Rebelle Society

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dance

art

A Confession: What I Really Do in Public Restrooms.

Do you find yourself feeling half-spoken, half-heard or half-moved? Does your body heat up with energy like a premeditating volcano? Does your body have an empty space that howls with numbing wind? In what ways do unexpressed perceptions, translations and stories get locked in your body and  ...

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feminism

To My Sacred Sisters.

Travel to all the forgotten places. Dance naked beneath the shining starlight of your intuition. Rediscover the ancient mysteries drawn on the walls of your womb and the wisdom of the ever-changing scarlet tides of your blood. Step boldly into the long-suppressed fires of sacred anger, allowing  ...

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art

Dance: My Panacea of Choice.

Those of you reading this, totally unconvinced, who might never imagine walking into a dance studio, who have been telling yourself that you don’t know how to dance (in the absence of alcohol and over-based club music), you are the exact people who would find the greatest healing from this most  ...

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art

When Did We Lose Our Dreams?

You are always ready to dig deeper, to do that art project, to quit your job and go hiking for six months, to move across the country, to apologize to your beau, to call your estranged parent, to kiss your crush, to dance in public, to read your poems, to start that habit, to ask that person to  ...

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poetry

The Magic Hat. {poetry}

The path to the box was cluttered with dreams. Boxes of trophies, and thin skinny jeans. Also bags under eyes, and grandma’s old quilts And other reminders of all her past guilts.

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art

The Magic Of Music, My Lifelong Partner.

The seduction started when I was young, as Music asked me to come out of the darkness and dance. It didn’t take much to coax me out into the light. His song was sweet and his smile intriguing. He knew I was born to dance with life. He took me out of the darkness, exposing my vulnerabilities,  ...

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art

A Writer’s Dilemma: Do We Fear Balance?

When I asked my Ayurvedic practitioner if, once balanced, I would lose the ability to write, she assured me that, on the contrary, I would uncover a deeper story within, that of my true self emerging. That sounds nice to me. But, even if that doesn’t happen, even if I never write another word  ...

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art

Hot And Bothered By Passion.

In my dance of stillness, I discovered many layers of unprocessed grief. I lovingly held and witnessed myself while traversing through every single one of them. As I fed these layers of grief to the fire of transformation, I began to notice more spaciousness within me. In this spaciousness, it  ...

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