Dancing Love

Photo by Lone Morch

This poem was published by Rebelle Society.

Dance is like floss, sweeping between and through my joint spaces and bones; creating space where there was accumulation and sorrow. 

The aches become less urgent, spaciousness is a welcome sensation. 

Continuity, fluidity, rhythm.  Extension. 

How moving in a slightly different direction can capture my attention; move a proverbial mountain that would otherwise remain for lifetimes. 

I dance for me. 

It moves my aching back; clears cobwebs, opens the portals.  

To move in a way I’ve never moved before is a revolution!  A direction other than forward, linear; walk, walk, reach, bend, hold the steering wheel. 

Angles and arches reveal infinite shapes. Stomping generates sound and vibration. I lengthen, become taller, more hollow; s p a c i o u s.  There is an opportunity there. 

Density is stuffy. 

I dance to express something with my entire body – my whole being; to express Love; to shake off some pain; to reveal a smile.  Create momentum.  Stretch beyond what I think I can.  To share what I can’t find words for.   

When I dance I can see myself in my mind’s eye being graceful, in command, bathed in evening sun; aligned with the universe and confident in my intention to share Light, Joy, Love of Dance, Nature, Humanity. 

I am extraordinary.  I can imagine that.  I can be that.  An extraordinary vessel that can inspire. 

I stretch myself and still feel confident; know that the unknown is an opportunity not to be feared.  If I can move in this interesting and unchartered way, perhaps I can reach into the world in unexpected ways without fear. 

Perhaps the ache in my hips and my back, rather than holding me back, can transform.  And that ache in my heart that haunts me since I was small.  I can stretch, jiggle, and slide.

Those aches and doubts and tragedies, small and large, can be transformed into watery spirals, and soar in a new rhythmical symphony of possibility – informing but not imposing.  Memories stuck but then set free become inspiration; reasons to change.  

What a gift to be able to see myself as a collaborative cellular community imbued with infinite divine possibility, rather than a finite and unfortunate structure, like a box.  A closed space. 

What does it mean to see myself as a closed space?  In a closed space?  Finite?  To identify with my pain?  To perceive confinement?

How movement transforms my cellular structure, and my thinking, is curious to me. 

Is dance necessarily a state of being out of control?  Like a spectacular tantrum.  Fleshy and sweaty.  Beams of essential light bursting through pores and eyeballs. 

Or flawless syncopation; a cellular symphony of atomic vibrations that conveys the sincerest and sweetest expression of humanness?  Is control a necessary part of that?  May dance be an opportunity to transcend control?  To touch my greatest, most ethereal potential – the most sensual and spectacular; like WOW!  Is this even real?   Is this even possible?

Expansion.  Compassion.  Connection.  Love.  Human synergy. 

I think I just saw God, if even from a distance, a brief glimpse. 

That God is me. 

That Goddess is my dance. 

God and Goddess dance in me and gave me dance in order that I may excel and express the best aspects of me beyond measure. 

What does that mean, to see beyond myself?  Beyond my limited worldview?  I can expand myself with rhythmical feet, long arms that explore possible trajectories in infinite pathways.  I can expand in expression, emit compassion.  Embody Love.  Self Confidence.  Self Knowledge. 

Those tiny little stubborn bits within me that adhere for dear life – “leave me alone,” “let me be,” “let me hide here forever. “

That is what dance can liberate.  And this is the beginning of transformation. 

Dancing every day is good.  I will do it until I die. 

Dance every day.  Dance every day.  Dance every day. 

(I’m forgetful)

Dance on the train.  Dance when I’m sitting in a chair.  Dance when I am in conversation.  Dance when I am alone.  Dance when I am snuggling with my dog.  Dance when I am feeling sexual – allow sexuality to live in me; to move me; to sparkle and grow and animate my dance. 

To dance without shame. 

That dance that happens in every minute of every day, if I let it.  Dance even in my dreams.  Sensing, surrendering, being moved.  This is dancing.  This I will do every day. 

Refugee Relief Work with Acupuncturists Without Borders

This post was originally published on my Facebook page on October 7, 2016.

I have just returned from Greece after two weeks working in refugee camps with Acupuncturists Without Borders. It is going to take me a while to process and digest all that I’ve seen and experienced. For now I just want to say, please remember that there is a massive humanitarian crisis happening in the Middle East and Europe. Lovely, courageous people feel all but forgotten in squalid conditions in camps. A message I found written on a wall in one of the camps spoke volumes: “We are not animals.” I’m asking everyone who reads this to remember that we are all immigrants in America – My family migrated just a generation before I was born an American. Someone reached out to bring us to safety. 

