Dancing Soul

After three days at the Floating Castle festival out in nature, we just got back home to our colourful, clean and cosy home. Svarun has just finished a painting of our car while I’m typing this, not being entirely sure what I ought to speak about tonight because my head is pretty busy right now. I’m full of lively impressions of the music and the dance; I’m full of fluid feelings, being stirred up to the surface by well-known dramatic stories that my mind has been replaying for the past three days; and I’m simply, purely, entirely – full. When a friend asked me this morning whether I wanted some breakfast, it just hit me: “No, I don’t want to put any more information in until most of it goes out of me.” (Food is also information: one that we pass on to our body, about our very relationship towards it.)

How can I be free, if I can’t dance in front of thee?

Whenever I hear the first couple of tones of a gypsy tune, my body is all eager to tell me: “Come on, I need to move. I need to dance and lose myself in the timeless, where my soul dwells.” I love music, I always have. But dance I’ve only come to meet in the last couple of years. I was first drawn to the belly dance, which led to flamenco, and then to shakti dance last year. The need to dance only came to me as I was coming more and more into my body in my twenties. Before that I lived in my mind most of the time, expect when I went to pee or poo or something. Living in the mind, daydreaming and calculating the whole day, you don’t feel the need to move your body in order to express yourself. The body then only starts to serve as a tool to get from A to B, much like an aging vehicle that you have to feed for it to move around.

But when I first lost myself in the music, dancing, I felt very close to the Goddess. The music cocreated this dancing orgasm with me, moving my body up and about and finally letting it be all that it was meant to be: soft, sexy, sultry, daring, powerful, fluid, gentle, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, all at the same time.

The Goddess shone through me, making me a little more free.

Sofia Sundari, a tantrika whose blog I really like to follow, says: “I think every woman should dance, because what happens when she lets go to the music, is so beautiful.” I couldn’t agree more. Agreeing, I can’t skip the sharp pain in my heart. “Then why can’t I dance when I’m not alone?”

When the music calls to me, I remain petrified of what everyone else is going to think about me.

At the end of the day, the only think that’s important is how I think of me. Because what I think, I shall become. I am the only person who can do something about my life. And if I feel the need to dance to the beat of the drum but don’t go, because I am concerned about other people’s opinions of me, I betray my soul. The latter only craves to experience everything it can in order to come to know itself a little more, a little deeper, a little better. It always cultivates hunger for the everything, that each and every one of us hides within.  If we let ourselves be lived out of our soul, we make the world a better place. How do we do that?

We must lose face to find ourselves again. We must lose the shame to experience the bodily sensation that a certain move has in our body, we must lose control to experience an orgasm, and we must become nothing, so we can experience everything that we are. This reminds me of the depth in our relationships, something I’d been thinking over the last few days. The deeper we go, the more we have to lose all of the boxes that we’ve gladly put ourselves into. The closer we get to the essence of who we are, the more masks we give up.

Do I dare to look up now, after he’s seen me in a different light somehow?

I needn’t dare to look up, as I needn’t have put myself down after behaving in a certain way.

The only think that’s important is how I think of me at the end of the day.

floatingcastle

 

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