When was the last time you actually danced like no one was watching? I’m guessing it was probably longer ago than you can remember. Like, literally before you can remember. Maybe when you were two, or three, or maybe four. Or possibly you have, on occasion, had alcohol-fueled dance parties where you think you’re dancing like no one is watching, but in reality you think everyone is watching because you’re so fabulous (not me, I’ve never done that, but I’m sure somebody has somewhere). Nothing wrong with that, I assure you, but I have something better, and you don’t have to suffer the next day.
Dancing in the Dark! Really, really dark. I had the joy of participating in Sol Dance (I’m sure it’s trademarked somewhere) Friday night, and it was amazing. This is the deal. Every reflective surface, everything that might emit any light, is totally blacked out. You’re given a “firefly”, which is essentially a little piece of non-skid mat with glow-tape affixed to it. You are told to stay near your firefly, and if you have to leave your designated spot (like to go to the bathroom, or whatever), you bring your firefly with you, because, honey, that is the only way anybody is gonna know where you are. So, you stand in your spot, make sure you have water within reach and mentally prepare. Then, the lights are turned out and the music is turned up and you dance. Like crazy.
Here’s the thing. Even if you’re totally alone and you crank up the music and move, there is still somebody there to judge you. You. If you stumble, you judge yourself. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you start judging what you look like and lose the joy of the dance, just for the joy of it. You start thinking about what you look like, what you want to suck in, or push out, and before you know it, you’re over it. Or you can’t find your groove and start feeling like you just “can’t” dance.
Now imagine dancing just for the sheer joy of it, with no idea what you look like, because you can’t see yourself. You move your body in any way you want to, because it feels good, and true, and like the most authentic expression of your joy in the moment. And it’s only your movement. And it doesn’t matter if you “can” or “can’t” dance, because it’s only moving your body, your way. Hard, soft, fast, slow, arms, legs, hair, whatever you want to move.
Dancing is one of the most primitive, primal ways we, as humans, have expressed ourselves for centuries. People have used dance in rituals for, I don’t even know what, since history was recorded. From a chakra standpoint, dancing barefooted is one of the best ways to ground yourself, to strengthen and balance your first chakra -your right to BE. This is primal, powerful stuff. This is reaffirming your place on this earth, your birthright as a beautiful manifestation of the creative energy of the universe. And to do it in complete freedom – that, my friends, is a gift worth keeping.
At one point during our session the other night, when before I had been able to feel the movement energy of those in the room with me, I felt stillness. I wondered, briefly, if everybody had sneaked out while I was dancing like a maniac. But then I decided I didn’t care and just kept moving. Removed from time, from responsibilities, from thought, from everything except the spontaneous joy in moving my body in space. If you haven’t done this yet, get thee to Sol Dance!
My only complaint? One hour is not nearly enough time for me to dance out all my joy.