When the Dance Feels Heavy: A Practice in Presence
On Sundays, I go to ecstatic dance. It’s a practice that helps me move energy, drop into my body, access a meditative state, build confidence, find community—and so much more.
Lately, it’s been a space for exploring my feelings of helplessness.
I’ve lost count of how many times the line “we will dance again” has echoed in my head while dancing in a post-October 7th world.
Sometimes, my intention is to release the stress and anxiety that weigh on my body.
Sometimes, it’s to give myself space to feel—to witness what I suppress in a trade-off that allows me to carry on.
Most times, I intend to dance with utter abandon—to dance for those who no longer can. To honor those who died dancing at the Nova music festival.
This week, despite my best intentions, my dance felt heavy and awkward. I sat outside the dance floor, feeling the sun's rays on my skin, the contrast of its heat with the cold, poured concrete bench beneath me. I felt the beat, but I couldn’t find my rhythm or intuitive movement. I was acutely aware of the very different experience I was having from those moving around me.
And, damn—isn’t that how it’s been for 491 days now?
How rare it’s become to feel entirely present.
How rare it’s become to feel unbridled joy.
How rare it’s become to feel truly at ease around others.
All I could do today was close my eyes, feel my breath and the beat in my body, and give dancing another try.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The lesson of my dance today is the same recipe for presence. The same foundation for meditation:
Pause.
Breathe.
Try again.
If you could use a little more calm right now, I’m offering my Mindful Mondays meditation class for free for the next few weeks. It’s one small thing I can do to help us through these turbulent times.
✨ Click the link in my bio to sign up.
