this happens to me a lot at public events.  it’s funny because i doubt jugglers have tons of peeps come up to borrow their balls.  (i know, just let it go)  there definitely is something super-accessible about hooping; i usually consider this a good thing.  at the same time, have you noticed that adults aren’t always respectful when it comes to things that are seemingly accessible?  maybe it’s because the hoop is associated in most people’s minds with a child’s toy, which must mean that they get to play with it.  whatever the reason, the m.o. is usually some early 20-something woman who is slightly to not-so-slightly intoxicated interrupting me to ask to borrow my hoop.

there are times when i’m totally open to sharing.  actually, i’d say that’s my default.  i must have lent my hoop out literally hundreds of times.  but when the request came on this particular day, i was just starting to relax in the way that only hooping facilitates.  so, no, i didn’t really want to share at that moment.  in the past i’ve often just acquiesced to an inopportune request.  but this time i checked in with myself and said to the woman with honesty, “sure, you can hoop in a bit.”  did i get a thank you?  nope.  her response as she walked away was a snarky, “oh, because you’re doing your thing?”

not five minutes later, while still a bit miffed at the comment, someone else came up and asked the same thing.  i replied again, that yes, once i’m done you are welcome to hoop.  this person did actually take me on my word, returning about fifteen minutes later.  and, yes, having enjoyed doing my thing for a spell, i shared as promised.

there is usually a whole different level of reticence when you’re spinning a pricey hoop, like an led, and get the request.  generally willing to share hoops?  sure. willing to hand a space cadet i don’t know my $300 led?  not so much.

anyway, later in the day my peeps gathered by live music elsewhere in the park.  the spot was near one of our apartments, which meant access to the inevitable gaggle of hoops.  a quick foray and we were stocked.  this time, when peeps asked to play, it was easy to direct them to the extras.  that was a great solution.  everybody happy.

but, obviously, there are times when there just aren’t extra hoops available.  most of the time, i don’t carry extras.  it’s hard enough lugging one hoop on public transpo as is, let alone all the accoutrements. (yes, there are accoutrements.)

i know i’m not the only hooper who has gotten irritated at being asked repeatedly to lend out their hoop.  in fact, i know several hoopers who flat out refuse any request at any time.  that seems a little extreme to me, but i do understand.  looking back at how things played out at bay to breakers, i’m happy with the way i handled the initial requests.  i think it is my new default: i will simply take a moment to check in with myself when asked.  if i feel like sharing, i’ll gladly share.  but if i really just want to sink into my flow, then i’ll validate my own needs by saying they can use it later or not at all.  i suppose i could come up with some clever comeback like, yes you can borrow my hoop if i can borrow your pants, but bottom line, it is my hoop.  if the person requesting is upset at having to wait or getting a flat out denial, that really is their problem.  my hoop is not a frisbee left on the playground.  it is my dance partner in a very real sense, even if no one else understands that.

i suppose i could just encourage the next person to bring their own hoop next time.  undoubtedly, they’ll get asked to share, too.  maybe then, they will understand.

this comment still bothers me.  i’m sure on some level i was initially irked because i was part of the show- i wasn’t too keen on the idea of whispered comparisons, particularly in a non-competitive event- but mostly it made me mad that this incredibly talented person was suffering in part because she felt that others were evaluating her performance negatively.  that perception was obviously hurting someone who didn’t need any more criticism than her own.  maybe i misunderstood what she meant or maybe she was just having a bad day.  but it illustrates one of the downsides of being immersed in competition with others.  with the growing emphasis on competitive events in the hooping world, i’m concerned that there is the potential to undermine what i consider to be the best aspects of the spinning arts.

i guess it’s not that surprising that hooping is moving in this direction.  from a young age we are taught that there is this inherent disparity between the best and the rest, that the awards and the money and the fame only belong to those at the top of the heap.  we are saturated with images and stories extolling the virtues of competition.  how many movies, tv shows, or books can you think of where the hero or heroine initially flounders in a competition, then works hard through some kind of self-awakening to ultimately win?  i bet you can think of at least thirty without even trying.  invariably the end result of this epic struggle is our hero or heroine bathing in the accolades in the final tearful moments, while the competitor, who often seems to be evil for some reason, dies or is humiliated or, in the rare form, learns a life lesson.  yes, this does happen in real life, but for the most part, these stories are just made up.

