They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
we pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses;
out of a misty dream
our path emerges for a while, then closes
within a dream.
Edward Dowson

It was a dark and stormy afternoon with hailstones and tornado warnings. Driving meant flirting with death. She called John Belizikjian; yes, he was going. She called Bob Alden; yes, the event was still on. As the afternoon moved on, troupe members and all her students excused themselves.

Weather furies passed, but anxiety lingered. She dressed, packed her costume, and drove to Greek Village in Carlsbad for the Fourth Annual Memorial/Birthday Service for Cindy Rene Fena. “Aleia” (1/18/1953—3/3/2006), popular dancer, teacher and traveler, went ‘behind the veil’ in an unexpected diabetes incident. Adept in several languages, she devoted her life to dance, higher education, and helping others learn about diabetes through Taking Care of Your Diabetes (TCOYD), recipient of tonight’s proceeds.

“Injustice can be eliminated, but human conflicts and
natural limitations cannot be removed. The conflicts of social life
and the limitations of nature cannot be controlled or transcended.
They can, however, be endured and survived.
It is possible for there to be a dance with life,
a creative response to its intrinsic limits and challenges . . .”
Sharon Welch, A Feminist Ethic of Risk

After the surprisingly weather/rush hour-free drive, she arrived, the spent a moment chatting with John about Armenian classical composers—would he ever make a CD of oud music playing those kinds of pieces? Every moment with John is so precious now, as he faces death every day in his personal health challenges. Bob Alden, Navy engineer and organizer, set up icons of Aleia’s life—photos, her veil and cymbals, candles. Several members of TCOYD joined his table. There was a flurry of excitement when Frank Lazzaro, skilled drummer from San Diego arrived to accompany John.

Toni Perrine long-time showbiz and belly dance celebrity (see her recent interview at www.gildedserpent.com) and her friend joined the table. Both women had found that Cairo’s smog and cigarette smoke were real health hazards on a recent trip, but the Egyptian people exhibited no fear of dying.

“Row Row Row your boat
gently down the stream;
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
life is but a dream!”

After some introductory music, our show began with fresh, lovely, and poised Wendy Tylka, in a black costume. Later, she shared with our table some of the important lessons she had learned from Aleia on how to handle performance mishaps, of which she had none.

Jheri St. James was next. During the taxim with her copper sword, John kindly played music in the style of the Eastern European composers she asked him about, putting her in a dream state.

Sohaila expertly performed lovely Egyptian classical stylings in a gorgeous copper satin costume with her bright, living smile.

“And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.”
Friedrich Nietzsche

TCOYD announced that the evening had raised nearly $300 for the association. Even during the loud applause, it was obvious that Bob Alden was grieving the loss of his Aleia.

The Dancer (For Aleia)

She glided in as if on wings
Her veils a flowing sight,
The music pulsed, her arms bespoke
Of passions in the night.

Cymbals played atop her hands
Clinked as bells and chimes.
The room was hushed as if a trance
Had sent us back in times.

Her lithesome moves conveyed to us
Stories from ago
To tell us of another place
Another life or so.

Her whirls and twirls and sways evoked
Such wonder and desire.
Her dance was not just art alone
But life itself afire.

Her eyes conveyed a mystery
Passed down throughout the ages.
The look of woman’s gentleness
That soothes man’s inner rages.

My life is full of memories
But yet I know I’ll find
The image of the dancer
Forever in my mind.

On the rainless drive home, she pondered the mysteries of life, death and belly dancing. Any one in that room could die tonight—young or old, sick or well. The truth is that each of us lives only in this moment of now. Belly dancing tonight had created a dream fusion of life and death.

Life is like an onion—you peel off the layers and sometimes you weep.
Carl Sandburg