In August of this year, 2025, I gifted myself two weeks of deep presence with myself, my movement practice, and other practitioners in a dance facilitator training in Valencia. I expected to dance until I couldn’t dance anymore. I expected my back to complain after twelve hours of nonstop movement, as it often does. I expected the heady mix of music, awareness, and organic, creative connection to transcend those physical limitations.
The thing that surprised me was neither the content, nor the intensity, nor my peers, all of which met expectations in the best of ways.
No, what surprised me were the complex emotions—desire, grief, yearning, ebullience—and reflections that arose, awakening with my skin and my heart in dance.
So much moved alongside and through my body’s movement.
This short story is one of the parables that arose. It speaks to the wild, searching thing that comes to life when we set the body free on the dance floor. Or it does for me, anyway.
You can find the written version of this poem-story published at Women of the Wick. And while you’re there, check out some of the amazing writers and artists they’ve published.
I’ve had the privilege of working on some of those pieces as editor and would love to direct your attention to this fantastic multidisciplinary, creative, women-led space:
https://womenofthewick.com/online/
If you, too, love to embrace the wild places of your consciousness through movement, I highly recommend you check out my friends, Wren (creator of Cocrea) and Xandy (creator of Liberato).
Pssst, and Cocrea is coming to Costa Rica next year in February! Come dance with me!