while i appreciate that competition can be a catalyst for creativity or improvement, one of the things i really liked about hooping from the get go was that it didn’t feel competitive.  my first real in-person exposure to the greater hooping community was through bay area hoopers.  it was a haven of sorts, a place where i could learn, meet like-minded peeps, and practice free from judgment.  similarly, when i co-founded HooppaiN we emphasized that it had nothing to do with competition.  mutual inspiration?  yes!  but we weren’t caught up with who was better than whom.  instead, we all genuinely celebrated when anyone did something cool or innovative, enjoying each other’s company and shared love of spinning.  i personally benefited enormously from participating in both of these groups.  i know that similar groups now exist all around the world.

with the wave of hoop popularity continuing to grow, i’m sure we will see yesterday’s hoopies, and today’s hooping idol, morph into tomorrow’s international hooping competitions.  while i think the spirit behind the current competitions is to inspire and share, i would argue that there are better ways of doing it.  the reality is that anytime you hold a competition there is the risk of someone getting hurt or discouraged.  while one could argue that in entering a competition you open yourself up to that kind criticism, i don’t think that it makes the methodology any better.

the first problem i see is that any competition is going to have to reconcile some set of arbitrary criteria against the growing breadth of hooping: these days you’ve got single hoopers and double hoopers, those who emphasize the dance element and those who emphasize the technical element, off-the-body specialists and on-body rockers, those with a dance background and those without, etc.  that’s quite a range of skill, expression, and style.

i also think it is important to recognize that any particular performance may not be a good representation of a spinner’s skill set or flow.  even consistently amazing performers know that you have both good and bad spins. sometimes you are completely on: the magic is there, you are in that rarefied state of flow, participating in an amazing dialogue with the crowd in which even your errors can come across as great.  at other times, despite all of the preparation and intention, you can just be off: you get lost in your routine, or your costume malfunctions, or the wrong music gets cued up, or your hoop feels like it has gained ten pounds, or your body starts to channel a spastic monkey.  sometimes you just spin out of control.  that’s just the nature of the beast.

next you have the meta-factors.  when we are talking about people judging people, we have to at least acknowledge that popularity and personal attractiveness may play a role, even if that’s not anyone’s intention.  also, if the competition is based on a video submission, won’t the better quality videos inevitably get higher points?

i’m sure you see where i am going with this.  how can anybody fairly judge an expanding artform?  it’s all well and good to say that “everyone is a winner” who participates, but inevitably someone is not going to feel like a winner when they don’t make the cut.  granted, i’m emphasizing the doom and gloom, but the potential for hurt feelings and misunderstandings is real.

it takes a lot to share your art and soul with others.  there is an emotional risk to it, a vulnerability.  i think that vulnerability is a big part of what we connect with as an audience.  i’m worried about exposing that vulnerability to harm.  it seems out of synch with the universal hooping spirit, that graciousness within us that applauds without negative judgment a delighted newbie just jamming at the waist.  i think intermediate and seasoned hoopers need that graciousness, too.

as such, i would rather see the emphasis in the hooping world go to valuing the range of expression that we, as a community, can create.  i love spinning precisely because ten spinners can do the exact same set of moves and look different, because each person is inherently different and valuable because of that difference.  yes, we are all unique and special snowflakes!

i will never be any of the other amazing hoopers that grace our community.  that’s a good thing.  i’d rather be the best, most kickass kahunahula that i can be, bringing the core of my experience, spirit and passion to each of my spins the way only i can challenge myself to do.  granted i sound like an after-school special, but in my mind the real competition is with myself, not with anyone else.  am i getting past my own fears and tapping directly into my flow?  did i turn that drop into a great recovery?  more importantly, am i touching the hearts of those watching me instead of just being lost in my own hoopsterbation?  (you can quote me)  if i am winning over my own limitations, then, yes, i am winning.

you know what else?  with this kind of focus on enabling and challenging the creative self, it’s easy to really value what others bring to the table.  that may be obvious, but i think it is worth expressing.  another person’s success is not threatening to yours because there is no competition between the two of you; you can both win in your own personal events.  my perception is that the vast majority of hoopers connect inherently with this idea.

