the red line

A-Z | Z-A | List

Welcome to my blog page. It’s mostly about the 5Rhythms practice and insights and experiences that come from it.

I hope you enjoy the posts and find them useful. You can see a list of all the posts if you click on the word “List” above here.

You can sign up below, then you’ll get new posts by email as soon as I write something.


Addiction to peak experience – what else is possible?

On the island in Poland a couple of weeks ago I found myself talking about chasing peak experiences in spiritual practice. How I sought deep and meaningful experiences as though that was the goal and the benchmark of good practice.

Er… no… that’s one fifth…..

Technical note for those interested in such things: each aspect of practice discussed here is obviously in vibrational resonance with one of the rhythms, but that does not mean that aspect is only properly experienced when ‘in’ that rhythm. For instance, a peak experience is related to Chaos, but can just as well be experienced in Stillness as at any other time.

Chaos has barely started

Are you aware that what’s going on at this time is a collective shift from an era of Staccato into one of Chaos? Going through my “Evolution” workshop in Toronto over the weekend, this was our investigation, and I was asked to write about it too. So here goes…

We’re approaching the middle of a gigantic wave, unfolding through very long time spans: 

Flowing phase: We lived in small nomadic tribes as hunter-gatherers. Constantly on the move, living close to the earth, and with a tendency to perceive the divine as feminine, this is quintessential Flowing culture.  

Staccato phase: Things changed with the advent of agriculture. We began parcelling up land with borders and fences, taking ownership of earth and people, with a much more controlling way of relating to the natural world and a tendency to perceive the divine as masculine. We’ve got roughly ten thousand years of Staccato behind us. 

Chaos phase: Every wave must break, and the hallmark of Staccato at its peak is that the leading edge of water pushes out and forward to the point of being unsustainable. The only way to go is down. For anyone attached to Staccato, Chaos is a disaster. To that mindset, moving forwards is the ultimate value, and falling is to be avoided at all costs. But if we see the big picture, the unsustainable moment at the end of Staccato is a thrilling transition into that mighty crash we all love when we’re watching big breakers. 

And this one is BIG. Ten thousand years, just for Staccato?! Wow. It’s a behemoth of a wave, and we’re just beginning to tip into zone three. (The best bit if you’re either a spectator or a surfer! Or a dancer :-)

Anything we can glean from the rhythms about how to manage this without wiping out?  

What does the dance of Chaos have to teach us? The following are all pretty clear to me after 30 years of practice, but maybe you can see some more: 

1. Surrender to the process. Trying to keep things in Staccato is a recipe for pain. Get with the program and let Chaos come.

2. Stay grounded and present. Do whatever works for you to attend to the ordinary: take care of the garden, use the kitchen well, and avoid getting lost in screens or head-trips. The fundamentals of movement practice — to be aware of the fullness of life within your body, and the silent space within your breath — don’t leave that on the dance floor. Practice constantly.

3. Let go of old stuff. Going through Chaos is a cleansing process (when it’s functioning well anyway; when it’s not, it’s a mess.) In the process of letting old stuff go, it first has to rise to the surface. Shadows abound, and can seem overwhelming: Stay embodied so that you keep in touch with the knowing, intuitive side of your mind, rather than getting lost in the thinking chat rooms. Let feelings be expressed and released. Be open to changing, radically. 

4. Integrate feminine and masculine forces, finding ways for them to work together. This is imperative, both within your self and between us as humans with tendencies towards one end or the other of the gender spectrum. It’s not surprising that the whole business of gender roles is in the mixing pot right now. Chaos does just that: stirs up what was clear and defined and mixes opposites together. Alongside this, there’s a lot of hurt and anger playing out between men and women, with both personal and archetypal forces involved. Chaos asks us to find our way through and work together, not as equals in the sense of all being the same, but as humans each with their own particular mix of masculine and feminine qualities to add to the mix.

5. Community is the new Buddha. The divine no longer appears to us as distinctly feminine and of the earth, nor as particularly masculine in the sky, but now as androgynous and amongst us, between us, within us. Chaos is all about the collective. It is entirely in keeping with this that networks and groups are springing up all over the world and making things happen, from the untold number of personal development groups that form and dissolve every weekend to the agency for change manifesting through groups like Avaaz or the Pachamama Alliance. Chaos is the rhythm of the mind (Flowing-Body, Staccato-Heart), and we’re naturally perceiving the divine as an intelligence, immanent within everything. Chaos teaches that all is divine, both the force of life and the manifest creation itself. Body and Spirit. Sexuality and spirituality belong together. 

