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Following the Dancing Path

I take a seat in the studio in front of a small group of curious students. Taking a deep breath, I welcome them to my class. I describe the journey we’re about to take. And then I smile and tell them the news I love to share: “You cannot do this wrong. Anything you want to do in this space, in this time, is perfect. There are no rules here apart from the rule of listening to your body and being kind to yourself.” It’s one of my favourite moments in class –seeing the relief, the disbelief, and the relaxation as guards start to come down. It’s the beginning of a journey of joy and discovery. It’s the beginning of the dance.

I don’t remember the first dance steps I took, but if I had to guess I’d say I did them in my living room just as soon as I had that whole “walking” thing down. When I was 5 my mother enrolled me in ballet classes. As the years passed one class a week became two…then four…then seven, until by Grade 11 I was dancing as much as 30 hours a week on top of school. It’s a fairly normal story.

I couldn’t tell you when the joy went out of it. Looking back, I don’t remember a particular day or moment. I just remember a constant agony of self-criticism and a crippling certainty that this was the only way to dance and that I was going to fail. I would never be as thin, strong, or fit as I needed to be. I would never be able to turn, lift my legs, or jump in a consistently “acceptable” manner. In hindsight I was choking, forcing myself into a mould that my soul rebelled against as a certain dead-end and a life of torment. I didn’t see it then, but I see it now. This went on for years. New experiences with modern dance and choreography brought some relief, but always there was this gnawing pain in the background. Finally, in 2000 I gave up my dreams of dance and came back home to study French. I swung from one extreme to the other: I tried to cut dance out of my life altogether.

The DansKinetics class is in full swing now. Whoops and laughs spring involuntarily from the dancers as drums pound and they stomp their way into ecstasy. Dancing through the chakras, they discover new energy, heal old traumas, and come to a place of joy, self-love, and community. Grinning and glowing with joy, I feel the energy swirl around the room.

For six years I tried to ignore the dance that burned inside of me. I went to school, did my homework, and searched for other dreams. Occasionally I returned to dance –a flamenco class here, a few months teaching there. But teaching technique classes felt hollow and wrong, and taking them just brought my old issues back tenfold. The only time the dance felt really right was when I was performing my own choreography, which I did a handful of times. My pieces were always autobiographical –it was as if I could only create movement if it meant something to me, if the feeling overwhelmed the steps.

During this time I also discovered Reiki. I was fascinated by the dance of energy, the dynamics of the chakras, and the beauty of the extrasensory world. By December 2005 my husband and I were both certified Reiki masters. My experiences with Reiki gave me a glimpse of a new approach to life, to myself, and to others. It laid the foundation for what came next.

The class is winding down. The dancers lie on the floor in deep meditation as a Tibetan bowl sings in the background. I read them a favourite poem. Slowly the dancers stretch, roll over, and sit up. They look at each other, at me, with new eyes. I smile and thank them for dancing with me.

Christmas 2005: While flipping through a Reiki magazine I came across an ad for a workshop in Reiki Healing Dance. Weeks later I walked into the studio in Portland, ME looking for guidance, vision, hope…I didn’t know what. It was amazing – two days of improvisation and energy work in a studio with two women who I would have –up until that point- classified as “non-dancers.” They were nothing of the sort. It was in that weekend that I realized that dance is more than steps and technique –dance is nothing less than the physical embodiment of the spiritual self. It doesn’t need to be learned. Throughout the ages people have danced –for joy, for healing, in prayer. My mind opened and I glimpsed the dancing path before me. That workshop led me to the works of Gabrielle Roth, Isadora Duncan, Janet Adler, and many others. It also led me to investigate new ways to explore this bright new world of dance. When I went to the DansKinetics teacher training at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health five months later (without ever having taken or even seen a class) my heart swelled. I knew I had come home again.

The students leave the studio with smiles and thanks. As the door closes I look back on my journey. Every experience in my life has led me to this one perfect moment, to this job –this calling that lights up my life. I breathe a prayer of gratitude for the magical journey I’m on, for the dance of my body, breath, and spirit. I collect my things and close the studio door, already looking forward to new classes, new experiences…new steps along the dancing path.