granted, there will undoubtedly always be people who get lost in judging others, but as a special community of artists i think we can embrace and encourage a different model.  hooping is not a job interview, beauty pageant, or any of the other situations in life where only one person can be the best.  before we get too lost in these things, i say we should steer away from the hierarchical constructs that pit hooper against hooper.  isn’t it truer to our nature to share things in a way that emulates the circular shape of the hoop?  with this sense of equanimity, let’s agree to protect one other from feeling like the performance we just did is being criticized behind our back.  we can foster mutual inspiration and creativity instead, building showcases instead of competitions.  there definitely can be value in a large forum for the sharing of high levels of skill and innovation.  it just doesn’t need to be about singling out one or two people.  there is enough room for every hooper to be treasured and honored for what they bring to our art and our community.

that being said, there is one safety topic that i haven’t seen discussed anywhere, probably because most hoopers are simply not aware of the dangers involved.  at the risk of opening a big ‘ole can of worms, which seems sometimes to be my purpose in life, i’d like to express some concerns about using pvc as hoop tubing, particularly for firehoops.

before i dive in, let me say that my purpose in bringing this up is to build awareness, to protect all of you, and to encourage innovation, not to mess with those wonderful peeps who make and sell hoops.  also, i am not a chemist or biologist.  what i want to share is based on info from other sources.  if i’ve gotten something wrong, please let me know.  i want accurate info available to everyone.  lastly, i realize that the fuel we use is toxic as hell, but it is obviously toxic- you know when you see a gallon of white gas that you probably shouldn’t be inhaling it or bathing in it.  a piece of hoop tubing simply does not look like something inherently dangerous.

alright.  grabbing my can opener….

one of the things that i really liked about hooping from the get go was that making a hoop is so easy.  all you need to do is go to your local hardware store and grab some irrigation tubing, a connector, and tape.  heat up the ends with a hairdryer, slam the connector in, tape to your hearts content, and, bingo, hoop!  simple.  accessible.  given the flexibility, weight, cheapness and availability of pvc, it seems pretty ideal for our collective hoop needs.

unfortunately, pvc, or polyvinyl chloride (aka vinyl), is one of the most toxic compounds on the planet.  it is made with stuff toxic to us (like chlorine), gives off stuff toxic to us (like mercury and lead), and either poisons our land and water as it stays alive forever offgassing in landfills or creates poisons when it is incinerated (like hydrocholric acid).  i am not exaggerating when i say that we are putting our bodies and our environment at risk by using this plastic.  given the mounting evidence linking severe health issues with pvc production and use, countries around the world are severely restricting or banning it altogether.

and, yes, pvc is everywhere, in computers, food containers, toys, clothes, etc.  we are all exposed to it with alarming regularity, unaware that this stuff is offgassing all around us.  to give an example, a study referenced in the story of stuff found that 108 volatile chemicals were released from a pvc shower curtain over the course of 28 days.  108!  from a shower curtain!  brings a whole new meaning to the term “bath”.  and, if your shower curtain is that dangerous, what about that gaggle of hoops hanging out next to your closet?  i know they don’t look too dangerous covered in sparkly, multi-colored tape and all, but unfortunately, pvc offgases.  so, hoops offgas, too.

that’s probably enough to make anyone take pause, but the main problem i want to address here is that when pvc is burned it releases dioxins.  ever hear of agent orange, the defoliant used in the vietnam war?  yep, that’s a dioxin, the use of which resulted in the killing or maiming of 400,000 people and 500,000 birth defects.  dioxins are the nastiest of the nasties.  these poisons build up primarily in fatty tissues over time, and have been linked to all kinds of serious health problems, including cancer and the disruption of hormonal systems.

now think about those flames licking your firehoop while you take a deep breath…. pretty scary.

so, what do we do?  i’m not about to give up firehooping, but i’m also not anxious for any of us to get cancer, or for any of us to poison our unborn children.  so, here are some of my thoughts on minimizing the risks:

1.  don’t store your hoops in close proximity to a heat source.  really, you shouldn’t be doing this anyway with a firehoop given the possibility of fuel residue igniting, but this goes for all hoops.  when i first became aware of the evil that is pvc, i realized to my horror that i was storing my hoops directly across from my heater.

2. pay particular attention to the well-being of your firehoop.  is the spine size or a damaged wick making the flame come into constant contact with the body of the hoop when you spin?  are you giving yourself a dose of dioxin every time you light up?  it’s time to fix that wick or consider a different spine size.

3. wear gloves when firehooping.  this is going to cramp some people’s style, but do you really want your skin in direct contact with this crap?

4. don’t use the hairdryer method for hoop building.  i’ve found the hot water method faster and easier, anyway.

