The dance

The dance

the dance

The dance we do with other people, the relating we take part in, has potential to be the most elegant and beautiful rendition of yoga in real life that exists; away from the solitary practice and into real-time, sixth-sensing, intuitively listening and responding.

Despite and in some cases because of, the fetters of self-doubt and unclaimed, long-abandoned emotional baggage still collecting dust in the psychic lockers, we bump gently and then roughly into each other, tripping into interactions that are rich in untidy communication, scribbly, sour, sweet and deep – the raw, the silky, the gentle, the humorous. Intensity calls us to be immersed in nowness. There is magic and power here. Shhhh to the thinking mind that constantly demands explanation, plans, excuses, delivers commentary, rhetoric – shhh. Quiet and feel.

Holding space for two beings, for a shared experience, true interaction – is dependent on trust. The intensity of sensation we trigger in each other relies on it. Internal gates are opened, flaws exposed, electrical circuits made live with charge – and the clarity – such clarity – if you can only stand the glare.

The interplay of two shows us where we get stuck: who stumbles, who falters, who is forceful and pushes too hard, who is rough and who retreats, who turns away and who is weak. We are witnessed at every step, twirling madly into dizziness – not only our own consciousness being illuminated but the sense of being observed and felt. The fear of being judged looms. As we are seen, we also see. As we feel we are also felt. To remember this…would that we could, but the realisation slips from our grasp like sand through an hourglass. Impossible to catch.

Can we stay?  Be here, without distraction, free – all the while present to the other and flowing towards and away from in time? As we do, so they do too. The dance. Flow.

Can we hold our balance, our centre and really meet the other? Can we be met, still, steady, equanimous?  Too soft and yielding and we are pushed around arbitrarily – lost, uneasy; too hard and resistant and we are banished from the exchange altogether, remaining alone, singular, with only the faintest sense of other at the periphery. Unchanged.

What is the meaning of our exchange without love, without prospect of loss? Where is the preciousness without these things? To open hearts, to summon courage to be changed, to understand and be understood. The rhythm of our steps, the echo of our movement, the exhilaration of such aliveness.  Why would we ever deny the exquisite vitality of earnest connection – this intimacy? What colourless world do we wish upon ourselves when we refuse to engage willingly and fully?

There are some things that cannot be done only halfway.

Don’t wait. Say it.

The beauty of two beings in flow – a visual metaphor.


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