~Sharing (2o) in the Progression Into Beauty project~

fire danceI am noticing that, since I made the commitment to move my body more this month, I have had a plethora of opportunities open up – more than I’ve had in a long, long time – to move my body in my most favorite way: DANCE. Yesterday was one such experience, as I attended the African dance class at the Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center. I used to attend this class regularly and, for one reason or another  (most likely, money), I stopped going. My favorite thing about these particular classes is that the dancing is done to the accompaniment of live drummers. Delicious!

At any rate, I really got into yesterday’s class and enjoyed every minute of the low-to-earth Congolese movements we were doing. My body was lit up and I couldn’t stop smiling. 90 minutes later I felt so alive and vibrant. That feeling lasted throughout my day and changed the way I viewed everything I did. Each person I related with was more Light, I felt so compassionate and loving. It was an incredible experience that lingered through to today when I awoke feeling just as vibrant and loving as I felt after class yesterday.

Then I went to get out of bed…

Oh holy snort! Hello glutes and hamstrings and sartorius and abs and iliotibial band! Oh. My! I suddenly realized that I had muscles in areas where I had forgotten I had muscles. The lactic acid had set in and I was stiff, tight and achy. In the past, that would have been a signal to me to be very, very still – to not move a single muscle because of the agony. This time, however, I decided to do something different. Instead, I opted to move my body. I did yoga.

While doing yoga, I had my headphones on listening to meditative music. On that playlist was a song called Nara by E.S. Posthumus. Their music is so rich, cinematic and such a visual experience for me that every time I hear this particular song, I see a grand dance production with impossibly difficult positions, movements and grace. I feel the dance building inside my body and I yearn to dance the movements I see in my mind. I feel the cool air of the theatre as I wait in the wings to enter the stage, the velvet of the curtains kissing my skin. I smell the scent of years-old dust, sweat and wood. I feel the inexplicable underlying tension of readiness and awareness as I burst onto the stage, moving my body in harmony with the lyrical notes, percussion and woodwinds. I am the music.

And this morning, I allowed myself to follow that impulse. I danced that dance I could see in my head as tears rolled down my cheeks. I let my soul sing the brilliance from within through the movement of my body. Suddenly, I was young again and all was right with my world because… I. was. dancing.

I cried because of how often I’ve denied myself the joy of movement. I cried because I’ve stopped myself. I cried because I’ve not let myself feel this love. This very thing that brings me to life and lights me up and helps me to burst into the world as I am meant to do! I cried because… I have denied myself and, therfore, I have denied my Creator. I have turned off this gift of healing through movement and have told myself I am too old or too fat or too… whatever the “too” is. I’ve bought into the lie and I’ve let myself stop living.

And then, I a memory surfaced… a time when I was in drill team and dance company… my senior year in high school. It was time to pick roommates  for drill team summer camp. I don’t know why this memory came up while I was dancing a dance that was unlike anything related to drill team. But it did. And I faltered in my steps, lost my balance and felt the emotions crash through me as I realized… everyone had a roommate but me. No one wanted to be my roommate. The team captain sighed, rolled her eyes and said reluctantly, “Ok… I’ll be Angie’s roommate.”

I remembered the feeling… how my heart ached in that moment. How I looked around at all the pairs of girls who were so excited to be roommates and me… the last girl standing. Alone.

Now I was crying because I didn’t cry then. I didn’t let on then how much it hurt to have no friends. I didn’t let on how much I wanted to be out of my shell… that angry shell that was supposed to be protecting me from getting hurt was continually hurting me. I cried now because I couldn’t cry then. I cried now because I was grieving the process of letting go of my then-dreams of being loved for who I was. No one could have loved me for who I was because I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t want anyone in. Especially girls… I didn’t like girls. I didn’t trust them. Down through the ages, my maternal line of ancestors has been a long line of women who believed women were only interested in destroying one another. I cried for them. I cried for me.

And… even though I faltered as the tears fell on my toes, tripping me and throwing me off balance… even though I stumbled and almost fell… even though I felt dizzy although I did not spin… even though my heart ached for the lonely girl I once was… and, sometimes, still am… even though… I. still. danced.

By God! I danced until the memory faded. I danced until that young girl I once was looked up, met my eyes and finally understood the truth… Angie! You are amazing! God made you the miracle that you are! And then I saw a tear slide down her cheek and I knew that she knew.

And, still, I danced. I danced until there was no more movement in me and then I danced some more. I danced myself through the pain of unmet dreams. I danced myself through the broken hearts. I danced myself through the abandonment. I danced myself through the infidileties, the violence, the betrayals. I danced myself into life and… I croed as O damced/ O fe;t ot a;;/ O p[emed i[ amd fe;t ot a;;/ O damced omtp ,u spi;d amd amdamced imto; O cpi;dm

t catcj ,u breatj/  Imto; ,u bpdu saod/// pl/// we

re jere//// empigj/// upi dod ot/

And then I sat and cried. Because… no matter what I’ve done to me… my body has just been waiting for me to wake up and find that I love myself. I forogt tjhat fpr a ;pmg to,e amd/// ot

s gppd tp re,e,ber/

And.. since I am sobbing as I write this with my eyes closed to get the lingering feelings out… I just looked up and realized that some of the time my fingers were off home-base and that has made some of it be gobbledegook. That’s okay. I’m going to leave it. My soul knows what it needed to get out.

And it did.

BACK TO DIRECTORY

 

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0 Responses to Truth in Movement

  1. libramoon says:

    I thought you might like to be aware of this online resource group:

    http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/healingdance/

    Healing Dance Network – a web between the various healing dance studies,
    theories, practitioners and proponents through which to find, share and
    expand knowledge and understanding into the possibilities and realities of
    healing through dance. I am hoping you will let us know about your own
    search and findings and how we might work together to bring our learning
    further.

    Peace,
    Laurie – libramoon42@mindspring.com
    http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com

  2. Jen says:

    How I love you. How I love this. THANK YOU for sharing.

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