Dance; a reflection on my personal healing and embodiment practice
The body has no desire to mask the truth, for it simply cannot.
Whilst the body endlessly continues to communicate, this does not necessarily mean that one will comprehend the message.
When I discovered the deep therapeutic, spiritual, and artistic release that is conscious dance back in 2015, I found myself swimming in what simultaneously felt familiar, like home, and found myself only beginning to dip my toes in the mystery of the feminine realm.
Years later, I can honestly say that in many ways a lot has changed, but in many ways, I still feel the awe and reverence, excitement and mild trepidation, I did the very first time I stepped foot onto the conscious dance floor. And I think that this is a good thing, because approaching the Mystery requires a sense of openness, willingness and humility.
Change after change, death after death, dance has been a constant in my life.
As a practice, dance has continued to reveal an intimacy with the ever unfolding and expansive nature of life.
There is never certainty, and in some ways, this is one of the things I have learned to love most about dance, and about life.
I can always dance without needing any particular reason.
I can dance for the pleasure of moving my body. To feel they way my body wants to move, from the inside out. From a sensation, a body part, an emotion, a story. And there is great pleasure in this.
And dance can be a distraction, an interruption too, providing me with a visceral respite, and in the space it frees me from the need to free myself. Dance reminds me that liberation is built into human form, that life is always waiting for me/ us to remember.
And dance can be a conversation, a prayer between the layers of my body. Between me and another dancer. Between me and the Mystery.
It is in this way, dance so beautifully reflects life.
For this reason, among many others, I see dance as a healing practice, one that brings any human being to the truth of a particular moment in time. Like breadcrumbs, this practice reveals ourselves to us in ways that talk therapy simply cannot.
As you can see, there are infinite entry points to dance. I can bring anything and everything, and nothing to the practice. And I can do it all at once too, not knowing what will come through when I fully give myself to the dance.
But the question becomes, how much am I willing to give?
The intentions are infinite.
The perspectives revolve and reveal overt long periods of time.
But the act of celebration, of honouring what is, remains at the core.
I didn’t choose to share dance, it snuck up on me and beckoned me in the way that the feminine does. Dance snuck itself into the way I taught my yoga classes, and eventually it became the centrepiece of my embodiment facilitation, and how I hold women’s circles. Because celebration and honouring life has always sat at the core of my offerings.
When I embarked on weaving dance into the way I work, I had no idea how much this would continue to transform and transport me.
As I continue to rest in the energy of the suspension at this particular point in my life, and as winter moves to spring, I can sense the way that the depths of my dance practice is gestating a new expression, a new form. And at the same time, is returning me to the ancient wisdom that is predates human verbal language. To a truth that can only be communicated through the wisdom of the body.
Somatically speaking, the form of dance I practice and offer to others is formless.
There are no steps to rehearse or perform.
It’s a process of revealing your wisdom.
Of revealing your unique dance.
Dance illuminates the spaces and opportunities for me to trust my body/ life and the dance that I am here to offer the world.
And I’ll be honest, the last few years have given me a chance to work on patience. I suppose trust and patience, for me at least, go hand in hand.
What makes dance sacred is the way that it summons the unknown, and the shadow, through the body. And how the movement of the body is also the shining light that communes the multiple aspects of self through the dance itself.
All of this happening in a split second, and yet it feels like all times stops when my feet touch the dance floor.
Dance asks me to continue moving. Sometimes that movement is hidden deep within my body, and only I feel this. Other times, the whole world can witness my dance. This practice has helped me to discern and titrate the layers of human existence. This practice has supported my shedding and my integration.
All I know is that I must, and I will, keep dancing.
A compulsion, a desire, a discipline, a devotion to the dance.
To the momentum of life. To experience the ways that the mystery works through my physical form. On an individual level, in relationship and collectively.
It is hard to put words to this, but I felt that had to make an attempt. Maybe the art I created also helps.
Adrianna
