I turn away from these and toward my current veil puddling luxuriantly on the sofa. She is long and beautiful—a sunset I haven’t yet seen—of lavender and pinks with a golden edge. I love her. I love that she can open the inside of me with her shades and tender touch. I take her in my hands. So soft. I breathe and stand. My wan legs don’t want to pace around the rug, which is what they will have to do if I want this veil to float.

I toss her gently up. She slithers down to the ground, exhaling very, very slowly. She finally settles. Wanting to watch all that again, I bend and gather her and toss her and watch her respire. Gorgeous. Again. And this time I want her to unfurl so I toss her but don’t drop her. I let her billow. I wrap a wide arc of space in her skin. Soon she has seduced me into her world. My legs and feet have forgotten their clay and I am in the small sky that inhabits my NYC apartment. Air is always a morsel of sky, yes? Breath is always a morsel of sky.

She hypnotizes me. I forget the restlessness outside the Moment. We move together. We are calm, hanging in timelessness, hanging in a Moment. The middle world, where I swirl with my veil, is romantic. The middle world. The middle of the world. The center of the world. We pass through a large invisible door into that movie clip of two lovers at a cafe table holding hands consumed in one another.  We Know about mysteries. Otherness. Unity. The conversation bumbles and peters out, a soupçon of thought and feeling spicing a full serving of Other.

I look up from the Lover’s Eyes and gaze out the window at my mind. I enjoy my mind—lots of architecture, thoughts that divide and separate and sort, chip away and reconstruct. BUT…once I enter the Moment the room is too full for a mind so full of itself and out of its depth. Mysticism is not of the mind. Mysticism uses the mind in order to discard the mind. How hard it must be for the mind to accept this servitude. Mind thought it was ruler. The Moment is that part of being awake that goes beyond thought. I can’t sleep my way into the Moment. I have to wake my way into the Moment.

Here I am with my veil, in the Moment. My lungs fill with sky. The veil fills with sky.

After a while I lie down, my veil a sylph sleeping on my chest. She grows warm as she sleeps. My organs relax under her. My skin melts into the cloth covering it. I am in the Garden again, innocent, protected, at One. Even my often-separated body is at One.

Thank you for reading. More on Veil coming soon. Also Gravity & Breath.

Please…tell me your story of dancing with your veil…

Top photo of Alia Thabit by Dunya McPherson
Photo of Dunya by Paul B. Goode

Here is some of what I wrote in my journal afterwards: As I chant Ya Shafi an image of a crane forms in my mind. I am reminded if that day in August when I went canoeing early in the morning on the lake. The fog was so thick we couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of us. We kept the reeds of the shoreline to our left for a sense of direction. I was so scared, so fearful, so panicked even though it was so peaceful and quiet. And even though I knew the fog would lift in a short time and that we were in a lake, so there was no where to get lost to. We went around the bend where I thought the fog might have lifted already, but when it hadn’t my fear took over and we returned back until my feet were planted firmly on the safety of the shore.

After I am done with chanting, I look in my medicine book for the Crane, (only there is Blue Heron so I go with it). It says Blue Heron Self- Reflection “The power of knowing yourself by discovering your gifts and facing its challenges. It is the ability to accept all feeling and opinions without denying any emotion or thought.” It’s getting a little comical how may people/ways this message is getting repeated to me at this point in my life.

Still I feel such resistance. I feel like I’m on that lake. I *know* that I’m perfectly safe, that the experience of the fog lifting is wonderful, that there is no where to get lost to. But I still FEEL that same panic and fear, so I retreat to the solidness of my life. Despite myself, I somehow keep managing to show up at the doorway.

Mary Bond , ITCert* 
Honey. If honey could be a body sensation—warm, clear, sweet, smooth, golden, fluid. A sense of honey flowing out of my heart and throat and down my arms into my hands and fingers. With that, a sense of oneness with a myriad sweet beings everywhere, and that this sweetness is the Reality, the truth of what life Is. Each person or animal or rock or leaf contains this essence. I want the realization to never end. I want to bottle it and to Remember to sip often. To sip and sense it running down my arms imbuing every act with loving kindness.

