoing expansion of this work in a unique way, here are two invitations:

• 100x50 – Support the ongoing work of Nemr Institute, with a monthly gift. Even $10/month is significant in supporting the development, production, and delivery of projects like Dark Night.

• Subscribe to The Notes – If the writing I do here has been a benefit, consider becoming a paying supporter.

Subscribe now

Or forward this note to a friend. Think of it as a gift :-)

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Until 2026, may you and yours be found immersed in a community of love,

Andrew-

Almost every talking head I’ve listened to has a pitch. They are saying, “I’m sharing special information with you that will change your life for the good.” It doesn’t matter whether they are a pop-culture phenom, spiritualist, comedian-turned-political-analyst, or celebrity pastor. The back side of the pitch is something like, “If you don’t follow me, you’ll miss out on the goodness.” This is my fear of missing out speaking. I find myself attracted to these types of people who seem to have “figured it out” – whatever that means.

Isn’t that what seeking the truth is about? I want to know what is true about the world. I want to know so that I can make good choices and live a good life _ to be good. This isn’t only an existential exercise. My pursuit affects my mental, emotional, and physical well-being, and my relationships in concrete ways. The pursuit is worthwhile; the choice of who to follow is significant; the outcomes potentially world changing.

When I first realized how many voices I had allowed to guide my thinking I had to take significant time away from listening. No more podcasts or videos for a while. Around the same time I experienced a series of events that pointed to Jesus’s reliability and trustworthiness. But trust is an ongoing development. As with any relationship, trusting someone with one area of life does not make them automatically trustworthy in every other area of life. I might trust someone to help me with an important task, but not to hold space for the sharing of my feelings. As such my trust in Jesus has developed over time, and is a continual journey.

Part of this journey has been considering the idea that everything about Jesus’s life was on purpose. If he was who he was, then he could have come at any time in history, in any geography, to any particular people, and seemingly achieved the same result – to be a clearer revelation of reality than anything before or after. Another way of saying this is that there is an aspect of choice to his life that I have found beneficial to consider.

I run in a number of different circles – think right-leaning, left-leaning, creative, analytic, legalistic, freedom-loving. This is one of the reasons I try to avoid in-circle language, or assumption of knowledge. Both short-cut learning [link], but I digress. In some of the circles I run in the idea of empire seems to be a common topic of interest. Empire is it’s own stereotype that seems to mean institutions and hierarchies of power at the largest of scales that are employed in the name of human flourishing using the tools of imposition, exploitation, the conquering of others, dehumanization, and the forced or compelled extraction of goods and services.

This is not only a historical idea. I have heard many point to a number of contemporary nation states and call them out as examples “empire.” Such statements can be evocative and generate a significant amount of fear. After all, who wants to live under a government that says they are for you, or humanity in general, while using soft or hard power to compel others to fulfill the needs of the government – whatever those might be?

You can’t escape empire.

The idea of empire paints a picture in which the evil that flows through people is almost unavoidable. It is scaled and imposed upon through the very institutions that are said to be there for your good. What then are we to do? Or to return to a recurring question, “How might we then live?” Another way to frame the question might be, “If I find myself in an empire, what is the good life?” Here, asking the right question is especially important. If we resonate with the idea of empire – and the seemingly evil nature of such things – we might want to jump to something like, “How can we make empire good?” Or, “How can we work to dismantle, resist, or destroy the empire that is evil?” The culture that we are immersed in will have its own propositions, too, some informed by the organization of the empire itself.

This is not the place for an exploration of those questions in specific. Rather I am writing to highlight a fact, and my own recent revelation, that has helped me consider Jesus’s life a trustworthy guide, even in the context of the challenge posed by the idea of empire. Simply, that Jesus came in Rome.

