Celebrating Culture and Humanity With A Hint of Summer Sparkle
Dancing Elephants Press Magazine Volume 1 Issue 2 June 8, 2024
Dear Reader,
Last weekend I found myself traveling up to Seattle via train with a friend for the first time since I moved to the United States over 30 years ago. I'm not sure why I had not tried the train before. I used to take the train all the time in Hungary. I was visiting friends and ended up at the Volunteer Park by Capitol Hill celebrating the humanity and Pride in each of us. Colors flew, people gave hugs and music was filling up the air. I loved the kindness of every person I encountered at the event. The thought of love no matter who you are, what gender, what religion, or what culture circled in my head. After all, we are human and the universal language we speak is Love.
In this edition, we wanted to celebrate our humanity and culture. You will find stories, inspiring dating ideas, communication by hand, and photography, all about health from Jamaica, and poems from cross cultures and regions of the world. You will find unique voices from amazing writers. The stories are captivating with life lessons coming from the heart of humanity and true experience. I hope you will enjoy these stories and images the way the authors enjoyed writing and capturing them.
Welcome to Dancing Elephants Press Magazine. We created this magazine to highlight amazing writers from all over the world and bring you positivity and creativity with a hint of magic in our weekly issues. We hope you will enjoy reading our stories, and poetry, as much as we enjoyed creating them.
Thank you for being here,
Dr. Gabriella Kőrösi
Cultural Traditions From Growing Up In Hungary
By Dr. Gabriella Kőrösi
Growing up in Hungary I learned our cultural traditions mostly from my mother and grandmother. Some traditions we also learned in school. Traditions either had to do with the country, some with religion, and some with being occupied by another country.
My favorite traditions had to do with celebrations and having time off from school. I loved Easter. We did a lot of cooking and people would come over from neighbors to family and friends to “water” the women or “spray with perfume” to bring good health and beauty. The boys and men would say a little poem or song to the girls and women in the household and in return they get a gift and food. I believe this is a very unique Hungarian tradition I am not aware of any other country doing anything like this. I enjoyed this event, grew up with it and it was fun having people come to the house. We would decorate eggs, color and paint them, and have chocolate eggs for the boys or we also would give them money for bringing good health and beauty our way. We would cater to the visitors by providing drinks and food that contained cold cuts like ham and eggs. We did not have ham often and this was a feast. We would usually have fresh bread and a French salad.
Another favorite holiday tradition had to do with Christmas. On Christmas Eve December 24th, we had a tradition to eat fish. Not just any fish. A fresh fish that was picked up alive in teh market the day of cooking or the day before and was swimming in our bathtub until it was time to become our Holiday meal. I loved going with my mom to buy the live fish, putting water in the bathtub, and watching as it was swimming around. I did not connect the dots until later that that is was what we ate for dinner. I don’t know if there is any other culture when you bring home a live fish for dinner.
May 1st was a celebration that came from communism and the Russian occupation of Hungary. Growing up I did not fully understand what all that meant. All I knew was that we walked outside, did not have to go to work, there was a parade and it was for the “workers”. It was a celebration and I loved celebrations. It was something to look forward to do. Looking back this feels very different now. Now I know that people had to show up on May 1st for the celebrations. They had no choice. It was a requirement and not a free will.
Festivals like Matyo days in Hungary I enjoyed a lot growing up. I was going with my mother who also did embroidery and we visited down to the country many times to get the thread and sometimes to get materials for the different types of embroidery. I enjoyed these traditional trips and activities. Hungarian embroidery is beautiful, I love all the colors and the stories behind them. Different regions in Hungary would have different patterns and flowers on blouses and different types of tablecloths and doilies. I learned embroidery when I was growing up and was not very good at staying in the lines with the thread. One needs a lot of patience for these beautiful handmade creations.
I hope you enjoyed a little inside tradition from Hungary.