I played the recording of the chant, knowing that hearing the voices would help me to focus. However staying with the recording made me breathe more rapidly than I ordinarily would when lying down. But when the chanting stopped, my resting breath became super slow and deep. I became fascinated with sensing the weight of my tongue, and then following that sensation down the gut tube, tuning in to various organs as they settled more deeply with exhalations. When thoughts intruded I felt my organs hover away from the earth. Does that incipient movement always accompany thought?

Writing this I can tap back into the honey-feeling, but only with gravity’s help. I must let my body spread and settle in order to make room for Love. If I’m hovering with thought, honey-truth becomes an abstraction.

Anastacia Kaser , CDMT**
Three of us gathered in my home studio this morning to practice while the sunlight streamed in the east window and space heaters ticked away warming the room.

We did some slow stretching and slow movement, then we did the Sha-fi practice with the breath while lying down. Then we wrote, moved, wrote, moved, wrote ~ all on our own timing. Then shared our experiences and writing. Some of the themes that emerged:

A soft, sweet, tender fluidity that percolated through tissues. “Sha” flowing into the body like a thin stream that widened and split off to become many rivulets, to create a wide delta of water and silt and mud. Moistening the hard bits. “Fi” sliding out of the body, softening softening. Amphibious movement low to the ground, rolling and spiraling and languid.

Diving deep, and then deeper, and then even deeper into this ocean, into the darkness. Releasing and processing there, and then floating to the surface, floating above the surface.

Releasing to gravity, feeling the pleasure of lying down and letting the body and fluids settle. Responding to the sweetness of the music and allowing tears to come.

* Intensive Training Certification
** Certified Dance Meditation Teacher

Under Shiva’s Gaze

Shiva graces our Dancing
As we enter the Great Temple of the Body.

Little do we know what will Unfold.
We just know we will be the Unfolding.

Flowing into Spontaneous Combustion,
I become Whole HOLY from the Dance.

And I taste the Freedom of Pure Bliss
Which is Love Incarnate.

My beautiful Earth Body becomes
Heaven on Earth.

My psychic aches and pains melt away
And there is only the Spaciousness of Becoming.

The Emptiness I have feared all my Life
Is now the Opening.

May I continue the Practice of Drinking
From the Sacred Chalice of my Longing for the Divine.

(c) 2011 Loretta Armer
November 15, 2011, Dancemeditation™ Spiritual Bellydance
at Kripalu Center for Yoga

Sanctuary

November 1  Dunya McPherson, Principal Teacher
Please describe in excruciating detail exactly where and when you do your daily practice. Where is the space? What time of day? What do you wear? What do you sit on? What music have you been using? How long have your practice sessions been? How many each week for the past two weeks?

November 1  Jessica Iscah Tkach Paquin
In the last two week I have practices 2-3x a week. I have a dance/meditation room. It has teal walls and big bright windows. I sit on a yoga mat and on top of that a blue and turqouise mirrored quilt I picked up in India. I use a round meditation pillow as well. I keep my journal by my side and little pink mole notebook that I use as my practice log. I have been either done it right away in the morning, right when I get home after work, or later in the evening. I like in the morning or late evening because I like the lighting better. I’ve gone for 20-45 minutes. I normally wear my pajamas or whatever work out clothes I’ve been in. I’ve only used two playlists “Amazing Eyes of Rita” and “Susurro” I have been using a free-flowing process instead of picking a structure before hand. This are some of the things I have done: Super slow opening sequence, sitting breath only meditation, yoga, extending slow hip circles, silent chanting Hayy, free dance, a lot of just laying and focusing of breath and music and where I feel it in my body. I have been very very slow the past two weeks. No rapid movements or funky dancing for me. I also count my yoga class, where I work on applying seamless concentration through out the class. This is actually a lunch-time work class with 4 other ladies in a dimmed out conference room.)

