"Movement is based on a universal human necessity to express." -Tom Weklser
Have you watched a newborn move lately? Have you seen the great mystery in a reflex to suckle? Can you remember your first micro movements? In the womb we move; we move in the deep darkness. Our mothers may describe our patterns, our unique movements, as they experienced them. In the depth of our growing we shift, twirl, bounce, kick, grab, and we hold ourselves as we are held in the densest nurturing space a body can provide.
So it’s no big surprise that in the darkest times in our lives-- when we can’t see the path clearly, when we are hurt, when we feel confused—our bodies may seek the medicine--the ancient dances-- our still differentiating cells can provide. No pharmaceutical company can patent the medicine of these universal dances-- the swirling slow tide rise and fall, the deep rumble of plates shifting, the hum of bee processions, the heartbeat of woodpeckers carving, or the creaking of old pines swaying. We dance our own uniquely compounded medicine.
I grew, like many, ashamed of the body--its unpredictability, sensuality, and wild nature. Slowly in the depth of grieving I began kneeling at the altar of pleasure within the body, moving beyond living apologetically in this fleshy temple. I started to confront the disconnection from my body—from nature itself. I began to remember the rhythm that connected me to my roots--my ancestors.
I began dancing constantly and instinctively a few years ago, I danced in the grocery store, the forest, on my kitchen floor, I danced in the airport, on the sailboat, in the river, and everywhere I needed to. I began to realize that my body was the playground for my spirit and it was recess indefinitely.
And now I am amazed that the confluence of my work in the mental health industry and my own healing has led me to this point—a place to offer a container to remember our bodies’ intelligence and to express ourselves in ancient ways. I now see dancing as being central to my role as a nurse practitioner—so if I had a prescription pad handy I’d write: ‘may we renew our vows to our body eternally and travel the infinite universe within!’ Refill daily.
Erika McClung, PMHNP
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