Thank you for reading,
Gabriella
References
https://www.britannica.com/topic/May-Day-international-observance
https://magyarmuseum.org/hungarian-embroidery/hungarian-embroidery/
What Missionaries Taught Me about Cross-Culture Procrastination
And I learned to appreciate the value of immediacy
By Gideon For-mukwai
In December 1999, I visited Ghazni, which is pronounced “Hanzi,” a dusty outpost in the crucible of the Kalahari Desert. This is the homeland of the storied bushmen. You may have watched them in movies like, The Gods Must Be Crazy.
During my time there, I met over two dozen bushmen and scores of ostriches roaming around from dawn to dusk in a remote village called Qudu.
Unlike most other ethnic groups in Africa, bushmen are not interested in the modern amenities of life like hospitals, schools, elections, shoes, or fine dining. They couldn’t care less about your latest flashy Louis Vuitton handbags, flat-screen TVs, and TiVo. Who cares about Instagram?
It was thanks to my Aussie friend, Peter Hiscock that I went to Ghanzi for 14 days as a construction site custodian while his staff were gone for the Christmas holidays. We had to drive over 900 miles from the capital city, Gaborone. On the way, we made a stopover at Orapa, a fledgling diamond city, to refuel our truck and to say a prayer after eating two salami sandwiches.
After Orapa, we spotted a lone feline animal racing toward the road. As we slowed down, it also slowed down before stopping at the center of the road, barely five yards away from the car.
The beast with near-perfect dotted skin examined us with a rather perplexing look that said, “But why are you in my sanctuary? I don’t know and I don’t care.” After that brief awkward look, he sped off into the stunted trees of the desert to our left.
My friend Peter was ecstatic; I was ballistic, even though I did not know it was a leopard. Thank goodness we were in the car, or that beast would have had us for his dinner.
On the third day of my expedition, I met Rev. Fr. Steve, an Irish Roman Catholic priest. He’d lived in the Kalahari for over a decade as a missionary. In one of our multiple conversations, he asked me, “Gideon, how good is your Basarwa?” [Basarwa is the language of the bushmen, one of the languages famous for having a potpourri of clicking sounds.]
“I can speak a bit of Setswana, but not Basarwa yet.”
“You‘ve got your work cut out for you. It’s not an easy language.”
“Very soon, I’ll start learning,” I assured him.
“Don’t wait too long, or as long as the missionaries,” he cautioned.
I recall Fr. Steve later saying, “Young man, if you want to ride a horse, get in the saddle.”
He chastised himself and other missionaries for not engaging with the natives soon enough in their dialect, Basarwa.
Each time I reflect on that expedition, I realize that I have something in common with the missionaries. I often contemplate, procrastinate, and meditate instead of engaging and learning about new cultures.
When it comes to cultural integration, don’t let procrastination undermine your appreciation.
Magnolia Dreams
By Gabriela Trofin-Tatár
A Poem written in the MATE Gödöllői Botanical Garden, Hungary
Crumbling computed spacial sense
of vamped-up velveteen,
I open my eyes and breathe deeply,
Forgetting for a second my bearing.
Taking a photo of the magic around me is superfluous.
I filter the colors and accentuate the focus on lenses.
Seeing nothing unusual,
yet feeling the world alive,
How can I capture this magical world?
This garden full of magnolias is so fantastical, so bright.
I catch a glimpse of their beauty,
I gasp,
and shout a piercing cry,
Oh..
Nobody heard me,
I must have been crying loudly only in my mind.
I look again, try to reground myself here, and now,
Not paying attention to any digressing thoughts,
Waving away any tension,
I breathe out any ideas
suspended without intention.
I crave the presence of mind,
simplicity above all.
“Be mindful!” they say.
“Be here! Be now!”
Oh, behold these big flowers, breathing blessings!
Their faint scent is caressing my skin.
Large petals embracing each other,
Offering their pure, unique, untamed love,
Leaves untouched, hanging green,
swaying gently,
Memories are swirling, coming back to me,
screeching.
A long walk down memory lane… Do I go?
I fear the tears,
I feel ruptures and sadness,
I don’t want to return to those days.
The magnolias of my childhood were gray.
I remember them like it was yesterday.
I don’t remember them in color, though.
The flowers my mother showed me were white and black,
Her past was still fresh, her trauma had already been passed
on to me,
Raw, mysterious, unexplained, and symbolic.