November 3 Teresa D Long Hawkes, CDMT
I do my practice first thing in the morning in my living room: fluid yoga. I wear loose, comfortable clothing. I sit on the living room carpet. I don’t use music. I put on inspiring stories I let roll in the background as I move. I move for 30-45 minutes. I do this 4-5 times per week. In the evening I do standing continuous flow. I do not use music. I just move from my front porch to my back porch and throughout the house. I wear loose comfortable clothing. I do this for 30-45 minutes 4-5 times per week. Then I have a long hot bath and let the sensations of the day roll through me and exit into the hot water. I have been doing this type of practice for the last three months. It keeps me alive.

November 7 Carleen Bevans
The move to New Mexico is finished, finally settling in. My room is full of light as there are windows on three sides. I am almost surrounded by light and Mother Nature being here high in the trees and mountains of Santa Fe ( a little snow now adds to the beauty). I have a small space where I put my yoga mat with my multi- colored quilt the floor has radiant heat. Sometimes I use no music and sometimes I use Zanzibar (one of my favorites) Staying connected to my breath I stretch slowly then gently move in to rocking my pelvis, feeling the soft waves gently awaken my body, exploring the many ways my body likes to rock. Chanting, clearing my thoughts so I can listen to what my body wants, how much it wants etc. My intent is to expand slowly as this has been an incredibly long, emotional and exciting part of my journey. The above practice has just started and I am curious as to where it will lead me, my body and mind. I practice three times a week for 35 minutes and will slowly get to five or six times a week as it is something that my body, mind and soul really desires. Oh, yes I wear loose comfortable clothing as I start work right after. I am hoping to add an evening time also. Still have a few major projects before I can feel truly settled in and have the time. It seems my part time job is really a little more than that  I am amazes at how close I feel to the earth, sky and all my surroundings…. life is delicious.

November 7 Anastacia Kaser, CDMT
Practice notes: I teach a weekly class on Wednesday evenings. It’s in a sweet little studio with sprung wood floors (my knees love that), gorgeous silk wedding kimonos hung on the walls (one in white brocade, one in black/white/red design with cranes), and relatively good lighting (could be a bit softer, but not bad). It’s clean – that’s super important. It’s run by an actor who uses the space for Suzuki method to train actors to use their bodies. It’s not a yoga studio, so there aren’t blankets and mats – we have to bring our own. The sound system is good, but the equipment and hook up for my iPod is at the wrong end of the studio – in terms of cardinal directions and my sense of geomancy + placement (Vaastu) – it’s in the southwest. If I want to set up at the “right” end of the studio (northeast), I have to bring my own speakers, which weigh a lot. So, I alternate between the two ends, depending on if I feel like toting the speakers. Class is supposed to start at 7, but there’s an unspoken agreement that we start at 7:15 to allow for one of the consistent attendees to get there from the BART station (public transit). She works in San Francisco and can’t make the earlier train. Then, we extend the end of class from the official 8:30 end time to 8:45/9:00. No one uses the space after us.

I start to think about the upcoming class way before Wednesday. I don’t make a class plan – or if I do I know that I most likely won’t follow it. But I like to start to think about the energies of the week. Is it a full moon? Have there been earthquakes? Has it been extra windy? All of that influences what I feel like would be good to do in DM class. What would feel good to me. It influences the music I’m drawn to when creating my playlist. Sometimes I wander about on iTunes looking for new music (or check out the titles/ artists that Alia is listing on her 40 day challenge site!). Sometimes I pull the songs into Garage Band to create new, longer, seamless tracks to play. I usually pull together the playlist on Tuesday night after work, since I don’t have too much time after work and before class on Wednesdays. On Wednesdays, I race home from work, strip out of the corporate/office gear and try to have time to lie down and let my energies settle a bit. Then I “suit up:” yoga pants and top or (current favs) loose/flow-y palazzo pants with an attached mini-skirt from sense.com. I re-assess the playlist, pack up blankets (for myself and an extra or two for those who forget), zills, beaded hip scarf, and maybe the speakers, and head out. The studio is very close to home, about a 5 minute drive. Which is good as I have maybe an hour between getting home and needing to arrive at the studio. I try to get to the space at least 15 minutes early (no one’s there) to warm up or air out the space depending on weather and to start to fill it with music.

