A few weeks ago, I told you about a 5rhythms workshop I attended in Maui. One day, Lucia, our workshop facilitator told us to pair up and find a dance partner. She told us to watch one another dance and notice the parts we didn’t move. Perhaps there was hidden trauma stored in that area that movement could catalyze.
Sam, my partner told me that my chest didn’t move as much as the rest of my body. I pondered this for a little and reasoned that I didn’t like drawing attention to my large breasts, and therefore, did not move my chest as much when I danced.
Since that workshop, I have really tried to pay attention to my dance. Was I hiding my breasts? Was I embarrassed by my large chest? That idea just wasn’t sitting right with me, but I couldn’t come up with any other explanation.. so on I danced.
Yesterday, everyone was gone when I came home from work, so I grabbed my speaker and decided to dance in the living room instead of my usual solo-bedroom dance.
As I swirled and twirled around the living room, I felt a little flutter in my chest, I danced on. The music changed into a nice staccato rhythm. This is masculine energy and it seems to be where I am most comfortable in the dance, with short, choppy, phallic, staccato rhythms, I danced on…
Suddenly, my heart fluttered again. I closed my eyes and listed to the wisdom of my body and danced on. It was not pain, it was just a flutter, I was not afraid, it did not hurt, I kept dancing.
As I continued dancing, my mind melded with the staccato rhythm, my body took over the dance. I found myself sobbing through this dance, although nothing was on my mind in particular, I was actually existing in the space between thoughts for the dance, but the tears flowed endlessly, purging my eyes.
I wondered if I should stop and address the source of my tears, but remembered that In order to purge it, I needed to keep moving though it and so I danced on and cried,
A mad samba ensued and I drifted further into the rhythm of chaos as my body continued purging whatever tears it deemed necessary. My limbs flailed and my heart pounded. My eyes continued to purge and I drifted blissfully farther and farther away from my mind. My body was in control of its own destiny.
Into the post coital rhythm of lyrical, I danced with a lighter step. I still do not know what I was crying about, but whatever it was, it was gone now and my body felt lighter, having removed its hidden burden.
I know I danced a few lyrical rhythms before landing on the floor in a puddle of sweat, tears and probably some snot. In stillness, my heart revealed its secret; I was not hiding my breasts at all, I was hiding my heart.
I found a window to my heart on the dance floor yesterday. I am not certain how long it has been hiding. I am sure the dance will reveal more when it is ready.
The dance has released polar tears, the runoff of melting ice that has surrounded my heart. I have finally danced myself open. I am shattered.