This is one of those phrases that generates within me very conflicting emotions when I hear it...on my less proud days, it makes me annoyed. It’s a wall they’ve imposed between themselves and whatever they’re seeing and there’s a part of me that grits my teeth and wants to tell them, “well...sure you can’t, as long as that’s your attitude.” Which is a pat response to an even more pat statement and seldom very constructive.

Ever heard of a mathematician by name of Leonhard Euler? I recently did a video on his Seven Bridges of Köenigsburg solution and its applications to how we create poi paths...well, I've found another use for Euler's work, most notably his Polyhedron Formula. The Cliff's Notes are that Euler noticed upon studying the Platonic Solids that if you counted the number of vertices each of these polyhedra had, subtracted the total number of edges between vertices, and added back the total number of polygonal faces and the number is invariably 2. You can see an outline of the concept below:

While I was collecting votes for the Top 10 Poi Spinners of 2012 effort, it quickly dawned on me that some of the most interesting people I was discovering as part of that process were not going to make the top 10, so I thought it appropriate to highlight some of my favorites who seem poised on the edge of breaking into the mainstream in 2012 and possibly climbing the list by the end of the year if they make good on the promise they’ve shown in the past year. In no particular order, here are 5 spinners that are likely to be making big contributions to the world of poi in 2013:

laterality /lat·er·al·i·ty/ (lat″er-al´ĭ-te) a tendency to use preferentially the organs (hand, foot, ear, eye) of the same side in voluntary motor acts.

My poi are not a tool. They are not a prop. They are not an artificial entity upon which I imbue meaning and metaphor. My poi are not another person or a cell phone. My poi are not a belt or a cup of coffee. My poi are an extension of me. My poi are a part of me. They are a living, breathing extension of my hopes, dreams, and ambitions. They feel my sadness and joy, my aches and pains. They are as much a part of me as my hands, fingers, and eyes. They are an extension of my expression. They emote with my pursed lips. They leap for joy with my springy legs. My poi are not an other thing.

 There is something very unique about life.

There's a question that's been dogging my mind a lot lately when it comes to spinning and more specifically spinning for a living. It's a very simple question that's disarming at first but can lead to a good amount of navel-gazing to answer: why am I doing this? What is it about spinning that makes me want to do it to the exclusion of having a stable day job and the financial security I enjoyed up until so recently? I think I got part of my answer last night.

At a recent regional burn, a friend watched me as I practiced poi one afternoon and lamented that she believed she had no natural talent for the tool. I chuckled and replied that I didn't either, which I didn't think at the time would be such a controversial position, but it lead to a very heated debate over what constituted talent and how one might be judged to have it.

My assertion then is the same as it is now: when it comes to talent there is no such thing.

We all know this story...you're at a festival, spin jam, or on an online forum and somebody mentions a trick or concept you've played a lot with. So much so that you have a framework worked out in your head for how to understand that move and how many other moves interlock with it. You speak up and say, "x move is a type of y and here's why!" And so begins a lengthy debate over the nature of the move that can at times get heated. Each person clings to their understanding and points out the logical fallacies in the other approach.