It’s All in the Tape. Part 7

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It’s All in the Tape. Part 7

continued from Part 6

The first festival I ever sold at was Last Thursday, a well known street fair in Portland, Oregon, held on the last Thursday of every month.  During the months of May through September the street is closed down and artist and vendors, old and young alike, bring their merchandise to the streets, set up shop, and hope to make some dollars. There is everything from jewelry, paintings, metal work, clothing and of course, even a couple other hoop vendors.

I set up shop in the middle and before long I got word on the street that there were other hoop vendors.  But even with the competition I may have had, I cleared my inventory.  I couldn’t believe it.  Sales started around four o’clock before the roads were closed. Just as I tightened the Christmas tree stand and hung the last hoop on the pole, a car drove up and asked how much for two hoops.  The thirty old woman and her niece got out, picked their favorite hoops, paid me $40 and drove away.

The first one to sell was one I thought was the ugliest.  This hoop fell short compared to the rest, or so I thought.  I suppose it to goes show that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in the end every hoop I made was beautiful in it’s own right.

Every Hoop has a Beginning, Doesn’t it? Part 4

Hoop part 4

This is one of my favorite pictures.

Every Hoop has a Beginning, Doesn’t it? Part 4
continued from part 3

Once, I had stepped through the hooping doorway, even my language began to change.  It took no time to realize I did not want to say, ‘hula hoop.’ I may have bought a ‘hula hoop’ at the toy store, and I may have been ‘hula hooping,’ but my position quickly changed when I understood that I wanted to hoop.

Suddenly, even saying ‘hula hoop’ created a vision of a thin piece of plastic to me, flimsy and weak.  I wanted the strong and beautiful hoop I saw in these videos.  “Hoop.” Even saying it out loud I felt strength rise up inside of me.  I needed to hoop.  I needed a hoop.

My glittery pink toy store hoop was ill-fitted for my adult body. Like skis fit certain body types and certain styles of skiing, hoops fit each of us differently.  The rule is – the bigger they are the easier they are.  There is no wrong size hoop. If it can be hooped with it’s a perfect hoop.  But I was a woman. I was certainly bigger than a child. I needed a woman’s hoop, not one meant for someone half my size.

I combed the websites of the hundreds of different hoop companies.  There is every color, every design, every type of hoop out there.  Hundreds of circles to choose from. Handmade and crafted beautiful pieces of art.  I wouldn’t pay money for just any old hoop, but I did not have any deep desire to have any particular sparkle or color.  I wanted, nearly needed a hoop. When I finally decided on a company to order from, I had the option to pick red, blue, green, pink or yellow.  I chose red. Or maybe it choose me since red is the color of strength, power and energy.  I paid $30, waited four days, and went to pick up the hoop I ordered from a local hoop maker.

Part 5

Audience of One, Please.

 

Audience of One, Please.

I went back to Hooper Park today and this time I had a bit of an audience. I’m actually not so sure I had any kind of audience, but sometimes, because I love attention, it makes me feel good to think that I do have an audience even if I don’t. (Some folks were out eating lunch so maybe I did.)

Anyway, I am not looking at them intentionally, trying to pretend that I don’t think that they are watching me. “And I think, oh yay, I can entertain them while they eat.” Anyway, I started warming up, and two minutes or so into my workout, in the midst of doing a whirl or a twirl or something, (actually, I think it was barrel roll grapevine looking things) I step on my own two feet and I bit it. Tumbled right to the ground, leaves all over me. Dead grass in my hair. Skinned up my knee. I get up. Not a single person has noticed me.

And man, that just made me laugh. Ultimately, I hoop for me.

What do you hoop for?

Where Am I Going and Do I Need my Hoop? Part 2

Where am  I going and do I need my hula hoop? I don’t know, and yes.

I had a few friends make it through the separation (separation between me and the hooping business that is).

From top to bottom. JaMochaMocha, PrettyMocha, LooLoo twins, and the weighted water hoop, H2O.

These five hula hoops can tell you some stories about me. All the nights, mornings, afternoons I spent with them. And the festivals. The many festivals. Oh, they could tell you about all the things I had planned for my them.  I used to lay awake at night and imagine all the things I could do with these hula hoops. I have notes upon notes, diagrams after diagrams, words, thoughts, prayers, visions. I wanted (and I’ll be honest, a little bit inside of me still kind of wants) the hooping empire.

But everything all the sudden seemed so hard. I was confused. I no longer had a goal or destination. I was a conductor of freight train, had no idea how to run the train, and just had no idea where I was going, and I was dead broke.

Plus and this is a big one – my one stress reliever had become my job.

Anyway, the moral of this blog is, relationships are hard. Even sometimes hooping relationships.

How is your hoop relationship? Is it mad at you?