Little Gypsy Dancing Feet


Oh the ecstasy. Can you not feel it? I LOVE this photo. I wish I knew to whom it belonged but I found it on the internet and it were all by itself. This, to me, epitomises the wonderousness of dance. The pulse of spirit pleasuring the body in pure movement. The sheer delight of allowing oneself to be moved by spirit, shaped by heart and sung into being by the Beloved. I LOVE dance. I may have mentioned before that I have a background in dance and that there is a part of me (what am I? A Terry’s chocolate orange? So many ‘parts’…) that longs every day to pray in that way. I know. I know. Why don’t I? I don’t honestly know. Perhaps it is that I feel that I cannot do justice to it. That I have not the form nor the grace that I once possessed. But we both know that those are simply excuses to not allow myself to be embodied, to be possessed by the spirit of the dance and to dance my prayers once again.

Still – that urge grips me now as I sit at my computer. (Dance you idiot! Don’t type!). I can feel my soul unfurling, probing, reaching towards the light, the melody, the bass. Pushing me to arch, to twirl, to (shock! horror!) gyrate! Oh ma goodness – somebody pass me the smelling salts…

* The delectable Rachel Brice

To me there is something awe inspiring about this connection to the dance that dances us. You can feel the heat of divine possession radiating off the dancers in these two photos. It makes me feel restless and edgy and I want…I want…I want. To be them. To cut some rug, to throw some shapes, to plunge into the warm waters of senseless shapeshifting dance.

And so – tomorrow I am away to tickle my spirit with exactly that. For two blissful hours I will leave my habitual life and step into my prayers with a full heart and an overflowing body. I will give myself over to nothing less than an act of worship as I allow my spirit to answer the call that throbs through me tonight. It will be heavenly. It will be vulnerable. It will be delicious.


Laughter will bubble up from dark places. Dusty corners will be swept. Tight muscles will be freed. My confetti heart will be thrown up into the air in wild abandon and I will not care where the pieces land. It will not matter. There is only to dance and be danced. I think this is truly where I touch God. Maybe stillness is not for me, not until I have truly let myself be moved? Certainly, Osho believed that the western monkey mind cannot find peace until it has first expended itself in movement. Hence his Kundalini meditations which begin with movement and end in stillness. I cannot fathom why I do not do this more.

Music has a powerful effect on me, as I’m sure it does on many people. Depending on the music I can be playful, dark, sensual, ecstatic, humorous, teasing, tribal, fanciful or powerfully erotic. When the hubble and I tapped into our inner God and Goddess during our Tantra journey (you dance for each other for 20 minutes each – argh!), I found a powerful place within me and a deeply, achingly vulnerable one. I had never before shown myself in this way to another human being. It was intense and moving to watch and to be watched. It tore down, if only temporarily, some high, thick walls inside me to allow my beloved man to see me in this way. I cried. And contrary to expectations, there was something so awe inspiring about being able to watch him dance for me, without judgement, without teasing, and to just appreciate the beauty and the vulnerability of this supremely intimate offering of love. I cried again. As terrifying as it may feel to do this for one another, I recommend that everyone have a go. It took us to places neither one of us had been before and indeed, may never go again.

And so, I look forward to exploring music with my mind, body and soul tomorrow. I look forward with sharp anticipation to the moment when I can surrender to sound and allow myself to disappear into the notes. Perhaps I will emerge a different shape, become a different melody. Or perhaps I will simply ‘become’ myself once again.

And what tremendous freedom there will be in that my friends.

Dancing is the loftiest, the most moving, the most beautiful of the arts, because it is no mere translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself. ~by Havelock Ellis

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5 thoughts on “Little Gypsy Dancing Feet

  1. To be watched dancing and to watch your beloved dancing…being vulnerable, stripped of all formality and dignity…hmm, sounds suspiciously like falling in love to me.I still recall your post of dancing naked just for you and how that must feel. To feel wild and ungovernable, to be utterly of oneself regardless. Much of what we do is based on how we are seen by others – that was without that regard. Not giving a damn but enjoying the music.For my part, I don't dance. It reminds me too much of my own body, my physicality, which I have never been comfortable with. If I could live without my body I would do. I like to watch flamenco, I have watched it more than once. But I wouldn't dare to try it.Which is why I write instead, that is about the mind, the imagination and the heart. It has its own courage, but it is not the same as dancing.Every day, in every way, you get more admirable, more full of courage and yet sometimes you don't even see it. But you are.

  2. Thank you Griffin for your sweet words. It is very hard to release oneself from the prison of the mind to experience the freedom of the body and through it, the music. For you I say, dance anyway. We are none of us as comfortable with our bodies as we would like but the beloved loves and fills us no matter how chipped the cup. Flamenco is heavenly – as is tango – oh the fiery passion.

  3. "For you I say, dance anyway. We are none of us as comfortable with our bodies as we would like but the beloved loves and fills us no matter how chipped the cup."Right ho. The Beatles are on the radio, so I may well get up and er, dance to a song that was a hit before your mother was born!

  4. Wow. What an amazing journey you're on! I, too, am on a similar journey. Though I bring no background in dance and only two left feet, I am taking an African Dance class. Oh, yeah, accompanying the two left feet are The Intellect and The Critic. I want to henna the word courage on one arm and vitality on the other and leave The Intellect and The Critic at home next time. It is a surrender and vulnerability that I am not accustomed to.Your words are sooo beautiful here. They give me courage. I may not be dancing for my husband for twenty minutes (yet), but how utterly beyond words awesome!!!thank you

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