5. help us all figure out another material to use as the basis for our hoops.  this is a very creative community- i’m sure we can collectively think of something else that has similar properties without wrecking the environment and our bodies.  is there a rubber that can be used?  or bamboo?  or some kind of super-intelligent textile/metal combo?  there must be something else that will work.  people began hooping long before pvc was concocted.

the more we all become aware of how bad these compounds are, the more we can protect ourselves and our loved ones from the toxic soup that is increasingly all around us.  here is a source of info on pvc.  i recommend the books, the story of stuff (leonard/conrad) and dodging the toxic bullet (boyd), as starting points.  please don’t just trust me on this.  do your own research.

again, i know lots of wonderful, health conscious, natural-fiber wearing peeps who are able to make some cash from making and selling great hoops.  i’m not interested in destroying their livelihood, but we need to facilitate change.  now.  the sooner we get pvc out of our art, the better.

discuss;-)

my solo routine has come a long way from the initial flawed performance at union square in december.  i walked away from that gig discouraged.  i’d blitzed hard in the preceeding weeks to complete my exciting new routine in time.  but the actual performance felt like a bit of a mess.  i ended up going off sequence early on, dropped my hoop, split my lip wide open with some freak mutant move i hope i never repeat, and had my wicks go out severely prematurely, before i’d gotten anywhere near the really good stuff.

when i finally got a chance to check out the video, i was relieved to see that the performance was far better than i’d remembered. not a complete disaster, after all.  considering the short time frame, i’d put together a good core, even if i was too lost in the technicalities while spinning.  even my recovery from the drop was decent enough that i was asked by a few folks if i’d done it on purpose.  i was once advised to learn a few solid recovery moves. really grateful for that advice.  sometimes you just drop it.

as i’ve mentioned elsewhere, post-spin self debrief is always a little harsh.  i often have to take a breath and recognize not only what went wrong, but what went right.  still learning how to do this well.  after all, no matter how far i end up going with hooping, it will always be about the process.  the journey is the thing; the performances are just snapshots.

since the awkward debut, i’ve spent the necessary time really practicing the difficult transitions, been through the entire routine a substantial number of times with only minor snafus, and have newer wicks available.  except for a sequence or two, i feel pretty rock solid across the board.  really focusing now on the overall flow, pacing my energy exertion throughout the duration, fine tuning angles/body position/timing, opening up the general showmanship, and relaxing into my flow.  looking forward to finding a good opportunity to perform the current evolution of the piece in the near future.

photo by norm mcallister, 2010.

in addition to the solo, i’ve got three routines in the works with my super-talented fire peeps.  i’m rocking a kickass duet with glittergirl (hoop/poi), upgrading the irish footwork in the showpiece routine with firish, and beginning to craft my duet with jaden towards our application to conclave with solar flare (hoop/hoop; possibly, double staff/hoop). really pleased to have the opportunity to work with such great people.  (when i first typed that sentence it came out, “pleased to have the opportunity to work such great people”.  i’m sure that will be true, both ways.)

i’ve said it before and i will say it again.  while there is certainly nothing like building a solid solo piece, i think it is really important to experience working in combination with other spinners.  i’ve found it crucial to making mammoth gains in skill, technique and expression.  it forces me to do things i would not normally do, to create unique sequences/interplay, to strengthen marginal skills.  i also highly recommend trying a piece wherein you are interacting with a different spinning tool than your own.  it’s one thing to play with another hoop; you can share the inherent fluidity of similar, familiar movement.  but a completely different tool means you have to learn how to play with the unique qualities of that tool in the hands of the person you are working with- it’s rhythms, range, flexibility, etc.  you cannot help but improve your own control, flexibility, and overall strength from this kind of work.

in my hoop/poi duet, for instance, we’ve had the opportunity to build a fresh vocabulary of hoop/poi interactions.  we are doing a number of things i’ve never seen done anywhere.  it’s incredibly fun to blaze new ground.  i’m already stronger for it and anticipate some of my best choreographed performances to date.

with firish, the emphasis has been on improving our irish dancing skills so that we can integrate more footwork into our piece.  we’ve already benefited from some great coaching and a lot of hopping around in unison.  by the time the gigs are upon us, lovers of light 2.0 will be fantastic. and i will have thighs of steel.

as for the final piece, i’m excited to work with my solar flarista sister, jaden.  she’s talented with many tools, including spinning a graceful double firehoop.  i don’t have a clue what we’ll come up with, but i know it will be amazing.