People arrive, we check in a bit while waiting for the BART commuter to arrive, then get down to business. I almost always start sitting cross-legged and draw my energy In and Down, and extend my antennae to palpate the energy in the room, the energy of the music. I drop into a different state and feel myself start to move. Inhale. Exhale. We move, we rock, we lengthen, we contract, we expand, we lie down, we get up, we dance, we feel, we (hopefully) don’t think, we resolve, we settle, we cease moving. ??After class, I enjoy the “perfume” of the practice and then start to reflect on what worked well, what worked less well. ??And start to think about next Wednesday…. There’s a part of me that’s always in that studio.

November 7 Alia Thabit
My dance room is the south end of my house and has a 5-sided bay window, so it is bright and nice. A black love seat nestles in the bay with a blue-green Egyptian applique hanging over it. If facing that window, the entrance to the room is behind. On the left are wardrobes for all my costume stuff and another window; on the right are the stairs going up and a door to the outside. Further back are mirrors and more mirrors behind, next to the door. The dance space is about 10X12. It has sweet energy. There is a faded carpet on the floor, kind of soft warm pink, and the walls are very pale warm pink. The floor is painted pine boards. Theater lights hang from the ceiling. There are paintings and art work here and there and musical instruments, drums, nays, finger cymbals. It is only during this 45 day challenge that I have danced every day, so I have few rules other than at least 20 minutes, and lying on the floor breathing with the music counts. Recently I have begun adding in White Tara mantras and Bodhisattva vows that I have not said in years, mixed in with Sufi chants (usually fah-ti, sha-fi, and al ilaha ilallah)–plus have been working with moldavite so that affirmation as well. Quite the hodgepodge, but I am very happy with it, and very pleased to be saying the refuge prayers and all again, and have them appear so effortlessly. Anastacia’s post above reminded me about the perfume. I mostly end up dancing at night, like tonight. I want to extend the practice. My vision is a morning of dance, playing music, and writing, but I am grateful to be doing what I am, and i am grateful for the requirement to do the practice, because I would probably not be doing this without it. Thank you.

November 8  Andrea McCullough
just about everyday, usually in the early morning between 5:30-6:30, wearing green rubber boots two sizes too big and multiple layers of wool, i slip and slide down a steep narrow winding muddy path, groping my way through wet douglas fir tree branches guided by a flash light and a few solar lanterns sticking out of the ground. it’s dark and cold and damp in the circular cabin, 16 feet in diameter with 2 small upper windows, like black eyes seeing nothing; feels like you’ve entered an underground world in a fairy realm. It’s very quiet…..until i turn on the electric heater which blows hot dry air. i turn a dim light on at first so i can find the cd player and then turn the lights off again. the carpet is a tibetan wool throw rug, with cream, rose and grey colors, lotus patterns repeating themselves, thick and rough to touch. almost big enough do full body rolls a couple of times in either direction without falling onto the wooden floor. i always begin by aligning my breath with movement happening in my body and just let That take over. the felt sense of my body is strong, i don’t feel much emotion these days, just go into Presence mode quickly and let the Stillness come whenever it wants, buzzing and boring its way through my brain until i feel at ease. for music, alternating between amazing eyes, sussuro, astrakan cafe, hic, new moon, mirrors. often step out of the cabin door with some reluctance– no matter how long or short the session is, it feels as if i were dangerously walking away from life source. notice feeling more connected, whole and alive. thank the time and the space before i go.

