Kaye Erhardt

Nasu Dyami didn't teach me how to dance with fire. He didn't have to.

He taught me how to build practice poi and how to spin a three-beat weave in one lazy afternoon, while the Wildfire Entertainment crew crashed a coin-op laundromat and napped, killing time. We were all waiting rather impatiently, idling high with anticipation of the night's event, preparing for the troupe's final performance before going on hiatus for the winter... that never really ended.

He gave me the confidence to step out on the floor for the first time. After the group's incredible improvised jam session belched it's smokey goodnight the floor opened up and Nasu invited me to dance with him. We danced together, weaving and darting through the crowded floor as though we had the night to ourselves; fireflies flitting and floating on the last warm breeze of summer, alight in the dark.

He taught me that one night can change your life forever. He kindled the spark that still lights up my night-life, though it has flickered and waned through the years to a humble candle's flame. In memory of Nasu, and the shiny kid I used to be, that small fire will always burn brightly, hopeful against the encroaching gloom of bad luck and cynicism.

He lived and died eschewing convention in favor of embracing a generous enthusiasm for life. He never hesitated . He lived his dreams every day. He inspired everyone who's life he touched, even in small ways, to do great things, to be a little bit kinder, and a lot more free.

He gave me wings, though I never dared to dream of the sky, and I found myself flying, floating on the still warm breeze of a summer night. Even if I never fly again, I'll always cherish the memory of Nasu Dyami, who inspired me to chase my dreams....