Dance as Spiritual Practice (2004)
For many years, I sat at the foot of spiritual teachers, listening to ancient esoteric teachings. I was drawn to finding a spiritual practice that would further my development and help me alleviate the suffering inherent to my human condition.
I studied with Tibetan, Native American, Sufi and Zen teachers, as well as with various indigenous shamans from Africa and South America. All the teachings seemed to point to the same thing-life is a sort of a dream and there are ways to approach death with joy.
My sitting was often in the back of the room, as I struggle to assimilate the prayers, songs and sequences of the rituals. I knew my aspirations were genuine yet I felt little progress on the path. I reassured myself that the teachings and blessings of the teachers would be lodged deep within my consciousness to reemerge later in a future existence.
My mind was often very distracted as some of the practices, like in Buddhist Tantra, are done in group. My passion and desire often engulfed my whole mind as I attempted to hold the deity’s visualizations. I resisted doing all of the purification practices such as prostrations or recitations.
Many other newer students would excel and receive advance teachings while I kept a low profile in the back of the room. My Tibetan teachers often intimidated me even though they always displayed amazing patience and kindness with me. I felt so inadequate that I could not even ask any specific questions on the basic mediation practices.
I found solace in taking charge of the logistics of large rituals that literally required turning buildings into temples. Without my feeling useful in that capacity, I probably would have left the teachings much earlier.
That resistance went on for the better part of eight years while I studied with the late Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche, a renowned Tibetan meditation master and physician, and Lama Padma Gyatso, one of his main students, translator and ritual master.
In the meantime, I always danced. I attended every possible Pagan parade, Middle Eastern or African festival, and weekly community dances, as I always felt amazingly vibrant and happy while dancing amongst large crowds on the beat of live drums. I made it my “job” to always show up in wild garbs and delight the old and young alike with my antics.
Now that I have left the mediation hall and entered the dance hall, I realize that my quest for spirit never left me. I had to leave the teacher to encounter the teachings.
As I began to organize the Gypsie Nation dances and was traveling daily around the Big island of Hawai’i where I was facilitating six dances a week, the notions of spiritual practice and devotion came back to reveal their true meaning.
Before each dance, I was reminded, as if my teacher was inside, to reflect on my intentions for my dance-or practice. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche always gave a dissertation on motivation before each and every of his teachings and empowerments.
At the beginning of my Gypsie Nation adventure, I was grief stricken by a separation from my partner and the sudden death of my Mother. I was dancing to pray for my Mother’s auspicious rebirth, as well as to heal myself.
Everything from sweeping the floor, building the altar, picking flowers, buying food for an offering, or putting special clothes on for the dance took on a new meaning. I had entered spiritual practice through the intensity of my emotions. My life, and the liberation of my Mother, seemed to depend on my concentration and quality of intentions, as if I was approaching death (as taught in many, if not all ancient traditions).
Every dance became an opportunity to bring all of my “stuff” to the practice, and stuff I had! My anger, grief, sadness, disappointment, bitterness, resentment, abandonment and lust gave my dance the octane that fueled my practice.
Day after day, I re-entered the dance hall with humility and devotion-to myself, my Mother, the Earth and the community where the dance was taking place.
In that new spiritual practice, the dance became a radiant mirror to observe my mind, transform my emotions and generate bliss that I could dedicate for my Mother’s liberation.
That new practice had no teacher in human form to intimidate me. There was no right way to do it. I could not possibly mess-up. I could bring everything to the heart of the ritual and dissolve myself over and over again. In each of these mini deaths, I would tap into the abundance of energy and love that seem to permeate the whole Universe and dedicate these treasures to my Mother.
In these times of abundance in spiritual teachings and teachers, I believe that new hybrid environments need to be explored and tended to, so as to offer a joyous entry level for those seeking a connection with their soul. Places that again we can call temples, where the village and travelers come to celebrate the glory of life, and practice in devotion to the spirit of community.
Skywalker
March 2004