so, until mid-april when the big shows happen, i expect to be practicing the group routines a good 10-15 hours a week, at a minimum.  add to that my solo work and that’s a lot consistent wear and tear on our hero.  the lesson i seem to be learning now is how best to take care of my body when i am practicing at this intensity and frequency.  i’m usually conscious of water and rest needs when i practice or perform, but haven’t always been super diligent about stretching, massage, or simply making sure to promptly replenish electrolytes.  my body is being very good about reminding me that those things are crucial to being able to bring it to every practice.

as to the beached whale reference, last year after the fire spinning season ended i took a good-sized break from hooping, undoubtedly needed because i hadn’t been listening to my body’s needs that well.  i ended up doing a lot more eating than exercising (damn holidays) and put on some winter weight like a good mammal.  but, having recovered from type II diabetes a few years back, i need to keep my weight in a very healthy range.  i’m not generally too successful when it comes to new year’s resolutions.  it feels really good to have continued my progress toward maintaining fighting trim this time around the sun.  the only drawback from not packing on some extra poundage over this winter has been that i’ve been noticeably colder.  as a hooper i’m often outside, exposed to the elements, wearing a minimum of fancy, tight clothing.  never really understood to this extent what many of the women in my life endure routinely with being cold at night when out on the town.

anyway, after the big shows, i’m off to firedrums to celebrate, socialize, camp, and spin.  spinning for my collective fire tribe is a unique joy.  i always walk away from the weekend exhausted, smiling, and inspired, basking in the pungent aroma of smoke and burnt hair.  awesome.

until then, i’m going to work hard, give my performances my best, and earn that celebration.  paraphrasing the teacher in the old tv show, fame, “you gotta pay in sweat!”

photo by jeremy sharp, 2009.

about a month ago, i decided to start choreographing a solo firehooping routine.  the main impetus behind the idea was to develop and own a solid, go-to routine; something that i could always have ready to break out when needed; something including a full range of expression from my growing firehooping repertoire.

prior to this, i’d really only choreographed routines as part of duets, trios, etc.  when i’ve performed solos in the past, i’ve simply jammed.  i absolutely love the freedom of an improvisational jam.  that’s where the flow is strongest, i find.  but it has it’s drawbacks.  one is self-imposed; i always challenge myself not to repeat tricks when jamming.  i know this sounds a little extreme, but i think it has been a great way of pushing myself to continue learning new moves, to always reach.  i do follow this with a grain of salt, though.  for example, the transitions i use when breaking planes are limited in number; i have to reuse them just to do my thing.  so there is some repetition.

my first step with choreography is always to pick the music.  the music is everything.  it sets the pace, the mood, and for me, the movement framework since so much of what i do is tied to rhythm.  i have a playlist of songs “i’d like to perform to” that i’ve been building for a couple of years, but i’ve been feeling pretty sick of most of the songs, because i hoop to them all the time.

after a lot of consideration, i picked one of my newer finds, a great niyaz track, and started my process. for me, it is important to know the music well, to learn it by heart; to know the buildups, the transitions, the timing.  i map out the timing of each section of the song for reference.  i do this so i can sketch ideas in each section of the song with clear markers.  the audio map becomes the template for the movement play.

i like to use a whiteboard when doing choreography.  handy way to play with ideas in your hooping space.  because i don’t subscribe to some of the names people use for moves, i often find myself writing descriptions like “arm blender to alt back bend to front vert isolation”.  (sometimes this cryptic language is completely unintelligible to me later)  i brainstorm for days, trying sequences “live” with the hoop.  adding, subtracting, exploring options.  the whiteboard usually disintegrates into an illegible mess, but by that time, most of the routine has been etched into me.

i’d learned the niyaz tune intimately and loosely sketched out most of the sequences of the routine.  i began practicing in earnest.  then one night i heard a song on pandora that i’ve liked for some time and i was suddenly inspired.  when i tried hooping to it, it was obvious.  this was the song to work with.  immediate gear change.

since i’d already sketched out a number of ideas for the previous song, i had some nice sequences ready to adapt to the new tune.  i’ve spent the subsequent weeks developing beyond these building blocks to craft just about every section of the evolving 4 1/2 minute routine.  i’m trying to pull widely from my repertoire to build the best showpiece i can.

photo by jeremy sharp, 2009.