November 10 Mary Bond
Today, “Desert Blues”. It was perfect–from the first invocative, plaintive call, to American funk and dignified Spanish rhythms. Permission to express Everything, to shape shift–to rebel, to mourn, to be grateful. And to keep going, keep moving, keep breathing, no matter what. I begin in my bodywork room which has a peaceful ambiance—blues and greys and morning light—mostly because it’s carpeted and kinder to my morning feet. But there isn’t a lot of space to move. I usually wear a pale yellow chemise under layers in case the movement heats up. Pajama bottoms or yoga pants, depending on the time of day. Today I had to get out of there though—not enough room for the funk. My living room window looks out through the upper branches of an oak. There’s a Chinese carpet, rose tones with animal figures in green, mock Mission style chairs, and more room for storming around. But that’s Desert Blues. Susurro and Rita take me on entirely different tangents. So, dance med like that maybe twice a week for an hour. Other days I simply can’t stay inside, so I walk my neighborhood for 40 minutes, streets of increasingly less modest homes the farther north of the main drag I climb. After the recent rains, and with the more southerly sun of Fall, sights are clean-edged, dimensional. Some days I chant the whole way–Ya Sha Fi mostly. When random thoughts intrude I change the rhythm or pace of the sounds. Two or 3 of such walks each week. Though yesterday, I couldn’t summon the discipline–too tired to do anything but walk and feel grateful for the scenery, for the ability to walk, for a morning in which I was not committed and didn’t have to cope. Eventually, though, a chant emerged out of my footsteps—Hayy, hayy! It seemed like confirmation, that for that day, not practicing was my practice.

November 10 Dee Powers
Thanks everyone for sharing so beautifully – My practice is very flexible & eclectic. Some days I am solitary & quiet. On these days I am in my bedroom on either a sheepskin or blanket – Soft velvety clothing is a must. The music is usually slow and sensuous or a chant cd. My movement is usually very slow – I love to touch in with every cell that I can. Slow, and very deliberate are my movements on this type of day. On other days I do my practice at the gym while doing a weight program. On this day the music is usually rock & roll classics. Great fun – The movement is still slow and very cellular. My abdominal strength really improved from this practice.I have also been able to let go of my inhibitions re: being who I am even while at the gym. The slowness of the movements has increased my strength. The gym is very bright with lots of windows – it has just been repainted in a very interesting color scheme. Blood red walls with random black painted splotches of color – very progressive for this little Maine community – The atmosphere energizes me. Most days my practice continues for about 45 min to 1 hour. I also love to do this practice in the evening with candles & latin music – energizing & sensual – I am seeming to live this way more & more as opposed to scheduling a practice time – Even during an invigorating Zumba workout , I have been able to go into & be in my fluid body – I love Dancemeditation & all it brings me.

November 20 Joanna Shellenberger
I still haven’t settled into a daily practice. Lately I’ve been thinking about my lack of discipline and fear of committing my time to a schedule. I’ve been exploring this in a more questing kind of way rather than making a judgment on it. Trying to look at what is blocking me at the moment. I see the upside of an open schedule as I can indulge my creativity in the moment of inspiration. I can have a 20 min practice or a 2 hour one, and be completely engaged in the activity. But the downside is I’m not attending to practice daily and just not getting enough time in. I’m not letting it just be. I am working on a goal to do 20-30 mins., 3-4 times a week and then leave an open morning on the weekend for at least 30 minutes but it can go as far as I feel. I usually practice in the evening during the week as I like moving in candle light and feel less distracted in the dark. On the weekends I like to dance in the morning since my space is bright, golden and sunny. There seems to be a natural flow to this arrangement and has its own balancing of light and dark, shorter time and expanded time. It looks less chaotic now that I am writing it down. Also, this use to be my practice schedule in my old life at my previous apartment, so it would be good to get it back.

My practice over the last two weeks has been just 2 sessions of a 2hr. dance jam in each one. I’ve been drawn to the idea of using music and lyrics to express what I am feeling in the moment. Dancing as a storyteller. One song I’m working on is ‘It’s Amazing’ by Jem, a positive, empowering song that also brings a lot of gratitude for the ups and downs of my journey, my current transformation. I’ve also been listening to this N.African desert blues group called Tinariwen, their current album Tassili feels right at home with my practice.??Dunya, When you spoke about seamless concentration at the last SMM you mentioned a student of yours that has brought the energy of Dancemeditation into her job, into the world, into other aspects of her life. That conversation has really stayed with me and I see it happening naturally in my own life. I find myself going back to my breath and tuning in to where my body is in the moment. This sensation comes to me often through out the day.. at work, in class, at home, while I’m out with friends or alone. Again so simple but I feel really grounded with it.??So my space is small but lovely. I live in a tiny studio but most of my furniture can be moved to fit the activity for the day. Plus I have high ceilings so I can do veil work. But my day to day spot is right next to my bed in front of a marble fire place (I’m enclosing a picture). I’m finding with less apartment space, that I actually appreciate what space I have and want to make it beautiful and the most functional. Oh I wear pajamas or whatever exercise and/or belly dance wear I have handy. As you could probably guess, it just depends on my mood for the day.