Rome is one of the empires that remain prominent in the imagination of the western world. While the victors write the history books, Rome seems to have garnered such a stature not just because they won (they didn’t), but because of key innovations in a variety of areas of life. Whether architecture (the arch and aqueducts), war (the phalanx), or government (the Roman senate), there is enough that captivates those interested in such areas to keep the Roman Empire interesting. The amount of destruction perpetuated by the Roman Empire is equally compelling. At its height, Rome had conquered much of modern day Western Europe (including Britain), Turkey and the Middle East, and Northern Africa. Over the course of the empire (approximately nine centuries) some estimates have tens of millions of people killed through war and war related activities (including the fall of the empire itself).

You can live well in empire.

This is the landscape into which Jesus comes, and says, “Follow me.”

This recent revelation helped me feel like I could expand my trust my in Jesus with specific regard to the moment of world history that I find myself in – one that feels somehow more and more unstable and out of my own control. If he had come to a council-based tribe, living in relative peace with all its neighbors, his life would have less for me to observe – to learn from.

Instead, I can look to the records and testimonies of Jesus’s life – the way he interacted with people from a variety of lineages, social statures, and life circumstances, and the stories he told and deeds he did to unmask reality in a world organized against it. I can look at the life he was able to lead – one of compassion, clarity, and love (to say little of anything else) – in the midst of Rome. I can ask, “How did he do that?” I can ask, “How can I do that?” I can engage in conversation, pursue answers, and ultimately work out my journey – finding answers to those very questions.

Most importantly I can follow this teacher trusting that what he will teach me is relevant in the particular time and place I find myself.

There are two general ideas around what change is. One is behavior modification. The other is spiritual transformation. Both have good outcomes, but they are not the same.

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In this recent instagram clip from this podcast Pete is found deconstructing the joke. I love it when writers do this. He goes slowly. Pay attention and we can begin to see how the joke works. One line sets up the next, setting up a laugh. It’s quite skillful.

For all his skill using language and instigating laughter, Pete gets something really big really wrong. As many times as I’ve heard the joke at pace, and laughed, I didn’t notice the mistake until I listened to him tell the joke slowly.

Let’s take a look.

I’ve written out the joke here, editing for harsh language, alongside my own commentary, beat by beat:

Pete begins,

Some people say nothing created the universe, which is the funniest guess. They say God doesn’t exist.

He sets up the Atheist point of view, and where he stands in the argument. This checks out.

Yeah maybe, but you know what definitely doesn’t exist. Nothing. That’s defining characteristic of nothing, that it doesn’t exist.

He sets up the logical falsity of the Atheist position. This also checks out.

So what are we talking about? You’re either talking about nothing, something you can’t see, touch, taste, photograph, and science can’t prove, created the universe. Or God, something you can’t see, touch, taste, photograph, and science can’t prove, created the universe.

Here Pete begins his journey towards reconciling the two positions. This is admittedly a broad-brushed comparison designed for impact, not accuracy. I’ll concede the comparison – although many have experienced seeing God – because there’s something more important that comes up later.

If one of the things your nothing does is spontaneously erupt into everything. That’s a pretty magical nothing, you guys.

Pete continues his journey of comically comparing the two sides. I find it striking that he chooses to use the word magical here. Not fantastic, supernatural, or even miraculous. In the book of Exodus in the Old Testament, there is a distinction set between the miracles done by the God of the Hebrews through Moses and the works done by the magicians of Pharaoh’s court. This initial distinction eventually develops into a distrust, animosity, and outright opposition towards anything even resembling magic by many in the Christian faith. Nice word choice, Pete.

Then ask the nothing people what happens when you die, they’ll tell you, “You go back into nothing.” You mean you merge back with your creator? That’s heaven!

That’s the punchline. Heaven is the punchline. Powerful. It lands every time. After all, heaven is when you go back to your creator, right? In the video Pete explains that what he’s trying to do is just say that nothing and God are two words we use to describe a mystery. We are more similar than we are different. Therefore, we should be working together rather than fighting.

This is an expression of classic mysticism and suffers from the same lack of concreteness and differentiation that is necessary to lead someone into the very disposition Pete is talking about.