when i originally set out to choreograph a solo piece i didn’t have a specific gig in mind for the debut.  i’ve been working with the confidence that something apropos would come up.  to my delight,  it has.  my friend isa, of temple of poi fame, has invited me to rock a solo at the sf food bank canned food drive fire dancing show.  i’m grateful to have the perfect opportunity for the unveiling of my baby.  i’m also just excited to perform and, of course,  a little freaked.

as i write this, i’m two weeks out from the gig.  i’d say i’ve got about 85% of the routine worked out in my head, but doing it is a whole other story.  that’s more like 60% solid.  the difficulty i’m having has to do with timing and transitions.  some of the combinations i’ve developed are long sequences.  i’m still learning to hear the marker in the music where i should initiate the sequence.  this may sound straightforward, but since i allow for some jamming even within choreographed sections, i can get lost jamming in a “jamming” section and forget to initiate a complicated sequence in time.  then my fancy pop move is blown at the transition.  (does that make sense to anyone but me?)  the other thing is that i always include tricks or movements that i can’t yet do in my choreography.  need to have some things to reach for.  i’ve got a few new moves in this one that i really need to practice until they are rote enough that i can relax about them.   bottom line, i’ve got work to do.

i’d say the underlying challenge i’ve got for this gig is just that i’m going into the final prep a bit worn out.  i’ve just hooped incredibly hard for about 9 months straight.  i feel the keen desire for a week in a hot tub somewhere, with a masseuse and lots of sleep.  maybe that will be my treat to myself after the gig…

photo by kylla benes, 2009.

here is an unedited version of my recent hooping.org firehooping post

the intensity of the light. the tangible vortex of heat. that throaty fire-moving-through-air-white-noise-whoosh pulsing around your body. the smell of smoke and fuel with a hint of burnt hair. playing with darkness and light, wind and air.

i love fire hooping. i find it unique among my hooping experiences. while there are limits to the moves that i can safely translate from regular hooping to fire, i find the challenge interesting and the process of discovery intoxicating. there is absolutely nothing like getting into the flow with fire.

since i’m seeing more and more new faces, i thought i’d share a few things i’ve learned that can help those new to firehooping. i remember having tons of questions, even after reading everything i could get my hands on. i will reiterate a few basics that have been posted previously here and elsewhere, but i hope even old timers will get something useful out of this. i will touch base on fear of fire, equipment considerations, and safety suggestions.

the one thing that freaks people out the most is the what-if-something-goes-wrong-and-i set-myself-on-fire issue. people always ask me if i get burned. yep. lots. i spin fire 2-3 times a week; the hair on my forearms has an eternally scorched crew cut. particularly when working on new off-the-body moves, my forearms can get licked in flames. sometimes this means a light burn, sometimes not. (i personally prefer not to have my forearms covered) every once in awhile my hand or shoulder gets a hot kiss. really, that’s about it. i have an aloe burn gel that works really well; the burns heal quickly. the moral of the story is that, yes, you will probably get burned at some point, but it’s not that big of a deal. there is a lot you can do to minimize the risk. the truth is i am far more irritated at having my stuff reek like fuel.

i didn’t have a whole lot of experience with moving open flame prior to getting into firehooping. a campfire or candle just sits there looking pretty, nothing like half a dozen spokes of death in your immediate vicinity, under your (sorta) control. there is definitely an inherent danger in firehooping . fire is powerful. putting it in close proximity to your body is not something to be taken lightly. i’ve heard about some bad accidents in the fire community, particularly with poi getting wrapped around heads and limbs. fortunately, a firehoop won’t entangle you like that.

on some firehoops it’s the metal that is the real danger, rather than the flame. you know the trick you learned as a kid of moving your finger quickly through a small flame on a lighter? now remember touching the iron? it was the iron that left the mark. the best burn i ever got, now completely healed, was in the shape of the head of a screw. watch those metal bits!

photo by steven walker, 2009.

personally, i think it is important to build up a solid set of hooping skills before you light up for the first time. firehooping is technically more complex than normal hooping: you have all these pokey, hot things to deal with, often in low light conditions. it makes sense to build up a substantial familiarity with the hoop before taking the step to fire.

once you’re ready to flame on, you’ll need a firehoop that is the right diameter and weight for you. you want to be comfortable in it. that being said, i tend to like a slightly heavier hoop for the initial learning phase of firehooping. building muscle memory is easier with a little heft to work with. but, no doubt, a heavier hoop means it takes more out of you. don’t be surprised if you find yourself completely exhausted in the middle of your initial spins.

