I love to dance. There is something about allowing my body to move to music that aligns me with my deepest knowing. My body just knows what to do and creates its own language. In the words of Walt Whitman, “my very flesh becomes a great poem.” Dance is the place where my authenticity finds a safe container for spontaneous expression, and when that happens, I feel free. Yes, free.

This piece was inspired by my ongoing experience of dance as a place where I feel free, as well as by a vivid memory of it that lives on in me. A few years ago, I attended a weekly ecstatic dance gathering in Cambridge called Dance Freedom. My favorite part of my time there was when I would skip and twirl around the periphery of the dance floor in endless motion to the likes of “Waves” by Mr. Probz! I felt like an angel in kindergarten, playful and divine all at once. Dance Freedom was such a gift to me. It felt sacred – a place I could show up as I was, and have my own beat contribute to the rhythm of the whole. Magic, raw and real! Love it!

While I don’t make it to Dance Freedom regularly anymore, I find myself making a practice of dance wherever I am – from the kitchen to the beach to other ecstatic dance events. It feels good to be finding a peaceful and even joyous home in my body, especially after relating to it as a project or problem for so long. I have learned that my body knows, and that all it has to say is worthy of my attention. I love how dance has become a tool for listening to my body, allowing its expression, and heeding its wisdom. And on top of that, it’s fun!