November 21 Sandi Longhurst
A few weeks ago something shifted in my morning practice, I had several weeks of nightmares and did more yoga practice to build up strength and be in community while processing. DM practice was small pieces around the edges, mostly playing with letting my spine unwind both standing and resting on the floor, some really luxurious releasing. A lot of tears including sobbing in the hallway at the yoga studio while two teachers held me and let it process. My dreams have shifted to tender romantic desire. Tentatively back to a full practice. Gayla – the beautiful pink hoody from retreat has been my companion in this.

November 21 Aliandra Starre
My practice takes place on a blue Mexican blanket over a blue yoga mat, on a blue, soft red and white Chinese rug. I have to move some furniture out of the way to make enough space. This morning I listened to Bayat Turk. I felt some sadness or longing as I moved, it is probably because I miss being with a group after Kripalu, and also there’s some sort of love/longing for and with the internal aspect of my body. The impulses it has to slowly stretch into movement with the breath.?I always do some sort of opening sequence for at least 20 minutes and then usually some rocking. I’m always on the floor if it’s daytime, because I don’t want people seeing me through the window and I don’t want to make it all dark by drawing the curtains. I’m attempting 3-4 times a week at this point. Sometimes it’s at night but I’m more likely to do it in the morning. It’s not as easy to go really deep when I’m by myself, but after this morning, at least, I still feel a fuzzy contentedness.

November 23 Elizabeth Abbene, CDMT
I sit in my favorite room and look out at the pond blanketed with the season’s first snow; Accoustic Arabia is wafting from the ipod dock. I’m working with beautifully raw material today, silken fiber curls tightly interlocked, freshly cut and shampooed. I position one comb on my lap, one in hand and begin to stroke the curls, encouraging their fibers to line up in one direction so whirling will be smooth, effortless, seemless. One might think I am preparing for a luscious Dancemeditation session, but I will confess, I am cultivating a relationship of the most intimate sort. It is that kind of relationship that evokes true change, the kind of change that is self-initiated and lasting; the kind of change that has more chance of happening in a relationship that doesn’t hide its shortcomings… I’m spinning wool into yarn.?The wool has been gently washed in warm, sudsy water, but much of the natural lanolin remains and transfers to my hands as I untangle the locks. Flecks of grass and other plant matter that have taken refuge in the woolen curls and are revealed as I begin to spin. I treddle slowly enough to be able to pick out any errant organic matter I come across, but there is something about those impurities that I am fond of, so I leave them in. I am careful to make appopriate adjustments that will allow for an evenly filled spool. As I spin images arise and inspire, so I incorporate other fibers or pearls or glass beads into the wool, transforming it into art yarn.The wheel spins at the volume of a whisper. My movement, my breath, my concentration is seemless, I am enjoying a luscious Dancemeditation session…of sorts.

November 29 Gayla Reilly, CDMT
My practice today lead me to my purple yoga mat covered with a rose patterned blanket that a friends mother made. I wanted to feel the hands of her hard work during my practice and make a connection to her. I selected Kerala Dream for my music. I streamed it through my i-tunes in my computer out my apple airport that creates a wireless sound system in my home. It is wonderful. I decided to practice in my living room which is a large room however, I never did leave my mat. As the music began I slowly rocked and stop…and repeat this for a short time. I rolled over to my side and rocked more and rested a bit. I came to a spot where I sat up and engulfed myself with several silk veils. I massaged my feet as the music played in the back ground and the veils smooth my rough cold feet. I wrapped my feet in the veils and also wrapped the rest of my seated position in veils…over my head…around my waist…across my back and began my movement by swaying back in forth, around in circles and side to side. I continue this portion of my practice until the music stopped. I finished off by chatting Ya Shafi and rested to Suzanne Teng.