Let’s look a little deeper at the integration of feminine and masculine forces. Chaos is the union of Flowing and Staccato, and it functions well when we take the teachings of those first two rhythms together and integrate them within our experience of Chaos. You can see the analogy in terms of the life cycles represented by these rhythms: our task during adolescence is to let go our parents as teachers, but to integrate their teachings, at least what was useful, within us. We have to learn to mother ourselves, knowing how to care for our needs and give ourselves space to go with our own Flow. We also have to learn to be a good father to ourselves, knowing how to set ourselves limits so that we can stop when required, and how to internally hold our own hand encouragingly when we’re scared so that we can take risks out in the world. 

There’s a natural fall of patriarchy going on globally, with so many institutions that embody masculine authority in some way being toppled — everything from the banking sector to governments to the police. Collectively, we used to look up to such archetypal forms, but that’s all changing, and quite right too in many ways. 

However, we are throwing the baby out with the bathwater in ways that render us in trouble. We need to take the teachings of Staccato with us, or Chaos becomes a bloody mess. If we just decry all things Staccato, we lose our way. It’s vital that we stay heartful, aligned with a sense of purpose, and able to discern when something’s toxic. Bringing the medicine of Staccato along into the fall of Chaos helps us to maintain a sense of dignity, knowing the function of discipline in the face of adversity inside or out. It will re-mind us of the necessity of boundaries to protect vulnerability and nurture new growth. 

I have to mention Jordan Peterson here, because he is speaking out so bravely and brilliantly on this subject. I don’t agree with everything he’s saying, but most of it I’m right with. (And much of what people get offended by is probably because they’re only paying attention to soundbites or headlines, but if you take the trouble to listen to the whole argument, it totally makes sense.) He’s an incredible ambassador for Staccato values, which is not an easy thing to be right when we’re breaking into Chaos. But he’s got such a strong point: don’t throw out the teachings of Staccato just because we’re going into Chaos! Integrate them! He’s making a massive difference to a huge number of young people, particularly young men, who are the most vulnerable to the fall of the masculine as an archetype. 

As a man, I feel very strongly on this subject. Yes, the old ways got rigid, and there’s plenty that needs to change. But it’s a terrible mistake to just lay waste to all things Staccato, and an even worse mistake to blame men for the problems we face as human beings. 

A similarly brilliant strong human, somewhat ahead of Peterson perhaps and holding the ground for the feminine, is Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Her famous work is Women Who Run With The Wolves, but I’m currently listening to The Dangerous Old Woman (audiobook from Soundstrue) and loving that even more.

We’re all in this together. Let’s keep learning to trust our feet, love fiercely and hold hands often as we are taken mightily by the holy fall that is the rhythm of Chaos.

Technique! — “Breathe through the mouth?”

Someone just asked me, “what’s the thing about breathing with your mouth open during 5Rhythms practice?” This was interesting timing because after donkey’s years of being convinced that this is the most advantageous way to go, I’ve just seen things from a different perspective. I’ll share what wisdom I’ve gathered, both old and new. 


Softening the jaw and breathing through the mouth helps your whole body/heart/mind system to relax, and helps you to connect with your physicality and sensuality. It also allows you to be more easily relational with what’s around you: allow your jaw (and lips and even your tongue) to soften a little and feel how you open and engage more fully with what’s around you.


In all the years I studied with Gabrielle, only once did she ever ask us to breathe through the nose alone, and that was for a particular practice on an advanced workshop (and even then she was clear about keeping the jaw relaxed and mouth a little open). I’m not going out on a limb here. It’s standard 5Rhythms basics. Relax your jaw. Let the breath in and out through your mouth as well as your nose. 

So many of us have been programmed to shut up. Look around, and everywhere you can see tight jaws and pursed lips holding back mountains of fear, fury, and grief. Even joy! We’re afraid to feel anything, afraid to live and love. We’re afraid to receive deeply, and afraid to let stuff show freely. 

Most of us skirt away from what we fear rather than face it, feel it, and expand through it. A highly effective way to avoid experiencing all that scary relational, sensual, emotional stuff, is to breathe more shallowly and tense your jaw (along with the lips, tongue, neck and shoulders). Pay attention to your patterns; chances are that if you haven’t practised something else on purpose, that’s the way you go. I’ve been practising it for decades, and I’m pretty good when I’m actually on the dance floor, but it’s still another matter when those fears come up during day to day life. Everything tenses up, and one of the key places the tension shows is in my jaw and mouth. 

