My fantasy that's persisted through decades is to dance with a number of enthusiastic co-conspirators. Fantasies aren’t reality? Who knew.
Soon after we moved to Portland, I witnessed a young woman, donning a headset, eyes shut, dancing alone. She moved without care to who might be watching. She danced in her own world, lacking selfconsciousness.
When she took a break, I approached her and complimented her dancing. She explained her practice as ecstatic dance, and told me of an ecstatic dance group that met every Sunday at another park.
Before Covid turned us into shut-ins, Gary and I went to local bars to dance. My husband danced with only me, but when his enthusiasm waned, was fine with me dancing with other men and women.
As the ecstatic dance event took place in the open air of a park, I could dance with others again. Gary would sit out but agreed to accompany me to the next Sunday event for this new dance experience.
My fantasy was that everyone there would love dancing as much as I do. Movement would override selfconscious thoughts, and participants would surrender to the experience. Some would try moves they saw others doing so they could experiment with the joy of moving in new ways. Some would move in unison to the rhythm of the music and to the rhythm of fellow dancers.
To my surprise, there were lots of rules for the dozens of us grown adults. Detailed instructions were given on how to be free and ecstatic. The leader's jargon was a retreat to the hippie era. Been there, done that.
After warming up for an interminable time, the participants were told to hold hands in a circle. The leader laid down the rules: no talking; this is how you approach a prospective partner; barefoot dancing encouraged; the flow of the music chosen and why. Finally, the DJ was introduced.
It was a large venue in a large park. However, unless you chose to carefully weave between dancers, it was best to define your movement space.
One participant defined her space with a king-sized blanket and perimeter within which none were to intrude. She chastised parents who allowed their children near her claimed space. Other “dancers” hung from rings on straps attached to park trees, swinging as they performed elaborate acrobatics. A few women danced topless. Off-leash dogs roamed freely throughout the group, and more than once, I almost fell over a dog that paused behind me.
All of this was in stark contrast to my expectations of ecstatic dance. Rather than unselfconscious and meditative movement, I witnessed performance and posturing. Most of these "ecstatic” dancers weren’t people to dance with, they were people to dance among.
It wasn't all disappointment. I observed parents with their uninhibited children. The youngest children were the shining stars because they danced without knowing they were stars. I saw the occasional dancer who wasn't putting on a show. It was delightful when someone visiting the park happened upon the group and joined in. They missed the rules ceremony so they innocently broke them. They clearly just loved to dance.
My dance fantasies have formed through years of dancing with others and dancing alone. The memories that inform my fantasies include dancing with high-school friends, with fellow students at college, with allies during my stint in local politics, with my husband and my children, and dancing as a child.
As meditation is letting go of thought to be present in the moment, ecstatic dance is letting go of pretense to be present in your body. I have yet to experience that with strangers.
I have known you for many years. I remember when you were calling all others to join you and dance and I was too self-conscious back then. And another decade, I began inviting people to my barn to dance, but then, we lived too far apart. I understand now what you were wanting. Create your own group of free dancers! They need you!