Dancing Love. {poetry}
{source}
Dance is like floss, sweeping between and through my joint spaces and bones, creating space where there was accumulation and sorrow.
The aches become less urgent, spaciousness is a welcome sensation.
Continuity, fluidity, rhythm. Extension.
How moving in a slightly different direction can capture my attention, move a proverbial mountain that would otherwise remain for lifetimes.
I dance for me.
It moves my aching back, clears cobwebs, opens the portals.
To move in a way I’ve never moved before is a revolution! A direction other than forward, linear; walk, walk, reach, bend, hold the steering wheel.
Angles and arches reveal infinite shapes.
Stomping generates sound and vibration.
I lengthen, become taller, more hollow, s p a c i o u s. There is an opportunity there.
Density is stuffy.
I dance to express something with my entire body — my whole being; to express Love; to shake off some pain; to reveal a smile. Create momentum. Stretch beyond what I think I can. To share what I can’t find words for.
When I dance, I can see myself in my mind’s eye, being graceful, in command, bathed in evening sun; aligned with the universe and confident in my intention to share Light, Joy, Love of Dance, Nature, Humanity.
I am extraordinary.
I can imagine that. I can be that. An extraordinary vessel that can inspire.
I stretch myself and still feel confident; know that the unknown is an opportunity not to be feared. If I can move in this interesting and uncharted way, perhaps I can reach into the world in unexpected ways without fear.
Perhaps the ache in my hips and my back, rather than holding me back, can transform. And that ache in my heart that haunts me since I was small. I can stretch, jiggle, and slide.
Those aches and doubts and tragedies, small and large, can be transformed into watery spirals, and soar in a new rhythmical symphony of possibility — informing but not imposing. Memories stuck but then set free become inspiration; reasons to change.
What a gift to be able to see myself as a collaborative cellular community imbued with infinite divine possibility, rather than a finite and unfortunate structure, like a box! A closed space.
What does it mean to see myself as a closed space? In a closed space? Finite? To identify with my pain? To perceive confinement?
How movement transforms my cellular structure, and my thinking, is curious to me.
Is dance necessarily a state of being out of control? Like a spectacular tantrum. Fleshy and sweaty. Beams of essential light bursting through pores and eyeballs.
Or flawless syncopation; a cellular symphony of atomic vibrations that conveys the sincerest and sweetest expression of humanness? Is control a necessary part of that? May dance be an opportunity to transcend control? To touch my greatest, most ethereal potential, the most sensual and spectacular, like Wow! Is this even real? Is this even possible?
Expansion. Compassion. Connection. Love. Human synergy.
I think I just saw God, if even from a distance, a brief glimpse.
That God is me.
That Goddess is my dance.
God and Goddess dance in me, and gave me dance in order that I may excel and express the best aspects of me beyond measure.
What does that mean, to see beyond myself? Beyond my limited worldview? I can expand myself with rhythmical feet, long arms that explore possible trajectories in infinite pathways. I can expand in expression, emit compassion. Embody Love. Self-confidence. Self-knowledge.
Those tiny little stubborn bits within me that adhere for dear life: “Leave me alone,” “Let me be,” “Let me hide here forever.”
That is what dance can liberate. And this is the beginning of transformation.
Dancing every day is good. I will do it until I die.
Dance every day. Dance every day. Dance every day.
I am forgetful.
Dance on the train. Dance when I’m sitting in a chair. Dance when I am in conversation. Dance when I am alone. Dance when I am snuggling with my dog. Dance when I am feeling sexual — allow sexuality to live in me, to move me, to sparkle and grow and animate my dance.
To dance without shame.
That dance that happens in every minute of every day, if I let it. Dance even in my dreams. Sensing, surrendering, being moved. This is dancing. This I will do every day.
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Jennifer Moiles is a fierce feminine soul, activist and healer with insatiable curiosity about the world, the Divine Feminine, and the power of touch and human connection. A licensed acupuncturist in the state of California, currently living in the Netherlands, she writes to heal herself. Through dance, writing, and art, she has learned to channel emotional energy in a productive way, and uses her art to acknowledge and affirm her inner voice. She shares her truth with the intention of encouraging meaningful conversations, safety in vulnerability, and ultimately a more compassionate and peaceful world. She hosts monthly Red Tent gatherings in Eindhoven, Netherlands, travels regularly as an active member and volunteer with Acupuncturists Without Borders, and writes a blog at Heart, Womb and Soul.
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