So far with TED we've explored issues of Technology and Design, so now it's time for a little Entertainment. But knowing TED the entertainment will be cutting edge. And so it is.

You've seen them on the Oscars. You've seen them on the Ford commercials. Now see an amazing intimate performance.

Pilobolus dance company members Otis Cook and Jennifer Macavinta perform the sensuous duet "Symbiosis." Does it trace the birth of a human relationship, or the co-evolution of a pair of symbiotic species? That's left for you to decide. Gorgeous, organic choreography blurs the boundaries between the two performers, who use the body's own geometry to lift, move and combine. The music, recorded by the Kronos Quartet on Nonesuch Records, is a compilation of works: "God Music" from Black Angels by George Crumb, "Fratres" by Arvo Part, and "Morango ... Almost a Tango" by Thomas Oboe Lee.

Caution, this is a 14 minute video, so if you don't have the time right now, check back later.



Pilobolus began as an experiment among three guys and one puzzled professor in a Dartmouth dance class back in 1970. It was survival of the giddiest, as the three non-dancers goofed around with the material they'd been given -- themselves -- and got entangled in science-inspired poses (think: "soft-belly protoplasmic thing") and movements. From these humble, biological beginnings has emerged an innovative, unlikely and almost-uncategorizable dance company that combines athleticism, grace and humor with a profound sense of unity.

All this from a dance troupe that names itself after a fungus that thrives in cow dung!

Their smooth, organic choreography -- featuring unusual partnering and lifts -- often blurs the lines between individual performers, creating a sense of dance-troupe-as-organism. Still evolving after 35 years, Pilobolus has built up a repertoire of more than 85 works and received numerous awards, including the Samuel H. Scripps American Dance Festival Award for lifetime achievement in choreography. Their hilarious appearance at the 2007 Oscars -- where they built witty silhouettes to punctuate the ceremony -- brought the troupe further into the public eye.

"Your beliefs in the nature of strength, endurance and gravity will not hold. In fact, they will be defied. And every time you think, 'Whoa, how the hell did they do that?' they will take it further."
Dance Insider

And be sure to check out another of their videos that Whit left in the Comments section.

It was in the late afternoon and I heard the shots plain as day from my home half a kilometer away. And if I had any doubt it was gun fire, the numerous police sirens soon laid that to rest.

Two Toronto Police officers were patrolling an apartment at Morningside and Lawrence when they were shot at by a drive-by gunman outside a Scarborough high rise.

Slugs ripped into two cars parked at the apartment and also into the empty St. Martin de Porres schoolyard across the street. The shooting took place half a block away from where the police horse Brigadier was run down and killed.

Officers from 43 Division fanned out through the area and quickly found the four-door 2006 Acura parked on Oak Knolls Crescent, about three kilometers away.

A search of nearby McDonald's restaurant on Kingston Rd. near Port Union Rd. led to the arrest of one male who had moments earlier tried to hide a knife in the washroom.

Ours is a quiet neighbourhood, for the most part, as city neighourhoods in a major urban area go.

Crime has decreased by nearly ten percent over the past couple of years. We have a large new police division building, our outdated Mall is being replaced by a modern new shopping complex, our GO/VIA Train station has just completed a multi million dollar renovation including extending the platforms, doubling the parking and the construction of elevators and two new tunnels.

New luxury condos and town houses are spreading along Kingston Rd. New Restaurants are being built. A vibrant community market with fresh vegetables, crafts and entertainment runs through the summer on the St. Margarets-in-the- Pines Church grounds. The City have rebuilt Kingston Road with a new treed median and Lawrence Ave in slated for upgrading this summer.

A new book by our local United Church Minister has become a national best seller. New Community Associations are hosting Community Picnics, Clean Up Days, Neighbour's Nights out and other events. More than any other area in Toronto, there is a sense of vibrancy about West Hill.

But all it takes is a punk with a gun creating the impression of the area being a dangerous place to visit to put everything at risk.

We are just emerging from the second most vicious winter since records were kept and may be entering a long hot summer. We have a lot at stake and I worry.

It is two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. I am stretched out on the couch, innocently reading a book, when a phone call disturbs my tranquility. I frown, having no Karmic debt to repay, that I know of.

My first instinct is to ignore the phone. I am reading White Shell Woman by James D Doss, set on the Ute reservation in Colorado and Daisy Perika, the irritable and cantankerous old shaman has just hatched another wild plot that her long suffering nephew Charlie Moon will not find out about until it's too late. I would rather stay in Colorado, but I pick up the phone in Toronto.

Big mistake.

My wife is at a baby shower for the afternoon so the last person I expect to hear from is her. But it is Linda's voice. She is explaining that the shower is a Jack n' Jill and I was expected to come as well.

A very wise and pregnant lady at my work had just been offering her opinion on Jack n Jill baby showers last week. No way she wanted one, she said, because it meant twice the number of people and half the presents. Maybe I could get her to explain the folly of this plan to Irene, the hostess. Perhaps Irene would then ask all the men to go home?

Alas, my wife was deep into a list of the men who were present and anxious for me to be there. It sounded suspicious, but they were guys I like and haven't seen in a while. And after all, how bad could a baby shower be?

I reluctantly put Doss' book aside and head out. It is a beautiful afternoon. Warm and sunny. The snow has now melted from all but the deepest shadowy places and I make good time driving, hitting nearly all green lights as if the very fates themselves are anxious to get me to the shower.