I return from the past with crying eyes,
Phantoms glaring, trying to hold me back.
I resist, I get out and return in one piece,
Just in time for the yellow and warm caress of the sun.
My mind is overwhelmed with past dreams.
I am spread out in the grass, watching clouds,
An ant is crawling on my shoe.
My kids and husband are all colorful,
Huggingly, lovingly posing for shots,
Magnolias with their magical petals nodding, hovering,
Bright and light pink, white, yellow, purple, and dark.
I feel gratitude for the present, and I accept the past.
These magnolia dreams are recurring.
They keep telling me to start writing my story.
To heal, to connect my two worlds,
To color my past with love,
To breathe and to speak out for the people I love.
*Photo credit: Gabriela Trofin-Tatár, 2024, Hungary
Perfect Summer Date Ideas
Many of which can be quite affordable if not free
Romantic Summer Date Ideas Summer can be the most affordable and fun time to get creative with dating. No matter where you live, the climate allows you to be outdoors and enjoy nature’s playground in various ways.
Some Perfect Summer Dates to Consider:
1. Picnics in parks are great. Even better, look for free concerts where you can pack your picnic and enjoy entertainment!
2. Bike ride
3. Mini golf, or regular golf for those more avid golfers
4. Stroll through your local farmers market on a coffee date and enjoy breakfast. Consider picking up some items to prepare dinner together.
5. Baseball game
6. Berry picking
7. Stroll through the zoo.
8. Go camping. Consider glamping it up by taking extra pillows and LED lights to make the tent romantic.
9. Have a backyard bonfire (Everyone looks good in the firelight �)
10. Cool off with a water balloon fight and fill a kiddie pool to lounge in. It is more fun than you would think.
11. Outdoor concert
12. Go kayaking or on a float trip down a river.
13. Take a short road trip.
14. Spend an afternoon at a local pool.
15. Go hiking
16. Body paint — the perfect outdoor activity that inspires intimacy and playfulness
17. Make garden stones
18. Have a game night; this works indoors or out, depending on the weather.
19. Have a cookout
20. Visit places in your city that you might recommend to out-of-town guests but don’t usually go to.
Final Thoughts
Some things are free, and others cost money. It is best to assess your geographical location and what is available, then budget and balance your dates accordingly. Take turns planning and keep things fresh and fun. Remember, no matter how long you have been together, you can always continue to date.
Peace & Love,
Libby
Start Loving Yourself to Better Health
By Annelise Lords
I am from a culture where large butts and obesity are common and encouraged. I had what my culture deemed a Coca-Cola bottle shape. I had a 32-26-36 size. I got lots of attention when I was young, and still do, even though I am older 36-28-40 size. It wasn’t flattering. I found it scary. I was often made to feel like an object.
The female body is an asset in my culture, and for some females, it is their only asset. Looking good is more important than anything else for many females in my culture.
Not for me.
My brain is my asset because the brain will outlast the body.
Many bodies look bad, but their brains are in tip-top shape and turn out to be in better shape than their bodies.
Being overweight in your lower body seems to always be in style.
Men loved it. It's dangerously unhealthy for females because large thighs attract serious circulation problems. I know women in Jamaica who can't walk because of the pain in their lower body, thanks to their extra large thighs.
In the Bronx more than twenty years ago, while I was visiting someone and talking outside of their apartment, a very obese lady tumbled out of the nearby apartment. Her body was swaying as she took slow, short strides. She was barely walking. A very thin guy carried a black bag behind her.
She reached a black Honda Accord a few feet away from where I was standing. He opened the front door for her. She bent to go in and slid on the sidewalk. He couldn’t pick her up. She sat on the sidewalk in distress, struggling to breathe.
So he called the paramedics.
Two white guys came. They couldn’t lift her. They had to call for help. Two black males came. It took four males to lift her and put her on the stretcher and into an ambulance.
It turns out she had an asthma attack, and her husband was taking her to the emergency room.
What had just transpired terrified me. What if that was me? I thought as the memory of her struggling to breathe circled in my heart and head. Right there, I decided to change my life and diet and started exercising more.