Softening the jaw and breathing through the mouth will help all that relational stuff to open up. Your whole system relaxes along with the jaw, to be more fluidly connected with whatever is around you. You’re more vulnerable that way —which may be a big part of what you’re fearing and resisting— but that vulnerability is the ground for your deepest power and beauty if you can only let yourself expand into it.  

This is what I’ve taught and practised, ten thousand times. It’s accurate in many instances, and good baseline technique for some of the fundamental purposes of conscious movement practice such as embodied presence, relational openness to others, and surrendering to the One that moves us all. 


The other day during my practice, I noticed that my mouth wanted to shut. Consistently. So I paid attention and investigated the experience for a while. 

For the last few years, I’ve been circling closer and closer to trauma points from my very early childhood. It’s got to the point where I realise that in all these years of practising the rhythms, for the most part, it’s been too fast, too loud, and too big for that part of me. I’ve literally been overriding my wounding. (This is a big deal to realise, after 30 years! It is throwing up some big questions about our practice per se, and how I teach. It’s right in keeping with the quantum leap in my understanding of the role of Stillness, as any of you who have danced with me recently will know.) 

This part of me is so incredibly raw, that if I really stay with it, my movements are very very gentle, slow and nuanced. I’ve been exploring that over the last couple of years, but just the other day, for the first time, I found that this part of me needed my mouth gently closed. It helped me to turn within to withdraw into myself for a while, which felt healthy.

So that call to write about this from someone coming just days later was a strong enough sync for me to say yes. Hope this is all useful.


For the most part, when I look around the room in a workshop, often the mouth-shut dancers are either deeply trained in yoga (a practice that although has overlaps with the rhythms, also has some quite fundamental differences), or are rather unconsciously running ‘shut down’ programming: sensually, emotionally, and relationally.

If you can connect with a place within you that truly needs to turn within, and closing your mouth helps with that, then I’m right with you. But that may be advanced practice for you, and a closer-to-now step is more along the lines of: open up, breathe deeply and consciously, and Let Go.

Over to you now. Experiment and explore what works. Go down into the roots of your felt senses and find your best way forward. It’s all good. 

Sexuality on the dance floor

In the lunchtime of a workshop recently, a woman came to me distressed. She was feeling harassed by a man on the dance floor that morning, and she was asking for guidance on how to deal with it. I am well aware that this happens a lot. It happens the other way around too of course, and between same-genders, but I’d guess not nearly as much. Person A pursuing person B with varying degrees of intensity, apparently not noticing they’re unwelcome; person B clearly not comfortable with it yet apparently unable or unwilling to change the situation.

This is very tender ground for us collectively right now. This student was so grateful for my response that she asked me to write about it, and immediately I could feel my fear. I recognised that it would probably be useful to put something out, but way easier to keep quiet. It’ll be scary to press “Publish”. I have my own stuff to work through on this theme and am not writing from a perspective of some totally clear and sorted role model. I feel more like ‘work in progress’. I’ve offended people, got caught in my shadows, and overstepped boundaries. Maybe though I’ve made enough mistakes and seen enough going on in others to have something useful to say. I hope so.

“I want a lover”

Gabrielle used to describeUs desaturated the rhythms as the ultimate safe sex, and of course, when people are both attracted to each other, it can be delicious, delightful and expansive to explore that way, with so much freedom and creativity. But this works so much better if we’re not actually cruising for something to happen off the dance floor, obsessing with and identified with thought patterns such as “I wonder if there’s anyone here who would come home with me?”

If you’re hungry and lonely, it can be hard not to do that. However, if what you’re really doing is seeking a lover while pretending to do something else (going through the rhythms as though that’s your focus), that split is a difficult thing to dance with.

Rather than trying to be ‘good’ (which essentially involves you suppressing yourself), if you truly desire to find a lover then you could do it as a dance. You could do this entirely alone, and for yourself! Do it brilliantly, passionately, 100%, so you get to feel all the feelings and see what your mind gets up to. Allow all your feelings and desires, but don’t take them so seriously. Watch whatever comes up, pour it into the dance, and learn about yourself. You can still be in “I want a lover” mode, but you are making your practice the priority again rather than the script itself or the feelings themselves. It’s all just waves passing through.