there is an increasing variety of firehoops available: attached/detachable wicks, rigid/floppy spines, led/fire combo hoops, collapsable, doubles, etc. i suggest trying a few different types before committing to one. you can also make your own. since i’m a better hooper than craftsman, i prefer to trust someone else’s skill in building a firehoop. plus, it’s cool to support the small businesses that hooping has created. the point is that you want a firehoop that is sturdy, balanced, and a good fit.

you have a few fuel options: white gas, lamp oil, kerosene, color additives, etc. i prefer a fuel mixture of 60/40 lamp oil to white gas. that way you get a bright, easy lighting, flame that will last. it is a little smokier and dimmer than just white gas, but i like to torque the hell out of my hoop and need that extra oil to keep the wicks burning longer. the one big downside with lamp oil is that it can make your spin area slippery. as to other options, i’m told that kerosene is super smoky: unfortunately, it seems to be one of the few fuel choices available around a good portion of the world. i generally stay away from the color additives. my understanding is that the pretty blue flame you see is supplied by a chemical in bug spray. no thanks. i figure i’m exposing myself to enough toxins with the fuel mix.

for fuel storage, after many different container trials, an ammo can is my favorite solution. it is metal, big enough to dip comfortably in low light conditions, easy to carry, and sealed. works great. you can get them in army surplus/used camping gear stores.

in addition to your firehoop and fuel, you’ll need some support gear. over the years i’ve assembled a basic firekit which includes all that i need to spin fire. i use a yoga bag to carry my collapsable hoop and firekit. inside, i use a medium-sized toiletry bag to protect my wicks and for the rest of the miscellany.

here is what is in my firekit:

aloe burn gel
advil
duvetyn
gloves
knee pads (kneeling on rocky ground or cement hurts)
hat
safety pins (for those clothing items that just won’t cooperate)
misc hoop supplies (extra tape, extra connectors, extra wicks)
wrench
headlamp
scissors (for trimming wicks)
water
lighters (i can’t tell you how many times i’ve been surrounded by 20 spinners with no means of lighting a fire)

the first time i lit up, i was very fortunate to have the support of a couple of top-notch firehoopers who graciously guided me through the process. it made all of the difference in my sense of safety and overall comfort level. definitely have someone experienced walk you through your first few burns, if you can.

when firehooping the first few times, i suggest focusing on just familiarizing yourself with the unique environment, the weight of the hoop, the heat, the brightness, the smoke, etc. take your time. as you grow more comfortable with it, you can start exploring your normal range of movement, staying aware of the position of the wicks/spines in relation to your body. in my experience, most burns happen when i’m doing things off-the-body.

if you ever get in trouble, the easiest thing to do is drop the hoop and step away. also, you can always ask your safety to put your wicks out at any time for any reason.

there are a few other things you can do to maximize your enjoyment while minimizing your risk. here are my top ten safety suggestions:

1) make smart clothing choices. i know, the fun materials are all flammable. natural fibers, like cotton or hemp, are always best. when ignited, they will burn in and of themselves instead of melting to your skin like synthetics. not sure if what you are wearing is flammable? snip off a piece and carefully light it over an ashtray or sink. it will be very clear whether you want that material burning next to, or melting into, your skin.

but you still want to wear the shiny one? one solution is to sew an inner, safer layer under the synthetics, giving you a protective barrier. one clever suggestion i’ve heard is to use ironing board fabric as the underlying layer.

also, try spinning in your fancy clothing with your firehoop unlit before lighting up. things snag, flowy bits get in the way, suddenly you don’t have the range of motion you are used to, etc. better to figure this stuff out before you have burning wicks to deal with.

skin is in. the natural stickiness of skin helps add that extra bit of control that is useful when hooping, in general, but is particularly helpful when spinning fire. obviously, be comfortable, but the more skin you have available, the more (potential) control you have.

2) protect your head. the way i hoop, my hair is just asking to be toast (and i simply don’t have enough to spare as it is). i almost always wear a hat. you can also wet down your hair, if you prefer.

even with a hat, it’s a good idea to wait until the flames have died down a bit to do any tricks that bring the flame close to your face. i’ve scorched eyebrows and eyelashes a few times. partially singed eyelashes just look funny.

3) designate a safe area for fuel. a tree. a rock. a curb. whatever. keep all of your fuel there and don’t spin anywhere near this space. make it a communal effort to keep the drunk idiot with the cigarette away.

