Jonathan Baxter thinks there may be more hoops per household in Carrboro, N.C., than anywhere in the country.

He's part of a cottage industry that has sold hoops-like a hula hoop but large enough for adults-for almost seven years. They've sold about 300, made from rolls of 100-foot irrigation piping from hardware stores.

These are just not any old hula hoops, and Baxter does not limit himself to making them. Baxter has taught hooping for three years at Balanced Movement Studio in Carrboro, and has traveled across the country to teach workshops.

"It's important to differentiate between hula hoping what I do," Baxter said. "The stuff that we use is big and the ratio is different. Like when you're a little kid you can rock a hula hoop because it's so much bigger than you are. But when you come as an adult it becomes really hard because you've gotten big but the hoop has stayed small. The way to get around that is to make a bigger hoop and then the ratio returns from your childhood," he added.

How Did Hooping Get Popular?

Hooping is a practice that came out of the jam band music scene, and is popular on the West Coast. It's like a dance: Hoopers spin, whirl and whiz a hoop around their waists, knees, ankles, and wrists, keeping the hoop airborne for the length of one hip hop or world music song.

It took root in Carrboro when people saw hoopers spinning in the green space at Weaver Street Market, and spread by word of mouth. North Carolina has become a hooping Mecca, Baxter said, and people in Carrboro have even adapted to his particular style.

And although the bulk of his income comes from teaching workshops on the West Coast, Baxter still he still thinks there is something special about Carrboro.

"My approach, the way that I teach and the way that I approach hooping, has a very holistic meditative, uh, kind of, I hate to say it, but self-help kind of feel to it," he said. "This is an area that is really receptive to it. You have a lot of body workers here, you have energy workers here. I think you could go to other areas and teach hooping, but the practice of it and taking it seriously is something that is kind of unique to Carrboro," he said.

How Baxter Got Started

Baxter started hooping at parties to entertain his friends. "It's just been the craziest ride," he said, of his progression to making it a full-time job.

He started taking it seriously when he broke his collar bone while riding a bike, got bad medical advice, suffered from an atrophied shoulder and then decided to rehabilitate the injury with a hoop. For three months, he hooped with a six or seven pound hoop to the length of a burned CD. Most hoops weigh in the ounces.

There were unexpected side effects to his practice. All his life he suffered from bouts of debilitating depression, but after three months of hooping, the depression did not last as long.

"I would still get sad, but it wouldn't knock me out," Baxter said.

It was then that he started to want to teach. As the son of a minister from outside of Charlotte and a religion major before transferring to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill to study art, Baxter's classes are imbued with spirituality.

Finding a Focus

Baxter focuses his classes around a myth about a group of women called the Maidan, who descended from a divine wind. He left the story open-ended so his students could adapt it their personal style.

He liked the idea of making the story about women so he didn't have to place himself in the myth. "I didn't see myself as a re-born Gandhi or anything, I just wanted to be a regular guy," he said.

For Natalie Shaw, mother of two, hooping was a way to reconnect with herself. "You sort of get wrapped up in being a mom," she said. "I lost a little of what made me Natalie before."

It has also given her family a new way of playing together. "Sometimes when kids are playing, it's not something that the adults want to do," she said. "But this is something we can do together."

Ann Humphreys, a student and fellow teacher of Baxter's, said the class has become a tight-knit community. "It's very much like a church should be," Humphreys said. "We help each other out."