November 29  Dunya McPherson, Principal Teacher
I am loving the collage forming in my mind of the practice that you each describe. It makes a painting in space of our school and our practicing group. The details are magnificent. As well, they are grounding. The details also give me a sense of each individual and her world. By relating the circumstances of your practice, I perceive that there is in fact a practice happening. Thank you for your true and beautiful efforts.

If you’ve been to retreats, practice Dancemeditation, and want to join our practice group conversation on FB, please let me know. Thanks ~ Dunya

Why is personal practice so important? A naf would whisper in our heads that it isn’t, that we are fine without our practice. Go ahead, eat that donut, crap out in front of internet TV, FB the evening away…But practice is solace to our pain. In practice, we recall and re-experience crucial learnings from retreat training periods together. We bring the group, the teachings and the teacher into our daily flow.

At Dancemeditation retreat, we learn many teachings. One core teaching is to approach ourself without tyranny. We practice steady, centered, calm self-witnesses. We move and breathe and chant and explore with a generous dose of compassion for our selves and our small human predicaments. We learn to know we are safe, that we can trust. Our training time is the act of taking our young terrified selves by the metaphorical hand and being the good parent, the good guide, the nurturer, healer, loving deity, the Lover. We  work to become not only the person riddled with darkness but also the person who knows that these darknesses will pass and that we will be okay, that we are fine, that we are lovable and Beloved. When we return home and do daily practice, we integrate the depth of experience we’ve initiated during retreat. In daily practice, we continue to knead the compassionate space we have learned into our flesh.

A practitioner of a Path is one who practices the practices of the Path, but it isn’t just practicing that makes the practitioner. It is also knowing, and remembering why practices are being done. A Path is an awakening. A transformation. Blind adherence is not enough. We need also to turn willingly into the awakening.

When you resist practice, you stand on that threshold. Your foot is lifting to step. Will you crossover? Will you wake? Pat the naf on the head and step in.

DUNYA-Spiritual Dance Guild Inteview 5/19/11

I swung my head and I wasn’t lost in a trance, I was screaming a big body scream against having to be pretty, stupid, servant-like. You name it. All the things feminism was releasing me into. When I shimmied, I worked up to being a motor that was past alluring. It was a hard driver. It was earthquake. I might plow around the stage or restaurant aisles, smiling, but I was a snake. I had poison fangs. If you handle me wrong, I’ll kill you.

I found belly dance vocabulary perfect for rage. Before, as a modern dancer, the movement choices were too abstract, too huge or spatial. I could storm around, slicing the air. I could stand rigid. I couldn’t reve up. I really wanted a catharsis and there it was in belly dance, built right in.  Belly dance allowed me to get underneath my rage into my power. All women need this, but particularly my generation who lived on the cusp. Those of us birthed and raised in the conservative 50′s had to fight the repression inculcated in us in early childhood. Militant feminism of the 60′s and 70′s was in full swing. We really couldn’t become housewives. Like it or not, women’s roles were changing and we had to go forward. In my head I wanted this, but inside, I’d been raised to be ‘less than’ a man, to obey. Modern dance was all political posturing, very intellectual, and still very proper. It didn’t allow catharsis and it didn’t get right into the sexual crux of gender inequality. Belly dance let rage and frustration out of my system. Beautifully. Dangerously.

I loved that the costume was heavy. The beads weighed a lot and this seemed to hold me down, to keep me from spinning off and splatting into the walls or all over the patrons. I also loved that the costume, with its revealing-ness and sensuality, gave an initial illusion of female availability. I could be a big, horrible trick. A set up. Or I could back off and smile, waiting behind the costume’s typical assumptions for a good moment to strike.

So there were three options:
~ Follow my body.
~ After checking Google to to learn that I should see if my pupils are unevenly sized (they weren’t — a good thing), I could  go to the hospital emergency room where I would sit for a few hours under fluorescent lights
~ I could ignore it, push on, then wonder days later, why I feel wonky-blinky

I did the first. I lay on the floor and — this is why I’m sharing this tale — my body did not want to rock. She went right into that slow roll we did one day in Summer Movement Monastery. My skull rolled very slowly along the floor into gravity, the cervical spine quietly extending  and realigning. From time to time my spine wanted to gently twist rather than extend and contract, the head blow having come at an angle. My spine unwound. My cerebrospinal fluid had a chance to distribute itself (I could actually feel this pulse underneath the top layer of sensation), and whatever chemistry was happening inside my cranium could stabilize.

