I think there’s a reason we use the same word, “moving,” to refer to both a body in motion and something that touches our emotions.
I experienced this last night while doing contact improv – the supple connection, as my body, propelled by a cat-like sensuality, both moved and moved me.
By the way, the amazing dance class I took is called “Dance as Shamanic Ceremony,” taught by Zahava Griss (last night was the first of three free intros to the eight month long course).
For more information about this class and Zahava’s other work, see www.lovemakingdances.com
I’ve taken classes with Zahava for about five years. Calling them “dance classes” doesn’t do justice to the multidimensional, transformative nature of the experience – or maybe it’s what all dance classes are meant to be deep down, the soul within the steps.
As a brainy child, my body was foreign to me. I was constantly tripping and bumping into things, because my awareness was in my imagination, not in my physical form. Now, I’m much more comfortable in my own skin, and for me much of this embodiment of consciousness came from these dance meditations. I’ve been learning to trust the instinctive wisdom of bones and muscles, to let the movement come first and the thought follow it, instead of the other way around.
I notice that as a happy side effect of dancing, my mind is cleaner, my words clearer. The body keeps the brain honest. Dance and writing serve each other, because all good writing is an embodied experience.
How does movement affect your writing?