On of the propositions of Jesus Christ is the idea that heaven has a two way direction. It is not only what happens when we die – us going towards heaven. It is what God has done through Jesus, and continues to do with his Spirit today – heaven coming to earth, and to each one of us.

The basic proposition is that a life with God is something that we can experience beginning now. We don’t have to wait. There is an open invitation, a way, and the means made available to journey towards this. It is this very life with God that leads to miraculous transformation in a person.

This is not, “just try to live a good life, and hope you get into heaven in the end,” religion.

Pete’s punchline relies on the idea that the experience of heaven is reserved for after death. It is a place that we go only after we die. Or deeper, that one of the key things religions disagree on is what happens after we die. But if we’re more similar than different in this respect, why are we fighting?

Point taken. However, there are two ways to attempt to circumvent division. One is to minimize differences. The other is to increase our capacity to love.

From the perspective of a mystic – that is someone who has a personal relationship with God – differences are minimized because the individuals capacity for love is increased. There is wonder and freedom in the life of the mystic because of their experience of love. But that love is concrete. And the way to that life is concrete.

Pete’s joke falls apart when we consider the two-way direction of heaven that Jesus proposes. Imagine trying to compare heaven breaking into the our earthly experience to a magical nothing breaking into the it. What would the characteristics of a life with a magical nothing be? How would a life with a magical nothing change you?

The transformative power of a life with God is there because God is a persona, evidenced in the person of Jesus Christ, and accessible to us through spiritual relationship. God can know us, and we can know God – at least enough to be changed.

While it is honorable to seek connection with others, especially with those who may have different ideas, there is a danger in desiring connection over reality. The reality is that propositions of life differ in concrete ways. Some lead to freedom and wonder and an outpouring of love. Others don’t. In this case, a faith that is rooted in love, and journeys toward a union with divine love is what actually allows connections across divides to be made in the first place. It’s not nothing.

After three years of hosting The Breakdowns on Substack, it’s time for a change.

The Breakdowns are getting their own home.

At tapdancebreakdowns.com you will be able to browse all the tutorials by release date as well as search the entire catalogue of over 100 episodes. New tutorials will be added regularly, and all episodes will be tagged by level, key vocabulary, skill set, and more.

As a subscriber to the notes you’ll received a special introductory offer when the site goes live in December. For now I’m excited to share this fun video I made announcing the news:

Let me know what you think!

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I thought I’d be talking for 20min. A TED Talk length would be nice. We’d have plenty of time for questions, conversation, and hang. After all, there were plenty of snacks to dig into.

What actually happened was more like time traveling.

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I like to shop via inspiration, especially with books. I might feel drawn to a section of the display, a particular author or image, and begin to read a page or two. I might even pick up a book and walk with it for a bit before making a final choice.

At Costco I couldn’t get lost in shelves and shelves of a single category of book bindings, reading title after title. Everything was laid out, and I would see everything at one time. The landscape I had to explore was at the mercy of the Costco book buyer. In a world that would soon see Amazon out-inventory the likes of Borders and Waldenbooks, this limitation was a beautiful experience. It was reminiscent of walking into a local bookstore and asking, “What have you got for me today?”

That’s the conversation I would have in my head as I approached the table. I would ask, “What might be here for me, today?” As I did, I could feel the anticipation rise within me. My eyes would scan the book covers. This book featuring a hero image of the author, that book emblazoned with text – it’s title and author’s name yelling out to me. Another book inviting me closer with a tiny tagline. The selection would always be varied.

This time I found a book that would change my life – literally. The cover – featuring black and orange text, and photos of athletic types in various positions of exercise – was both attracting and curiosity-inducing. “The Whartons’ Complete Book of Fitness” was nestled amongst New York Times bestsellers, children’s books, and handful of popular box sets. It was a combined edition of three separate books by Jim and Phil Wharton describing their unique approach to flexibility, strength, and cardiovascular health. It was big.

