Over the weekend, I went to a conscious dance session for people who are grieving over the loss of a loved one, or dealing with other hardship in their lives.
I have gone to several healing dance events such as this in the past, and I wanted to give it another go. Also, I was going to meet with the coordinators afterward to discuss how I could contribute with my book to a future session. Maybe I said those reasons in ascending order 😉
During the session, I accessed feelings of grief and loss, but not quite the ones I was expecting to. Well, for one, I was frustrated with my lack of flexibility. I recalled the years I was training to teach Pilates and yoga and how agile and fit I was. It wasn’t the first time that I felt the heart wrenching feeling of betrayal from my body. I longed for the days when I freely and skillfully moved and stretched; it was so effortless back then.
And while I have periods where I can work to bring my flexibility back up, it is much more effort, and it’s never quite the same.
And the second emotion that I encountered, perhaps the strongest one, in fact, was not a form of grief at all. It was an intense feeling of self-consciousness and social comparison. “No one is looking at you,” the instructor said repeatedly.
Well, that’s not my issue- my problem is that I am looking at myself, and I am looking at others—and their skills and liberated dance moves are intimidating the crap out of me.
I have always found group activities threatening. I prefer to do my own thing, in my own space. If there are 15 other people in a room, I, by definition cannot “own the space.” I notice the others too much and I don’t feel comfortable or free. And yes, I do think others are looking at me.
Maybe that’s why I love writing. I am with myself and no one else. I can clearly hear my voice and connect to it, and I can soar into my own unique thoughts and image of the world around me.