“I’m not looking for anything outside of this moment, but I like you a lot…”

Then there’s the question of how to handle being attracted to someone specific on the dance floor (rather than generally cruising). Many of us will steer clear altogether, preferring to dance with the safe people — those we’re neither particularly attracted to or turned off by. If you do choose to explore an experience of intense attraction, a good first step would be to get out of your head and move with it all. This can be tough because the mind loves to get a grip on moments like that, but it works if you make a clear choice and just do it. I’ve transformed some sticky patches into profound moments by literally dancing head-trips like “Does s/he like me?” and “I want to…”, often taking me to places that are really nothing to do with the other person at all, but more to do with my own psyche. There’s no need to bother the person with this — just taking those feelings and thoughts, and going somewhere else in the room to move with the whole gamut of oneself can be very empowering.

Then going to dance with them maybe!

Whatever inner work you do, any actual relating with someone you’re attracted to will go a whole lot better if you’re genuinely paying attention to them and being responsive to them rather than obsessing with your internal dialogue. Pour everything into the dance. Keep letting go of your head-trips. Give attention.

“I don’t like you”

Dislike is an inevitable part of being in a group. I asked this woman a few weeks ago how clearly she’d said ‘No’ to him. When I suggested that she use a gesture of pushing the palms of her hands vigorously out towards him from the centre of her chest to full arm extension, and firmly saying or even shouting “Back off!”, her response was “Oh! Is that OK to do that?”

My feeling is that it’s not only OK; it’s essential if all the usual signals don’t work. You could try the gesture first without the words, but yes, if necessary: say something! Otherwise, you’re putting a social norm (in this case the 5R rule of no talking on the dance floor) before your own safety or well-being. That’s a dangerous way to move through the world.

No chatting on the dance floor is a good rule of thumb to keep attention with movement body and breath, but occasionally a word or two greatly empowers the experience, whether or not your boundaries are threatened. This can be so either with partners or even dancing solo: Sometimes one needs to voice something out loud, like “We’re alive!”, or “I love you”, or “No!!!” Very different from chatting.

Simply turning around and moving away is another one. Politeness can be deadly, at the very least to your integrity. If your whole system is saying to you “I need to get away from this” and you don’t, hoping somehow it will change, you’ll get messed up. Who cares if no-one has said “Change partners” yet? Maybe s/he will be offended or hurt, but so what? Walk away. And if s/he follows you persistently, turn around and flash a moment’s fury at them, voice and all, and then again walk away.

If someone is not respecting your boundaries, you’d better find some way of insisting upon it or you’ll be giving them the responsibility for your boundaries, hoping they’ll be nice. No-one is nice all the time. We all cross other people’s lines at times. When someone is crossing yours, it’s your call to do something about it. Be clear. Use whatever works.

“I don’t like you, but that’s interesting”

It may be that your basic response to someone is ‘Yuk’, but you realise they’re not behaving in any way that’s ‘off’. It’s simply your felt response, the result of your chemistry with them. In that case, it can be really fascinating and empowering to dance deeply with them. If you always avoid partnering with people you don’t like, you miss out on a lot. Dance with them and let everything move through you. Let all those feelings deform you out of and beyond your ‘normal’ dance, into your own shadowlands and secret places. Go there for yourself, not in order to ‘do’ anything to the other person. You’ll learn and grow.

“All this is too hard”

I know there are some of you for whom all of the above would be a big stretch. For whom even saying ‘No’ in any situation is very difficult, let alone actually allowing anger to show. If this is true for you, you could say kindly but firmly to yourself: “I need to work on this.”

In the moment, if there’s a situation that is really intolerable for you and beyond your current resources to handle, then inform the teacher or an assistant and ask for help. Maybe even walk out of the class if that feels right, but take it as a major signpost that you’ve got some homework to do.

Invasive crossing of boundaries is one face of shadow-Staccato (the other is separation), whilst essence-Staccato (and it’s emotional counterpart, clear authentic anger) is good medicine for righting such wrongs or even preventing them from happening in the first place. Find your Staccato and your anger and learn to dance with that force until it becomes a sword that you can use in the name of love to defend innocence and vulnerability. You’d better practice over time in situations where you are not up against it; then you will have those skills available when someone goes too far for you. Get one-to-one coaching from someone who can help you, whether that’s a 5Rhythms teacher or a therapist, and work on it. It may well be that the reason you find this difficult is because you’ve been wounded by an invasive experience somewhere along the line. Look after yourself. I highly recommend Karen Melin as a starting point, a somatic experiencing therapist with a lot of 5R experience who can work internationally via skype.

