I remembered, in my body, how it was

I've been back to the ecstatic dance twice now in the past few weeks. It had been several years. I first went in 2007 after getting a divorce and starting to let my life change in the direction it was drawn, that I wasn't controlling. Watching my beliefs blow away.

Yesterday at the dance, my arms slowly lifted to the sides and then all the way up over my head, not having a plan to do so, just gradually happening as I was aware, and I suddenly recalled living in a culture where no one raises their arms up over their heads in moments of simple freedom like that. There I was in a big room full of people, a social setting, and there was freedom in me and all around me for something as normal as raising my arms for no reason at all. Just because it felt good and seemed to want to happen so it did. This is not new for me these days in my life, but it was the remembering of when it became new that really impacted me.

I remembered, in my body, how it was before I started to explore the edges of the cultural norm. I think I was particularly locked in and watchful, trying to belong. Maybe I was just very aware of it. I'd had an early experience, around age 6, of something like near death or spontaneous loss of body sensation which lasted long enough for me to not know if I was alive or dead, but what I did know was that I was utterly safe, unbounded, without identity. And then I had to continue developing my sense of self and personality as kids do, having no context to place that loss of self experience. My religion was certainly not helpful or understanding. My religion was paltry and stupifying and boring in comparison to actual consciousness. It was not my religion.

But maybe I went extreme into the hard effort of holding onto myself after that, wondering how to define myself like we were supposed to be doing, and sometimes getting glimpses again of beyond this "normal" life we were all living together. I found it deadening, for sure, but I was committed to it. Where else was I going to go? So I lived in a world of people who were so convinced of their stories and it was maddening to my senses. My body was locked. All I could do was go running all day by myself, or go out on my bike and just ride and ride. Even as a dancer, choreography freaked me out. It broke eventually, or began breaking, and it hasn't stopped yet.

I don't think that my body is me, but I do know that it has become a good home, since I started to step to the side of the culture and let the unchecked flow of stodgy belief flow on by me.
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I remember one time I was in a contact improv workshop around 2008 or so and we were all lying on the floor in the big old and beautiful gymnasium on UT campus. We were lying on our backs with eyes closed, in that open field together, and the instructor said something very poignant. He said it is rare that people can be so safe around other people in our world. He mentioned the particular rarity for women and black men to just be able to rest on the ground, eyes closed, surrounded by other humans. I think I cried. It is profound to be becoming a safe person in our world. Safe to trust and move freely and safe for others to move freely around. To lift our arms up. Not guns. To lie on the earth with our eyes closed, breathing our heavy bodies.