Google “refugees port of piraeus” and check out the pictures that come up to begin to get a sense of the enormity of this humanitarian disaster. 

The authorities are not handling it; the media is not covering it. 

I recently learned the significant difference between an Expat and a migrant; I’m embarrassed that the importance of this differentiation has never really crossed my mind before. My family of origin were migrants to America post WWII. Now, I’m considered an “Expat.” I am overwhelmed with sadness and shame when I consider that many previous generations of migrants remain paralyzed and indignant in an odd combination of fear and privilege, allowing history to mercilessly repeat itself. 

I am touched and deeply appreciative of the astonishing generosity of the Greeks (and others across Europe) who have given generously of their donations of food and clothing, despite not having enough for their own families. I heard a story from a Greek woman who went to meet refugees coming into the Port of Piraeus to see how she could help; they were not allowed to give food or even dry clothes to people coming off of the boats until they were registered – which takes many hours.

The majority of volunteers in the camps that I had the opportunity to speak to are young 20-somethings. They are driven and compelled by their incredible hearts, and are overwhelmed; stressed out, working long hours. Yup, that’s right, 20-somethings, from all over the world, essentially running the show in these camps. If there was military presence there, I did not see it. These kids are absolutely committed to the cause, many extending their terms of service because they don’t want to leave. They become very attached to the residents in the camps. They work long days, attend meetings in the morning and late at night, and some told me they felt guilty for coming home at night to a nice hotel or shared rental home. Most who I spoke to were not sleeping well. 

In addition there were two American women who impressed the hell out of me; both have dropped their lives at home to work full-time at the camps; one overseeing an entire camp (a 24/7 job); the other providing fresh, wholesome, and ethnically appropriate food to an entire camp as she understands how important this is for promoting the best opportunity for health and well-being among the squalid circumstances. 

We gave trauma-relieving acupuncture treatments and massages, and witnessed how relaxation and human touch could provide a few moments of calm and relief. We were showered with gestures of gratitude, and enthusiastically assisted by residents who would help manage our space and interpret for us. We were fed delicious traditional home-made meals and sweets in refugees’ tents and plasterboard-enclosed cubicles. 

I am obsessed now with finding ways to help. I will for sure be posting more on this later. Future trips with Acupuncturists Without Borders are certainly in my future. 

If your life circumstances won’t allow you to do anything else, please just pray for our brothers and sisters who are trapped, suffering, and deeply traumatized by this disaster. 

Are You Syrious?, is a blog and Facebook page that provides regular updates on the refugee crisis.  If you would like to support our refugee relief work in Greece and other crisis areas around the world, visit http://www.acuwithoutborders.org/donate/.

Find out other ways to help on my Activism Page

Food Matters (more than we know)

Living in a country that is not your native land presents innumerable challenges and opportunities for growth. Not the least of which can be maintaining good health, and re-establishing equilibrium in an environment where everything is new and perhaps a bit strange.

The local food culture is one aspect of a new environment that can impact us very intimately. Experiencing new flavors, aromas and customs can be a deeply rewarding part of traveling or living in a new community, and at the same time, can contribute to the stressful load of new things that we need to adapt to.

Perhaps the most valuable takeaway for me from all of my years of studying and practicing natural medicine is that our capacity for self healing and preservation far exceeds what we generally give ourselves credit for. My journey into natural medicine started with food; a seriously dysfunctional relationship with food, to be specific. I’ve experienced first-hand the significant impact that food can have on our energy, mood, consciousness, and our ability to think clearly. Food is a magnificent gift from Nature Herself which we take in at regular intervals to heal and regenerate our cells, blood, tissues, muscles and bones. It can be a major factor in creating health and vitality and preventing disease. Used skillfully, food can be thy medicine. Misused, it can and does move us toward a suboptimal experience of life, and an early grave.

Read the full article here

Postnatal Support Network provides help for new mothers

Postnatal helpers learn the traditional practice of belly binding to support postpartum healing.  

I was recently reminded how monumentally significant the event of childbirth is for a woman, and how its imprint endures for her, her baby, her family, and her community.

I was sitting in a circle of women who felt called to the mission of Postnatal Support Network. We were there to be trained as postnatal support helpers. During the training we held space for a Mother-honoring ritual, learned nourishing recipes specifically suited for the postpartum period (which we prepared and ate together), and shared intimate details - joys, regrets, tears, traumas, crises, memories of wonderful and difficult moments - of our own birth experiences. What had brought us together was a common, heartfelt desire to shower new mothers with extraordinary love, support, nourishment, and compassionate care during this tender and pivotal time in their lives.

Read the full article here