We’re all in this together

There’s a potential invader in all of us, men and women. Don’t we need to learn to listen? To notice when we’re unwelcome, take ourselves in hand and dance, grateful for the feedback? To dive into the longing to be met by someone else on the outside, and instead enfold those longings from the inside for a while?

How hard that can be. Yet how incredibly rewarding, to find our own embrace. To rest in our own arms, and cry our tears of longing even whilst they’re being assuaged in ways we maybe never had as a child?

At other times, isn’t it glorious to step fully into our fiery desire, standing tall and empowered, unashamed of the force of our nature, reclaiming the beauty, nobility and courage it takes to let that desire be seen and felt?

For as ten thousand years of patriarchy crumbles around us, embodying the masculine desire to enter the feminine (whether you be woman or man or other) has become deeply taboo in many circles. This is not an easy time to be a man. A big chunk of men’s natural medicine has become culturally unacceptable, particularly in the personal development world. Dance floors have a lot of men afraid to be masculine and afraid to show their desire, often resulting in a kind of subverted shame-filled leakage that feels oily or slimy to receive instead of a straight out and clear revelation that is easier to take or leave as you choose.

We all have that masculine energy: expressive and out-going, the part of us that desires connection and will reach out across borders to touch hearts and hands. We all have the rhythm of Staccato going on. We’d be lost without its essential medicine, endlessly waiting for the other to come to us, and unable to stand up for our values or boundaries.

I had a profound moment recently on this theme. As a group of men entered a women’s sacred space, I heard a wailing of anguish and rage coming from some of my sisters that was so ancient and utter, it went through my very soul. And I tell you, it felt so good to hear. As a man, I have a longing to be pierced by that cry of rage and pain, because I can sense it so often anyway. There’s a kind of “Ah…” about it. This is real. I feel it. I get it. I’m grateful to hear it how it is, and in the listening I feel the healing going both ways.

I see men and women both experiencing a collective anger and pain now, albeit in different ways. What wild times these are. All that stuff needs to come out, no question, but we can keep moving through so we find forgiveness and understanding. What if we all cut each other a bit of slack, with some good humour thrown in together with a degree of compassion? The dance is a wild spirit, and when we let go into it, we’re going to become wild too. Wilderness is not always comfortable or pleasant, just like Clarissa Pinkola Este’s wolves, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be happening. Unconscious material is going to come up. Hopefully, we’ll take responsibility for that, and learn from everything (what’s coming up from inside and what gets reflected back to us from outside), but our core lessons will come around again and again for reworking. We’re going to make mistakes.

Can we keep remembering that we are all capable of being invasive? That we all get hurt sometimes? There’s a time for saying ‘No, this is not OK with me”, but the narratives which have us believing there really are bad guys and good guys are too small for these times. Deep down we’re all longing for connection in ways that feel nourishing, respectful, and juicy. Whether we tend towards port or starboard sides, we’re all in the same boat.


Following a great many comments on Facebook, I added this addendum:

Great that this article has sparked so much discussion! More than anything else I’ve ever posted, more shares too. Clearly a ‘live’ topic. 

I want to add a couple of things in response to the many many comments I’ve read:

Firstly, I think it’s a fair criticism that because I’m writing from the perspective of a white male I have been somewhat unconscious of the power imbalances that carry over onto the dance floor in my writing. Thank you to the many who have pointed that out. 

I have a caveat on that though. I’ve been leading men’s groups for 25 years, and in recent years I’ve seen something new. There’s a kind of defeated stance, overwhelmed with a weight of judgement and blame that belongs with the collective, but is being carried by some individual men very deeply (no doubt those whose internal chemistry makes it a functional fit, or have been in the firing line personally for some reason). Just as it’s easy for me to not really ‘get’ the feeling of what it’s like to suffer from the power imbalances that women are at the end of, or people of colour, or trans people, it’s no doubt just the same the other way around and hard for others to really ‘get’ what it’s like to be on the receiving end of this tidal wave of judgement that is battering all things masculine in so many ways right now. 

I feel a very strong call to stand up for the masculine and for men at this time, because to the extent that we lose the strength of the positive masculine as a culture, we’re all in very deep trouble. 