I picked up the book and read a little from the introduction. It was straightforward, and proposed a method of flexibility training that resonated with my chronically tight tap dancer’s body. Active-Isolated Flexibility, or dynamic stretching (although Jim never liked that term), has become common place in the last 20 years, but in 2004 it was like a light bulb had just turned on for me, and I hadn’t even bought the book yet!

This was it. This was the book for me. The Costco book-buyer was now unwittingly a part of my health-and-wellness journey. I bought the book and began reading and attempting the Wharton’s prescriptions as soon as I could. I took the book in order – flexibility first, then strength, and finally cardio. Trying to bring to life a physical activity from a book is a ridiculous endeavor – I write about this in the introduction to The Tap Dance Method – but I tried. I found something that would work as a rope, and tried to mimic the positions and movements described in the book. I felt awkward and eventually gave up. I needed a person.

In the book I noticed a mention of the Wharton Clinic and a corresponding phone number. They were close! If need be, I could call, set up an appointment, have a session, and figure this out. But in pure “I don’t need that right now” fashion, I never called, choosing rather to file that information away. The book lay dormant until an impact injury sidelined me.

I’m about to teach class at Broadway Dance Center in New York City. A student asks me to demonstrate an Over-The-Top (a flying step in which the dancer literally jumps over their own leg, jumping off and landing on a single leg). I say yes, jump, land, and feel an twinge on the right side of my upper back. Something had happened. Just below my neck, on the right side of my spine, I could feel the knot, but I had a 90 minute class to teach, so I did.

The next morning I woke up and could not move my head without pain. The range of motion in my neck was severely limited. I had a legitimate injury, and I knew exactly why. This wasn’t something I would shake off, or power through. Who could help me? The Whartons. I made the call, and set up an appointment.

The Wharton Clinic was a small space in the lobby of an apartment building in the Upper West Side of New York City. There were two rooms. One had the front desk, resistance training equipment, restroom, and back office. The other had two massage tables. Everything was proprietary. The Whartons built their own tables, designed their own equipment, and created their own world into which they gently invited clients.

My first session was two hours of teaching and learning with Jim Wharton himself. I discovered how their system really worked, their theory of change, new things about my own body, and how I could deeply engage with my physical health and well-being. The Wharton system became (and still is) a core aspect of my physical practice. I apprenticed with Jim, and got credentialed to teach their system. I taught the group stretching for New York Road Runners for a few years, too. Over the course of my career I’ve continually tapped Jim and Phil for their expertise. They have worked me through several impact and repetitive stress injuries, helping me to continue doing the demanding work of tap dancing whether on the stage or in the classroom.

Through the ebbs and flows of life whenever I need a reset, I return to my rope and the Wharton routine. Whenever I’m preparing for significant work it is the Whartons’ ideas that are the foundation of my training. This is not an exaggeration.

It’s the spring of 2025 and I’m shopping at Costco. I go to peruse the book section only to discover that the section doesn’t exist. Had they moved the section? Am I missing something? I feel disoriented. I search for an employee and ask where I can find the books. Their response was to the point. “Oh, we don’t carry books anymore. We haven’t for little bit now.” Had I not been to Costco in that long? In an instant my world shifted.

An era is gone. Gone are the opportunities for any future moments perusing, discovering, and being impacted by books from Costco. In the same moment I realize I’ve lost touch with the Whartons, too. I’ll do what I can to reconnect with Jim and Phil. I’ll do what I can to continue to search for the book that is waiting somewhere for me.

There will be other books, and other friendships to be sure. But for now I think its enough for me to feel sad for the losses and joy for all the goodness that came from a single purchase of a book from Costco.

This article will be different.

Rather than taking a significant amount of space trying to make something abstract concrete, I anticipate this to be shorter and plainer (and more personal).

The assassination of Charlie Kirk has been a lightning rod of an event (at least in the United States), if nothing else. For someone who has never listened to a complete recording of his, I found myself mourning much more than expected. I count myself sensitive to the pervasiveness of both good and evil in the world, subject to overwhelm on account of both, and found this event to wash me over with a sense of deep sadness.

