Naked Under My Skin

Being Human is the Real Spiritual Practice.

Being Human is the Real Spiritual Practice.

Solitude. Intimate. Vulnerable. Humble. This is how I feel when I’m naked under my skin.

Naked Under My Skin

Yeah. Naked. Humanly Naked.ecstatic chakras

Last Sunday in Portland’s Ecstatic Dance, someone stood up and said

“I’m from Grass Valley California, and our dance is ‘the cool’ dance. You know you can’t dance ugly when you’re all caught up in looking cool. I feel so at home in my skin here in Portland. Thanks for dropping your shit, and being real today.”

I don’t show up to dance to be- anything. Not cool. Not happy, or nice or spiritual. I show up to be…human.

Okay. I suck at being human. Right? To get here to dance, driving, I cut in front of people. I passed homeless folks without giving them money or even eye contact. I drank coffee and ate chocolate grown in non-sustainable farms. My ‘doggy bag’ was put into a styro-foam container.

 

…I arrive at dance. Rattled. Just drove through traffic. Highways. Tunnels. Bridges. Noise in you to music againCars. Bicycles. Pedestrians. Dogs on leashes. Concrete. More concrete. I drank 2 shots of espresso. I’m wearing tight-clingy dance clothes. I drop on the dance floor.

Horizontal.

I sprawl flat and attempt to touch as much of my body from head to toe on the floor. My round skull feels lumpy. My bony protrusions-shoulder blades, elbows, hip bones and ankles feel extra large and it takes awhile for my body to let go. It’s like I am wearing a Fireman’s armor, and as I roll on the floor, I slowly shed it and maybe eventually I begin to feel my body touch the floor.

Sometimes someone else is rolling on the floor near me and I’ll roll over and join them in a contact dance. We’ll take turns smashing and rolling out each other’s crunchiness. One person is a rolling pin and the other person gets rolled flat like dough. 

I often feel compressed-from the inside. Literally I am crowded with sensation. contact Eugene Yahats 2013Even when I’m sitting still, inside I’m swirling. My mind is tossing and turning. My mental images might be strobing from all the visual input of my phone screen. My ears may be roaring from audio input-music, urban noise, recalling conversations and shouts of unsaid withholds to avoid conflict.

Then an ‘Angel’ appears and squeezes me. My outside is squeezed, like how my insides feel cramped. 

At first, I can barely gasp for air.  I die. The ‘old’ life is squeezed out of me. The agitated, eager, caffeinated part of me surrenders under the external pressure of human pressing human, and what remains is humble, vulnerable, naked human . I go from solitude to intimacy. Inside the hug- My heart beats with their heart. And then I have to let go. Present tense human pressing me flat-pushes out past tense survival skills. The ‘Now’ me dominates the old me.

The smush of body weight against the floor feels like a full body hug.

Now, let’s return to ‘ecstatic dance’.

ecstasy  Latin from Greek ekstasis ‘standing outside oneself’.  

Ecstatic Dance:  To move, flail in rhythmic motion, a spontaneous combustion of authenticity in human form.

To be an empathic, sensitive, authentic Human Being

demands discernment;

requires choosing responsibly;

feeds on doing service;

and produces compassion-

AFTER LOT’S OF DANCING.Ecstatic Dance August 2015

My greatest desire is that eventually, by the end of 90 minutes of sweating my prayers, I’ll become human again. Naked under my skin.

Vinn Marti -Arjuna, Father of Soul Motion says “Dance ugly and drool”. 

When I’m dancing, I feel my roots. Around my tail bone and between my legs, I feel energy.

My heart twinges, my skin tingles.

Energy enters me from the soles of my feet runs through the palms of my hands and blows out from the top of my head. And then energy enters me from the palms of my hands and dances out my feet. I am spontaneously combusting love.
picasso dancer

When I show up, my presence makes a difference. There is no doubt that my dance impacts my world.

Every breath ripples laughter in and out of me. Laughter moves me. Joy moves me. Gratitude blasts through my body like sonic waves. I am Boundless. I Defy gravity. Lyrical comes to me. I am danced.

Vibrating, purring. I hum. I am humble.

Titilated.  Every cell stimulated.

My skin wrapper is glittering.  

 

Being Human is the Real Spiritual Practice.

Solitude. Intimate. Vulnerable. Humble. This is how I feel when I’m naked under my skin.

 

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