Secondly I think some of you are writing from a misunderstanding of what the 5Rhythms were intended to be, and are. They are not purely a healing practice. They are in fact a perfect blend of shamanism, zen and tantra, forming a practice that in turn forms a perfect triangle of three approaches (not correlated with the s/z/t): art, healing and spiritual practice. I wrote about that in another Red Line post. As an art form, which is a fabulous third of the rhythms practice, all this discussion of safety is literally detrimental. Art is not safe, nor should it be. Healing does need to be safe. This is a deep paradox woven into the fabric of the rhythms, and one could argue is a weakness or a strength I guess. Reaching for solutions to the paradox, or trying to pull it one way or the other, is not the answer. Living with the paradox produces profound creative insight, and is in my opinion the way to go. 

Let’s remember to dance wild and true, listen to our breath, and stay open to changing! 

Recapitulation on and off the dance floor

‘Recapitulation’ —in the context of healing— is the process of releasing patterns that have been holding us, stuck in the past in some way. There’s lots of advice out there on how to do this on purpose; identifying something you feel is holding you back, and doing some kind of exercise to let it go. The danger with this is that your ego remains in charge, and ego will always choose a version of change that feeds its own  agendas.

There’s a way of recapitulating our past that cuts deeper though, with a strong element of unpredictability. This happens courtesy of life if you stay quiet, dwelling in the silence within your breath and letting the stream of life do its work on you. If you stay in your silence, then the parameters of your inner restrictions and old baggage will inevitably collide with the events of your life in such a way as to strip you of those burdens.

If you let it.

Instead, we all too readily resist, blame, avoid, deny, reinforcing the carapace we know by listening to the incessant nagging of our internal dialogue rather than our inner silence, moved by ego’s distractions rather than the body’s flow. That voice will always try to stop the process, blaming circumstances or other people or our own failings to avoid letting the impact of our experience reach our core and change us from the inside.


All of this is accelerated on the dance floor. When your attention is awake upon the fullness of your body and the emptiness within your breath, free movement will bring up all that is not free for recapitulation. This is especially so when that movement is going through the rhythms which are such a powerful natural catalyst for change. You often won’t even know what it is that’s being released, though sometimes a knowing will arise from the experience you’re having.

The nub of this release process happens in two phases:

The first is through a Chaotic vibration. It could be via physically chaotic movement which is your body letting go, or via sadness which is your heart’s way of letting go. Either of these can happen within any rhythm of course: for example, you could be deep in Flowing when it comes, with your Flow acquiring a chaotic quality.

The second is through a Lyrical vibration, without which your recapitulation will become mired in self-importance and the carapace that was being set loose will re-embed itself within your self-image, appearing to be different but in reality just wearing a new mask. There needs to be a lightening, a laughter (or at least a rueful smile), a tender gratitude despite the pain, or a phase of creativity where something is offered to others; something like that.

This letting go, and then the lightening, are the heart of the matter. To complete, there needs to be a peaceful return to the grace of silence and stillness, where there is no issue to deal with, and never was. That way the change finds a healthy integration into your psyche.

However, as in the rest of life, this process can be sabotaged or blocked on the dance floor, as in life. We often resist the stages that come before the grieving, when there’s a period of struggle: of tossing and turning internally, wrestling with our demons. We have to give ourselves wholeheartedly to such times when they arise, allowing our feelings to bend us out of the shapes we know. We have to be willing to become as twisted as the patterns that are coming up for release, and often that’s not pretty. We may need to make weird sounds, drool, tear at our clothes or hair, flung to the floor or rampaging through the room.

And before even any of that happens, there’s the first phase of all, which is related to fear. The trouble begins here. Usually, the first sign of fear is flicked away before it can be felt as such because our automatic avoidance systems click into gear so fast. Before the alarm can become conscious, our internal dialogue is already telling us that ‘something is wrong’, and the solution requires stepping out of our practice in some way. We’ll become strangely tired, or we just have to drink some water, or look at a flyer, or the music isn’t right, or we just space out and pay more attention to that nagging voice than to our silence and movement.

The way out of all that, or rather the way into what’s really going on, is to move into your experience within the practice. Dance tired, or dance thirsty, or dance “I can’t dance to this music”, or dance spaced out and dreamy — and with commitment and dedication to as much artistic excellence as you can manage.windmill-day1

Make it your practice to be that dedicated, and you’ll set a template for the rest of your life, and develop resilience for the process of change: not to protect yourself  against it or engineer it from the level of ego, but to have the courage, persistence, and creativity to go with the flow of life and become bigger than you were.

With thanks to Marc Silvestre for creating and holding the space