If I was ill or needed to go to the ER, my husband was supposed to be able to lift me to put me in a car or any transportation that would get me to the hospital in time to save my life.
If her situation were more life-threatening, with the time it took to move her or get her help, she would die right there on the sidewalk.
We are supposed to love ourselves enough to know that being healthy is the best way to live and be happy. With self-love, we can take better care of ourselves and our families. Being healthy makes life so much better for us, in more good ways than bad.
Our mental health is at risk when we are unhealthy. So being healthy improves our mental health. All of our organs are connected, so if one is in pain, it will affect others, creating a chain reaction that will impact our lives in ways we might not like.
To laugh, we need to be healthy because being ill, we don’t think we have sufficient reason to laugh.
Being healthy gives us more reasons to smile.
Being healthy gives us reasons to enjoy life, families, friendships, and self. We do so much more when we know we are healthy. Fears are gone too. We are stronger and eager to learn. We want to do more, give more, say more, help more, and be happy. With good health, we can contribute something positive to our environment and to the lives of plants, animals, and humans.
How we love ourselves can also determine our health. Who loves us and how they love us helps or hinders us health-wise.
Self-love is the first step to a healthier me.
Women must stop allowing men, culture, attention, and compliments to influence how they look and their health.
Unhealthy people have a short life packed with pain and unhappiness.
It's the opposite for healthier people. Start loving yourself for better health.
The Blue People will Arrive in the Summer
Why do we think we are the only ones here?
It was a normal day
Sun shining, light breeze, sound of cars whizzing by
children laughing, birds singing, an occasional siren
Then one appears, two three many more appear: blue ones blue people
standing floating in between the cars, the people, in the trees everywhere.
a gasp and then silence except for the children still laughing and birds singing
cars stop no one knows what to do. They are just blue
Frozen we stare hearts rapidly beating cells phone cameras clicking away
What to say? They stare back. They seem frozen too.
In the playground, children take their hands and invite them to play.
They play
“Annie, online news says they are everywhere.”
That’s a poem written by me expressing my concern that one day everything will change when visitors from outer space arrive. I worry that the conflicts on earth will have us judged harshly. I worry that our arrogance will make us vulnerable.
I know this is a constant theme in science fiction, but thinking carefully about our place in the universe and how we might be perceived is a useful exercise. This is no different than preparing for virus mutations.
They will come in the summer when the sidewalks sizzle when people walk with bare shoulders and midriffs when playgrounds are filled with kids dancing in man-made fountains and shallow pools.
They will come in the summer when road rage can be heard more frequently through open car windows. The cacophony of music playing in the streets, kids shouting in playgrounds, and people out of their houses everywhere will be a perfect time to take a look at us humans.
The heat of summer can make tempers fly. This gives me the most concern. War, famine, human suffering, and our abuse of Mother Earth may mean that we will be judged harshly.
Summer makes it harder to hide the problems that are laid bare by the outdoor procession of people.
I hope we are thinking about how we will interact, and how will we communicate the arrival or discovery of life beyond Earth.
Hopefully, someone in our government is thinking about this.
I have interviewed many gifted scientists and thinkers including Carl Sagan, Michio Kaku, and Robert Goddard just to name a few. I asked them whether or not they thought there might be life out there on other planets.
The answers were consistent in that we were wrong to think that we were the only intelligent life in the universe.
From physicist Michio Kaku
“I often think that we are like the carp swimming contentedly in that pond. We live out our lives in our own "pond," confident that our universe consists of only the familiar and the visible. We smugly refuse to admit that parallel universes or dimensions can exist next to ours, just beyond our grasp.”
Summer means keeping my eyes and heart open and alert. I know all that has occurred in our efforts to get along with each other and to make the planet a better place for all might just be practice for the arrival of the Blue people.
Let’s Have A Show of Hands
Back in the States in the 1980’s, there was a very talented children’s performing ensemble called “A Show of Hands”. This ensemble spread the concept of sign language to hearing audiences across the States by incorporating precision signing with superb singing and dancing. I was their photographer. And the lessons I picked up by documenting their exploits using what would today would be “rudimentary equipment” were pretty significant.