Nausea subsided. The light-headedness and weirdness around my eye sockets muted. I sat up, gently. All those sensations rose then subsided as well. Mostly.

I move around delicately. Keeping an eye on things, I lie down from time to time and let my body do what she needs. It brings me immediately back to the acute level of awareness I cultivated during retreat. Why does it take a blow on the head to get there?

To change anything takes practice. Addictions — they’re bad habits. Very bad. Beyond our reach, we say to ourselves. Beyond our will power. Breaking them takes more than wishful thinking, more than a few days of intentionality. If you’re hooked on addictive substances, you’re dug in deep; you need a 12-step or more. But if you’re in a self-destructive rut, retreat works.

One part of Summer Movement Monastery is training out of self-destructive habits.  The body needs time and repetition — more than once or twice. Two weeks of preparing and eating cleansing food isn’t only a yearly retreat clean-out; it’s a springboard to taking care of oneself by preparing and eating good food daily throughout the year. Two weeks gives our bodies enough time to retain the new experience, to develop a comfort with it, and a preference for it.

Amazing to think that many of us live on crap, dead food, predominantly cooked by slave labor of others, but we’re so busy, etc., blah-blah-blah. At Summer Movement Monastery, we get rid of blah-blah-blah for two weeks. We prepare and eat good food, envision how we will implement this at home, then prioritize this action.

We also practice Dancemeditation. Why didn’t I say this first? Because its more obvious. We know we are in session 7 hours a day, and we can imagine, or know from experience in other retreats, that we retain a craving, at least for a while, to do practice at home.

The most important thing about the 7 hours of Dancemeditation daily in retreat  is what I call the Operation. Our time in retreat makes a permanent spiritual change. After, we return to our world in a changed condition. Yes, it’s possible to forget that this happened, possible to bury the change under dark choices, but why? A Path has called us. All we have to do is open to it, spend time with the Guide and group, and then not forget. Retreat is a spiritual rip in time. We enter Timeless Time concerned with our spiritual evolution. Permanent change — the Operation — happens because our Deepest Being needs Communion with the Deep, All-Pervasive Subtle. We need what is beyond the daily world of cars and screens and din.

There is plenty of discourse about whether or not a Path should be socially useful. Should spirituality be politically active to be relevant? Are our choices to make a better world a result of how evolved we are? Is positive change possible, and can we even effect positive change without changing our condition? Or is the world a mirage and all that matters is the internal spiritual struggle? Does activism distract from spiritual path?

No matter how you consider your own role in the world, or the role of spiritual path in your life,  retreat is where the most accelerated growth happens. Looking at retreat from the most mundane perspective regardless of your philosophical stance, cultivating positive habits is, at the very least, good for you and  the world.

Sufi Master, Maneri, has said of subtlety. “Being the most subtle, the Divine must permeate all, for the greater the subtlety, the greater the quality of permeation.”

We can enter the perception of subtlety by treading along the path of breath into deep interior meditative states where the Ego-self ceases to dominate, and where “I”-ness fades. When our ‘story’ — riddled with competitive-ness, arrogance, complaining, resentment, grasping, envy, self-criticism, rage, and other destructive qualities — still binds our awareness, subtlety will not appear. Subtlety is delicate, a wild creature that skirts danger.

Yet subtlety is powerful. It can sweep us away from our repetitive, redundant small self into our Essence.

Subtlety cannot be muscled into being, yet without a sincere invitation, it will not appear. The door to subtlety is sincerity. The door is willingness. Only the heart of one’s heart can offer a sincere invitation.

Breathing must, of course, be awake, not mechanical. And beyond that, as we breathe, we must let the heart of our heart offer a sincere invitation. We must be willing to give up what we think we are, willing to be lost in intimacy.