No matter how often I look out my kitchen window, I continue to experience a mental 
shift, a subtle adjustment, as my eyes come to rest on what looks like a grand wedding cake 
perched next to the arroyo at the rear of my property.

The yurt, the dance yurt, a studio, a palette, a place just a few steps away where I can practice, 
or not; where I can sit, stare, call out, and dance; where I can step out in the morning before 
anything, or at night, in the dark with the glow of only a small lamp lighting my way as the 
rustling of the neighboring horses reminds me where I am.

The walls are a brick red—so appropriate for this landscape—and the dome roof a gleaming 
white, especially at night when lit from within. It's 30 feet in diameter with a shining wood floor 
to dance on, to sleep on, or to sway across. You've probably seen a yurt before; it's not anything 
new. Even this particular yurt is used. But it is new here, next to the arroyo, next to my house.

Since moving to New Mexico three years ago, I've dreamed of an at-home studio, where I could 
work with individuals one-on-one or in small groups with minimum fuss and maximum 
camaraderie; where I could share this blessed landscape. But I couldn't imagine how I would 
raise enough money to actually build the perfect studio—adobe, straw bale, cob, lots of glass, 
sparkling floor. Then when I had become the most discouraged, having turned away from the 
idea altogether, some friends announced they had a yurt they were trying to sell.

I have taught in a 30-foot yurt before at  Tassajara Zen Center, Hollyhock, and Green Gulch 
Farm. The intimacy of the space seems to inspire people to relax and dip deeper into the 
ever-present well. Miraculously, as if it were all just waiting to fall into place, shortly after I 
learned about the yurt, six extraordinary donors offered the money to make it happen. 
So here it is.

I still intend to teach larger trainings in California, New Mexico, Europe, and elsewhere; but 
here in this backyard yurt, students and I can face each other more directly and intimately.

I imagine you coming by yourself or with a few others to dance, to train in and practice 
Action Theater, to dream up and work on a performance piece, to be directed on a piece 
you've already been heating up.

Come. Get in touch.