The troop performed for audiences all around Southern California, impressing viewers wherever they went. They performed at Dodger stadium, the Hollywood Bowl, and were in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade twice. They even did a 2-week tour of Switzerland which blew the country away. But I’ll tell you all about that in a minute. My role was to provide publicity photos and to document their numerous achievements for posterity, but I also ended up creating brochures and directing my very first promotional video for them.
How did I get this awesome job? Easy — the group’s director and musician was also the guy who taught me how to play jazz piano during my more formative years. (It’s always who you know.) It was more of a hobby than a job, as I was in college at the time pursuing an engineering degree, and volunteered my services just because I enjoyed it.
My equipment was pretty basic — I shot with manual focus cameras like the Minolta XE-7 and X-G7, both aperture-priority cameras. For indoor shoots I’d use a fast prime like a 50mm f/1.4. If I used a zoom lens it was important that it be the parafocal type that doesn’t change its focus point as it zooms, so that I could zoom in, focus critically, zoom out (recompose), and then be ready for the decisive moment. This was essential because I was shooting kids who are unpredictable and I didn’t believe in posing anyone (except for formal shots, of course). It was also important that it be a twist-to-zoom rather than the push-pull zoom that was very popular with 70–210 lenses at the time, as I knew using push-pull zoom lenses all day can quickly fatigue the right hand supporting the camera and lens.
If a flash was required, I used a giant Sunpack potato-masher flash that had no TTL (only an on-board sensor) and once configured you could only shoot within a narrow, pre-established range of distances. Here’s how I worked the equipment each time I encountered a new shooting situation:
1. Put high-speed film in the camera; usually Tri-X ISO 400 or Kodacolor 400 negative film.
2. Set the f/stop to something wide to capture as much ambient light as possible.
3. Tell the flash what ISO I was using and what f/stop. Its circular-slide-rule dial would then tell me the distance range within which I could work. (It had its own on-flash sensor which could regulate the flash output to small degrees.)
4. Focus manually, anticipate the action, and shoot!
Shooting this way inspired one of many photography-related inventions that kept my hands from getting fatigued. I don’t have the Sunpak anymore to show you what I did, but I did make a similar modification on my Minolta 9000 and 4000 AF flash: I modified a cable release, and placed the 2-step shutter release button at the center of gravity between the flash and camera body, allowing one hand to both hold the entire assembly AND initiate autofocus and take the picture, while the other hand was free to zoom, allowing much faster and less fatiguing operation than what the camera’s designers had envisioned.
Stage shows were a particular challenge, as flash wasn’t allowed and I lacked a spot meter, the usual tool to handle the typically difficult theater lighting. I had learned to shoot with negatives which could be tweaked later if the exposure wasn’t exactly perfect, and 1/60th of a second wide open. 1/30th of a second was sometimes chosen so that I could show movement in their hands.
Another trick I used to help the images “pop” was to use a red filter in front of the lens when shooting with B&W film. Not only did this render their too-grey-to-be-interesting light blue shirts as black, but it also lightened the faces of the Caucasian members (of which most of them were). No photoshop required.
In its 5-year span from 1981 to 1985, A Show of Hands became media role models and made hundreds of performances, promoting sign language in a non-threatening way to hearing audiences everywhere. Two of the highlights of my time with them included participating in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City, where the kids worked alongside seasoned Broadway dancers while preparing to sing and sign for the Rainbow Brite float. The parade was televised nationally, and the group was spotlighted when they taught the world how to sing “Jingle Bells” in sign language.
Then there was Switzerland.
In the Spring of ’84 the group was invited by an agency of the Swiss government to come and perform for two weeks. All they had to do was raise money for airfare. Six months later, they were off. On the plane going there we were given the morning paper, and to my surprise one of my pictures was on the front page! Consider this foreshadowing for the group’s popularity in Switzerland. :-)
Switzerland was a unique experience. Among the hearing population, sign language was virtually unheard of at the time — to them, singing for the deaf was such a curious idea that people literally packed the performance houses to experience “The Hands That Sing”. The children’s voices, harmony, dancing, and precision sign language amazed and captivated the audiences, resulting in standing ovations and multiple encore demands at every performance — something that never happened back in the States. The Mayor of Geneva, after experiencing the show, called the group’s mission “Pioneering work” and soon after our departure signed into law a provision for sign language interpreters in all university classrooms that require them.
