Skip to main content

Spirituality

Imagine if Jesus was a dancer... Christianity would be totally different, in concept and in practise. Raised a Christian, I've long since lost faith in all religions, except for some Buddhist ideas and meditation practices. I rarely think about spirituality overtly. But when I do... I realise that dance has a spiritual element for me – the feeling of joyous connection and one-ness with a partner or a community.

So maybe you could call me a Dance Evangelist? Below is a video of a dance performance I attended during my visit to Bali, totally different to the styles I practice. It shows the creative flexibility of dance and a spiritual dimension. Overt displays of spirituality are a distinctive feature of Balinese life: showy temples or altars at home, daily offerings of fresh flowers in homes, shops and restaurants. And so with many traditional Balinese dances: stories with characters, some of them magical or sacred, are vividly portrayed in dance-theatre. The same magical beast with human feet is also portrayed in stone sculpture.

We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. – Nietzsche

If you feel inspired to learn to dance, I offer some tips on the Just do it! page. And I do hope you feel inspired... in many cultures around the world, and many epochs, everyone danced. In some places, they still do. You can do it.

Balinese traditional dance performance from Deezy on Vimeo.

Untitled


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Physical poetry – Contact Improv in Madrid

On my first visit to Madrid, I wrote about exploring Lavapies Tabacalera by day – sophisticated art installations in warehouse galleries. On this second visit to Madrid, I discovered the Tabacalera studios by night – a living, breathing art community. Cuban flautist and poet Liz stayed in touch after our chance meeting in Lisbon, and joined me for this contact improvisation adventure. Tabacaleras are former tobacco factories, given over to the arts by many Spanish municipalities. Passing through the unmarked portal into this furnace of creativity, I quickly felt relaxed and at home. Liz said she had never seen anything like it it. To get the dance studio, we traversed a cavernous room of giant murals into a corridor of spectacular street art, past booming reggae and African DJ dens, out into the yard. A few oil drum fires burned, and people gathered around to keep warm, under the gaze of Albert Einstein. If only he could see his two-metre high portrait, spray painted on old wo...
2 comments
Read more

From seaweed to bananas – Contact Improv in Dublin

The dancers were sitting in a circle when I arrived. A stranger, I was greeted with words of welcome and invited to join the end of a class by Yaeli. We danced as seaweed buffeted by waves, brushed by fish... first anchored on rocks, then taking flight into the water. This seaweed dance was one of my best trio experiences, taking turns with David and Fergus in the roles of weed or wave or fish. A friendly jam followed, including dances with Isabel and Jacob.  When the jam was over, we said goodbye with hugs. I felt great... welcomed to the community, emotionally and physically invigorated. I walked to my bus stop with a smile on my face. Though bus rides are usually tedious and smelly in the damp Dublin winter, I smiled the whole way. I got off and walked the few hundred metres home in the freezing rain. Soon I was home with hot tea, a hot bath, and downy bed – a happy body, drifting into dreams. Going bananas at the Lab The offer to share dance skills came at a d...
Post a Comment
Read more

Beggars 2017/10/03 Pamplona, Spain

It pains me that four of the nine black people I've seen here in Navarra are are beggars. Today I bought shampoo from a friendly black lady in the market. But at two of the four market gates, a young fit black man stands, with a cup in hand, eyeing passers by. Of course I get the full eyeball, up down. Same thing at the supermarket across the road. Black people are a highly visible, small minority here, so there is that moment of recognition and then a very uncomfortable moment. I would like to feel solidarity, warmth. Instead as they stare, I feel harassed... the guilting of a beggar, plus an undertone of sexual harassment. One of the beggars is more polite... smiles more, stares less... but I still want to avoid him. Passing them, I feel anger, fear, contempt. Two kinds of fear... of the beggar, and of the racism that feeds off their image. I don't choose to feel this way. Without wanting to blame the victim, I'm ashamed of how they inhabit a negative stereotype, perpe...
Post a Comment
Read more