Since being diagnosed with severe anxiety a few weeks ago, I’ve been on a mission to figure out how to cope, what my triggers are and basically how I can ensure this thing doesn’t dominate my life. One thing I know for sure is that movement has always been a healer for me. Luckily, as I work in fitness, I get to do that a lot. However, I am the one leading the class, or when I’m doing my own workouts, I am doing specific, set exercises, for specific, set amounts of time. I’ve been craving movement that feels freer, more loose-y goose-y, something that gives me the space to just shake the anxiety out of my body.
Enter: ecstatic dance.
As Google describes it, ecstatic dance is:
a freeform, un-choreographed dance practice where participants move to music as they feel led, aiming to achieve a state of ecstasy and connection through movement and music, often in a safe, sober, and judgment-free environment
I went to an ecstatic dance event over the weekend and can confirm, yup. It is all of those things and it is AWESOME.
While it is loose-y goose-y to the max, there are rules;
no cell phones
no talking on the dance floor
consent is key
Being in a space where everyone is fully present, without their face buried in a phone screen or filming every second is like some beautiful 90s nostalgia; a throwback to ye olden times, when we knew how to just enjoy a goddamn moment without feeling the need to ‘pics-or-it-didn’t-happen’ the situation or tag your location so your followers can know how cool you’re being.
No talking might seem like a weird rule, but honestly? A VIBE! Not having to make weird small talk or have someone screaming in your ear while you try to decipher what the hell they’re saying - truly glorious. You are free to be at one with the dance floor, committed to nothing but the beat.
And consent - because how do you ask for someone’s consent to dance if no words are being exchanged? It comes down to hand signals, apparently; if someone offers a dance by extending their hand out to you, putting your hand on theirs, palm up, means no, palm down, means yes and if you put your hands together in prayer and hold them to your chest that means ‘I just wanna vibe by myself.’ While you do see people grooving together a little, for the most part, people are just doing their own thing.
There’s also no alcohol at these events. I’m not a drinker, so that doesn’t really effect me but it made me realise how much I dislike being in places where people are drinking alcohol, particularly to excess. What struck me is how freeing it was to be able to dance and not feel objectified, not have to worry about some gross dude pressing his half-erect boner up against me while I rave. To remove the threat of alcohol-fuelled advances and unwanted touching while in an environment that is essentially a club, adds something that is hard to explain.
I went to this event alone. Not for one second did I feel self-conscious, or lonely, or crave the companionship of anyone there (though they all seemed lovely). I was both alone and in community, flying solo but in togetherness.
The music (a heady mix of chill/soulful house and afrobeats), gradually built from a cool, calm zone to a full out rave, from hips gently swaying to whole bodies jumping up and down, hands-in-the-air, waving-’em-like-you-just-don’t-care levels of expression.
I danced non-stop for two hours. I danced til I felt not-an-ounce of tension in my body. I danced with my eyes closed and a big, cheesy grin on my face. I danced as I felt heartbreak leave my body. I danced like my feet were made of joy. I danced for the version of me I’m trying to let go of and the one I’m trying to become. I danced like time could freeze forever in that moment.
I danced and I danced and I danced.
Until I felt free.
Love love love ❤️