Had this incredible reception been all that happened during the trip, that would have been great. But early on the tour, we met with another performing ensemble also comprised of kids of about the same age. This theatre troop, whose French acronym is pronounced “AFAT” (Ateliers Formation Actions Theatre) put on a show that blew us away! They utilized dance, physical theatre, mime, and original music to tell a story that kid’s plays don’t usually deal with: loneliness, prejudice, acceptance, and peer pressure. We were so impressed with their show, and they were so impressed with ours that the two groups instantly became the best of friends and started teaching each other their crafts. Within two days the Swiss kids picked up finger spelling, and later the Americans had the pleasure of participating in their theatre exercises.
The two groups together toured all of Switzerland as a double bill, and packed the house at nearly all performances. Their popularity posed an unexpected problem: a new device was needed to satisfy the inevitable standing ovations and encore demands at the show’s end. The solution came spontaneously one evening when, after the finale, the American kids pulled their Swiss counterparts onstage and had them try to sign along with the last number, “It’s a Small World”. They couldn’t keep up, but that didn’t matter!
During the time they had together, despite the language barrier, you never saw so many kids get along so well.
When it finally came time to say goodbye, the kids made plaques for their host families, and the Americans gave the Swiss kids their rainbow suspenders as a memento. The experience was so intense that the Americans were compelled to arrange a reciprocal tour the next year, inviting AFAT to the states and performing as a double bill throughout California.
Lessons Learned
Shooting kids for five years with manual equipment teaches you to think on your feet and to work with what you have. Some of the articulatable things I learned were:
1. A genuine smile only happens once with kids. You can’t stage a pickup shot and have it genuine.
2. Always be alert for what’s going to happen next, and be ready for it. (This applies equally to shooting weddings, too.) That means pre-focusing and making sure your flash is configured properly.
3. If your light is bad, you can always print in B&W and adjust contrast using various filters.
The group disbanded in 1985, but I still keep in touch with many of the kids to this day. (My piano teacher too, who has since relocated to Massachusetts, just an hour away from where I live!)
Looking back, I regret having squandered the opportunity to learn some sign language (I was more concerned about the light and being able to convey the group’s essence in a single establishing shot). I also continue to be impressed at how much better digital photography has become compared to 35mm film, which could only hold up to scrutiny in only the best of conditions. The other thing I regret is that the vast majority of the photos shown here are scanned prints rather than scanned negatives or slides. I have all of the originals; it would have taken me weeks to dig them out and there are only so many hours in a day.
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You can see the promotional video I directed, plus two examples of the ensemble’s performances in the video below:
Also, for those interested, here’s the performance they did for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as Rainbow Brite’s Special Friends:
Until next time,
Part of this story originally was published on Medium.
Peaceful Moments of Nature's Bliss
By LC Lynch
(Photo by author)
Passing glances
while lost in thought
there is no time
just to stop
Focused on all
deadlines looming
know that you must
keep moving
Missing out on
what is right here
when your mind is
never clear
Slowing down will
improve your mind
giving you the
time to find
Peaceful moments
of nature’s bliss
little details
that you miss
Life is sweeter
when your heart’s light
beauty takes you
to new heights
© LC Lynch 2024
Taking time to slow down and enjoy nature allows you to truly savor life. It’s easy to get caught up in your daily routine and miss the beauty that is all around you. Stay mindful and notice the little details in your environment. You never know what gems you are missing that you pass by every day.
We hope that our magazine brought interesting stories into your life,
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Have questions or need clarifications? Do not hesitate to get in touch with us via email at: dancingelephantspress@gmail.com or via a private note, or a comment on this post.
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For Our Readers and Writers: Thank you for joining us at Dancing Elephants Press and helping spread positivity to the world.
Editors for this magazine edition were Dr. Gabriella Kőrösi and Maryan Pelland.
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I agree, diversity ROCKS!
I changed it. Check it out.