01/04/2025
This is why I dance
Today unfolded as many Tuesday mornings do: a walk to my friend Sejal's for Sircle dance. Except this time was different.
On the way, inner voices whispered doubts: "Has her building truly been deemed safe?" "Even if so, can we fully trust the assessment?" It's fair to say I didn't arrive in my most grounded state.
But oh, how grateful I am that I did.
I was met by a circle of women who openly shared not only the physical state of their apartments but also their ongoing emotional processing after the earthquake. We spoke candidly about the swirling mix of feelings – okay, pretty good, anxious, normal, guilt for feeling normal, surreal, shaky, and a lingering hollowness.
The simple act of sharing these feelings created a sense of safety and being seen. I wasn't alone in my occasional doubts about safety or that anxious tightness in my chest.
And then, we danced...
We began with gentle, meditative movement, a conscious connection to our breath, and an imagined thread linking us to each other and those around the world. We allowed every feeling its space, giving them permission to move through us.
The familiar routine unfolded slowly, each step a mindful return to our bodies after the recent stress and trauma.
Then, about halfway through, a profound shift occurred. It felt as though all the fragmented, fearful parts of me coalesced, rejoining in a central surge of power. I was electric. I was POWERFUL.
I hadn't even registered how diminished my power had felt until it reappeared.
Moving forward, I'm wise enough to know that moments of instability will return. Triggers will surface. Anxiety may creep back into the corners of my mind. Yet, I also know that today, my baseline shifted. My faith in my own resilience was rekindled through embodiment.
I share this story as an invitation to anyone navigating stress (aka everyone) and those who have gone through trauma to remember to move your body!
You're welcome to join us at or wherever else you know you can connect body, breath, and movement.
