Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Dirty Sacred Dancing

I am a dancer. I dance because it is fun. I dance to disappear into something bigger, a nothingness and everything at the same time. When I dance, a deep intimacy arises within. I am no longer afraid. My soul, my deepest most loving self is alive and pulsating with scintillating pleasure. Dirty, ecstatic and sacred dancing held in the same regard. Dance is a form of prayer for me. A form of communication with the deepest parts of myself, creator, others, and life. I dance to feel Her. To allow Her to be seen. Dancing is freedom for me.

When I dance I am a catalyst to change. Gritty, dirty, sultry dancing. Shaking off old patterns and shimming my way into a new way of being. My dancer is pure truth in form taking action. I dance to fly! To allow my soul freedom to be as it is. An uncontained expression of the divine and as I twist my hips or roll my chest I release myself into this great space. At the speed of light, a bullet train surges through me, the ultimate force, when I am surrendered to this that I am. Finding solace in my own unique originality and ability to take refuge in Her, as she takes Her course.

In the physical sense I move my body to and with music showing my appreciation for it's rhythmic and compelling nature. The beat is my master, my lover, my friend. I can count on it, despite it's need to control me. It's extended time way from a song leaves me begging for it to drop and reclaim myself. The melody and my body's longing to tell it's story leave me at times in a trance, lost without recollection of time. I love to dance lyrically and with strength, a sense of silly absurdness connected with an authentic core and essence of being. I find the physical affects to be tremendous. The breakdown of what was comfortable. A release from the exhaustion of holding tension and stress that was carried too long. A shattering of built up inertia. I love the burn in my lungs, the tears in my muscles, and the tug of nausea when I know I have danced too hard, too fast, too long. 

Mentally it can be an experience of deep contemplation. A processing and a sifting through the thoughts that no longer serve. A meditative experience that envelopes me in peace. I can easily release the past, ignore the anxiety of the future, and find myself home, in the here and now.  In the spiritual sense, dancing gives me space to be as I am, to unfold, giving form to my own divine self. When I lose my center completely, unable to find a point of reference and allow the great mystery to flow through in expression, I feel the most free and connected.  

Dance allows us to merge, integrate and unify our hearts. It crosses all borders, boundaries and lines of separation. Dancing creates flow, synchronicity and aligns us with the highest. Each of us dancers,  pieces, to the whole of the collaboration, a part of the choreography of life. It brings us together. As we have faith in the ultimate choreographer, creator, and partner, and dance with all of our heart, we demonstrate the holist of work, surrender.

Once we learn to dance alone we can begin to move in alignment with another being that promises to listen to the music that guides and will hold us in the essence of our truth. Our aloneness serving as a bond of silence that we will never hold against each other. That we may feel free to dance when we are moved to and be in faith in the space between dances. It creates a bond, an understanding that if I step on your toe it's simply apart of our dance and we'll keep dancing. We can begin to experience and feel this non-verbal communication of our souls moving in continuity to the melody the mystery has created for us, our very own song.

This is the dance I want to dance together whenever we are near so that even apart I will be with you and you with me, a place called home, what our souls long for. As we dance, step to step, from moment to moment, our movement permeates everything. I will feel the vibration of your breath as it touches your face and the penetration of your exhale as it enters my lungs. Dance with me when I grieve, and when I sleep, and when I have had an incredible day. In the rain while we play as if almost in liquid fluidity. In the silence, or the time between steps, you can easily find me. Our loving, sweet nature allowing us to experience each other as we do ourselves. As one. It is the dance of love, truth, bliss, and intimacy.

Will you dance with me? And be the guardian of my solitude?