4) double check your hoop/spines/wicks before each spin. you should give your entire hoop a once over before you dip, paying particular attention to the spines/wicks. if the spines are the screw-in type, they can come loose. (you should check the permanent spines, too: i’ve almost been brained by a not-so-permanently attached permanent spine that somehow came loose from a friend’s hoop) also, any frayed strings of kevlar should be trimmed from the wicks. this prevents flaming bits flying off. fire marshals don’t like frayed wicks. (i’m sure there is a good joke in there somewhere)

if you are using a collapsable firehoop with those plastic connector inserts, i suggest covering them with tape to keep them from snagging or scratching.

5) use safeties. hangups about using safeties abound, but it is just foolish not to have someone there to put you out if you are in trouble. clothing can catch fire without you noticing it. safeties should have duvetyn or a wet towel ready to go, and be watching your spin. here is some good fire safety information from temple of poi. make sure anyone volunteering to safety actually knows what they are doing. if not, take the time to teach them “hands-on” how to do it correctly.

6) let others know what is in your fuel mix. if you share your fuel with other people be sure to let them know if there is lamp oil (or anything other than white gas) in the mix before they dip. this is particularly true for other fire tools.

7) spin off. i still routinely see firehoops that have not been completely spun off. this results in a sputtering firey circle of death flying every which way. dangerous and avoidable.

lightly shaking off a newly dipped wick over your dip can is not enough. you need to spin off as well. my preferred way to spin off is to spin the hoop vertically over my outstretched hand a few revolutions, away from my body, avoiding the spray. the other way i’ve seen it done is to hold the hoop horizontally and whip it in a wide swath away from the body. you need to rotate the hoop and repeat until all wicks have been spun off. either way, you need some space away from everything else for this.

8) be aware of your surroundings. do you really have enough space to firehoop safely? is the ground even? is it windy? are there tree limbs in the way of that toss you can’t wait to try? is that person actually trying to come up and dance with you right now?

weird things can and do happen. if you are spinning with others, all kinds of flaming tools can end up in your spinning space unexpectedly. it is also easy to get disoriented within the light, heat and sound of the fire.

to make matters worse, you can cause mayhem without knowing it. i finished a spin at a large fire gathering and noticed i was missing a wick. checking with the safeties, i found out it had broken during my spin and been launched a good thirty feet towards the crowd. could have been bad. totally unforeseen and unnoticed until the end.

always double check your clearance before attempting tosses. you may not be in the same space you thought you were in.

9) once your spin is done, make sure your wicks are all out. i’ve seen several instances wherein spinners exiting the play/performance space don’t realize they still have a wick on fire. i’ve also seen other tools light up accidentally from wicks that looked like they were out. wicks and spines are still hot, even when the flame is out. let them cool down before redipping.

10) give yourself time. learning to play with fire takes practice. you may feel very limited in what you feel safe doing for quite awhile. the more you practice, lit and unlit, the more comfortable you will become.

i also thoroughly recommend stepping outside of the hoop-blinders to spin with other people using other fire tools (poi, staff, fans, etc.). you will learn an incredible amount from the greater fire community.

other than that, have fun with it. there is no space quite like the magical vortex within a spinning firehoop. playing with fire has it’s own challenges, but preparation, skill, awareness and common sense go a long way in making it safer than it looks. treat the fire with respect and you should be fine.

feel free to contribute your wisdom or feedback.

i’ll see you in the circle.

it was going well until a few days ago. after three hardcore firehoop practices and two gigs in one week, i found myself in that total worn out-zone. that body-feels-like-oatmeal place of low energy and sore shoulders. the notion of another round of heavy hooping to come just made me feel more tired.

so i took a few days off.

pestered by hoop guilt, i would shyly glance at my hoops from time to time thinking, “maybe i’ll just loosen up my back a bit”…”what if i try that toss across my body?…(or the eternal) i really need to work on my reverse current…” but checking in with my body, the message was clear: it was still mad at me. i let the reasonable part of me win the argument over the impatient part of me that likes to play, and just said no. go do something else.

lo and behold, after a few days of downtime i started feeling better. i found myself once again looking forward to the upcoming hooping opportunities. of course, when i did finally pick up the hoop again it felt great. everything loose, no soreness. body very happy. even flashes of inspiration. since then, i’ve gotten in several solid spins and feel fine.

breaks are good.

photo by donovan watts, 2007.