The room is decorated in delicate blues and pinks. A chair in the corner has been turned into a kind of throne, surrounded by pink and blue streamers. A pregnant woman I have never met before is awaiting my arrival before beginning to open presents. She embraces me awkwardly, her large and apparently active protuberance coming between us.

Apparently my arrival has stirred her enormous belly to a life of its own. She is delighted and insists I feel the movement. I sense a room full of women watching me as I reach out to touch the belly of this woman I have never met before. My hand extends, there is an intake of breath as if everyone in the room had decided at that moment to suck every molecule of oxygen out of the place.

The woman grabs my hand and places on the desired spot. And I feel the sudden kicking and thrashing of new life. It is amazing. And then everyone is suddenly talking at once and I am moved out of the way by a dozen or so women anxious to have their turn.

I have passed the hand on the belly test.

Sadly, it turns out, I have missed the poopy diaper game but there is wine to drink.

"You should have been here for the poopy diaper game," Charlie says.

"Geez, you missed the highlight of the whole afternoon." Brian tells me.

I drink more wine and suddenly discover that I am saying funny things. Witty observations are rolling off my tongue, especially as we get to the gift opening portion of the afternoon.

I am learning about Carter and how most of the women would die for a chance to go to the States to the Carter store. It seems rather extreme to me, so I say a witty thing and people laugh.

Almost all of the gifts have a Lambs & Ivy jungle animal theme so I make another witty observation about naming the child to be Tarzan or Jane and people laugh. And I am suddenly the centre of attention. I drink more wine.

And my wife steers me over to meet Uncle Bob, who sits in a distant corner and he begins telling me about his multiple operations and explains the difference between medicine in Canada and the States. I try saying a few witting things to him, but he lacks a sense of humour and nothing I do or say can stem the tide of the medical nightmares he has survived.

Somehow, the remaining gifts get opened without me. People are starting to put on their coats. Coffee is served in delicate china tea cups, each one unique and none with a handle large enough to get a finger through. A small group are talking about holding another family reunion, like the one we hosted nine years ago. 2009 will be the tenth anniversary, perfect timing for another reunion.

The pregnant lady and her husband are thanking me for my gift and I suddenly realize I have no idea what that gift was. But I modestly accept their thanks anyway. They tell me they are delighted I came and I sense this is true. But I also sense my wife steered me toward Uncle Bob just in the nick of time.

I have survived my first shower.

Maybe you know her? Perhaps you're already a fan.

A 27 year old fraud analyst at Yahoo, she put up a small Kodak camera in the living room of her small apartment where she lives alone with her cats, slipped a karaoke disc into her stereo and sang along. Then uploaded the video to YouTube under her middle name, Ysabella. Plain, raw songs delivered in one take with startling emotional content.

She repeated the process again with another song, and another at the rate of one or two a week. And slowly people started to notice and listen and comment and create their own video tributes to her and play her songs as their wedding dance and at funerals.

As the Los Angeles Times noted in an article on her, it helps that she's "...lovely, with a pale, heart-shaped face and large and shimmering eyes she half-closes as the ecstasy of a well-turned lyric passes through her. She flirts with empty space. She's got the most amazing voice, mellow and perfect-pitched and smoky, the voice of a pack-a-day angel. She's sexy and chaste, a vampy Carmelite."



By now she has uploaded 130 videos of her singing everything from standards to jazz to rock n roll, from Cole Porter to Nora Jones, Let's Misbehave to original compositions.

In fact Let's Misbehave has now been watched by over 700,000 subscribers.



Ysobella Brave, I'm a fan.

It is quiet in the house.

My wife is still sleeping and will likely not wake up for another hour.

Lindsay waits by the back door wanting out, but it is early and she's begun barking at the newly returned birds when I let her out too soon. So she will have to be patient and let the neighbours sleep.

I'm alone with my thoughts. I may not have much time alone today so these are precious moments for me.

In many ways it is just another day, begun as most of my days begin. There are no sounds to make it different, no sights that are different, I feel no different.

But nothing is the same. I have crossed a threshold and there is no turning back.

Yesterday was my birthday.

My 65th birthday.

When I awoke, I already had three greetings in the comments section of my previous day's posting. By the end of the day another 20 people had left beautiful graphics, music, some very clever comments, generous good wishes and one humongous big cake!

They gathered all the staff at my work, gave me a card they had all signed and our Vice President gave a touching speech. Even the President attended. A cake was carried in and a large candle lit. They sang and I stumbled through an inarticulate speech, embarrassed to my core.



Then my department took me out to a Greek Restaurant for an extended lunch. Toronto has a very large and vibrant Greek community and some of the best Greek Restaurants on the continent. However, my wife is not partial to Greek food, so it was at the top of my list when I was asked where I would like to go.

After work I arrived home to a phone that wouldn't stop ringing, my wife finally having to drag me out of the house for the dinner she had planned with my brothers and their wives. My family always has great fun when we're together, so there was much laughter and teasing.

And then we came home.

And then I replied as best I could to all the generous messages you all left, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. And touched.

And then we watched the eleven o'clock National News and learned all of the horrible things that had taken place around the globe condensed into one or two minute sound bites, with accompanying video.

And then we went to sleep.

And now a new day is about to start.

But for now the house is silent and dark, illuminated only by the screen on my laptop.

Outside, the birds are awake and have started their morning song.

The day begins and life goes on, sweeping me along with it, as it's always done.