I want to sit with that for a moment. I am trying to take the advice of my dear friend and fellow artist Tony Yazbeck to, “feel all your feelings.” We’re working on it.

One way I have tried is to look for resonance in community. I’ve asked myself, “Where might there be other people who just want to sit with there sadness?” I check my social media feeds, and check in with some of my friends. The conversations I’ve had with friends have been helpful. My social media feeds, less so…much less so.

I have always thought of social media as more media than social, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but this has been different. I could hardly find a single post that created a space of reflection, offered time to feel, or anything other than a direct straightforward interpretation of the event – natural skewed to a particular perspective.

Many took to the airwaves to guide their audience in how they should feel. I even heard broadcasters on news-based podcasts bring on guests to discuss what “someone’s appropriate response” to the event should be.

Are we really in a place where the adult population of the nation requires that kind of guidance? And if we are, is the best thing to continue to spoon feed behavioral prescriptions? What happens if I don’t hit the prescribed mark? Do I fail somehow as a human being?

I just want to be sad. At least for a moment. Is that too much to ask?

Without a space of resonance to be a part of, I resolved to allow myself the time and space to be sad on my own. I’m not even looking for comfort. I trust that will come in due time. I have some experience with grieving.

Right now, I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to be smart, or right, or angry. I don’t want to process, or figure it out, or take up a banner, or never forget. I don’t want to think about all the good, or remember, or keep going. I don’t want to give attention to any other voice pulling in one direction or the other.

I want a pause. I want time. I want space. I want what is necessary, and good, and frankly beautiful. To honor the real emotions that are coming up, to sit with them and inquire about them, and to have their company. I had literally no connection to Charlie Kirk other than the random clips that would find there way to my social media feeds. The feelings that are coming up are a response to something much deeper, and warrant attention.

There is plenty of responsibility to attend to. There is plenty of effect to anticipate and navigate. But maybe one way to stabilize the ever-changing landscape that is reality is to hold the line of our person, giving ourselves the time and space necessary to work out our thoughts and feelings, before anyone else tells us what we should be thinking and feeling.

Coaches are supposed to help us navigate the space between where we are and where we want to be.

Coaching happens in a dynamic context. It is not stagnant. It isn’t taking a car to the shop to have it tuned-up or fixed. Life doesn’t necessarily stop for the sake of change.

Rather, change happens while life continues. This can make navigating transitions, achieving new goals, or avoiding burnout challenging. The reality of life comes at us every day – unrelentingly.

There is one shift that has done the most good for me when I am stuck or overwhelmed by the nature, gravity, and too-muchness of life. It is this:

Rather than requiring some separate time and space to experience the change I am aiming for – I can recognize that life itself is the context of all change. Any moment is an opportunity to move toward a new goal.

Said another way, instead waiting for transformation, I can engage in my daily formation.

We are already on a path to become a particular kind of person. Our lives are organized toward a particular outcome. We are a willing conspirator in both the direction and organization, and they effectively determine whether or not we experience the transformation we are hoping for.

Formation is a daily – if not moment-by-moment – process. That means we can engage in it as often as we would like. No moment is more special than any other. We need not wait. Here are a few things that are good starts:

• Observing our own reactions to situations.

• Getting curious as to why certain patterns emerge regular.

• Gracefully acknowledging the distance between the person that you are and person you want to become.

These are all well within reach. Engaging in our daily formation is accessible to us. We can do things (albeit indirectly) that affect the direction and organization of our lives.

Keeping our focus on the things we can do that help the actual process of formation frees us from the tension, anxiousness, and helplessness that comes with being over-stretched and under-resourced.

Next thing you know, you might wake up one day and the thing that was hard has become easy, the thing that you had to work for now just shows up, and the transformation you were hoping for has become your reality.

But it doesn’t happen with asking the question.