Dance will pull me out of this
Just as the function of f(x)=e^x tends toward infinity,
my body, mind, and imagination tend toward dance.
Nothing in this world has ever had quite the same healing powers over my psyche as rhythmic movement set to music. This is what I mean when I say, 'dance is my therapy'. Or in the words of a random neuroscientist whose article I found on Google Scholar:
"The combination of movement and music during dance results in a distinct state characterized by acutely heightened pleasure, which is of potential interest for the use of dance in therapeutic settings." (Bernardi et al. 2017)
I’ve been dancing for over 20 years now. That is to say, I’ve been taking lessons in styles of dance spanning ballet, afro fusion, dancehall, house, hip-hop, heels, vogue, or pole dance, for over 20 years. Dancing in the sense of moving my limbs in any other manner than functionally, by jigging and jiving around, I surely have been doing ever since I could stand upright. I did not realise, however, how much this is part of my personality, until one day, for the nth time, my partner and I broke down how differently we perceive music.
Her focus lies heavily on the lyrics. What story are they telling? What hidden meanings or profound interpretations may be teased out from the words upon your 18th listen? I, on the other hand, could listen to nonsensical gibberish, or the lamest rhymes and kitschiest hyperbole, or indeed lyric-less music for hours on end, so long the beat satisfies me. Every now and then a line might stand out as especially good or especially bad, but I rarely find as deep of a connection with the music’s words as I do with its rhythms, melodies, and production.
That day, the why of it all finally hit me: I perceive music through my moving body. Or through how my mind envisions my body moving. A song is rousing when it compels me into motion. When it makes me tap my feet and bop my head. When I am left with no choice but to twirl and bounce and swing my arms around.
It goes so far that, while someone else might be playing little movies in their head, or thinking of scenarios accompanied by the music that enters their ears, I think in choreographies. How could the emotion of the song, the feeling behind its notes and harmonies, be extended and conveyed through my limbs? What intricacies in the instrumentation may be reflected in a kick of my heels or a sweep of my elbow? These routines may never materialize, and may not be particularly skillful either, but they form an essential part of why I place much more importance on musicality rather than lyricism.
Without my weekly dance classes I would surely wither in unforeseen ways, and after decades of practice, I feel I’ve finally reached a level of skill, security and confidence that allows me to authentically express myself in my unique style of movement while also just having incredible fun. Learning new steps is the easiest way to get me out of my head and into the present moment, with the necessary concentration coming wonderfully naturally. And the rush of a choreo well-executed, the joy of integrating a difficult new sequences into my existing repertoire, the endorphins released when I am able to really feel the music, are the satisfying pay-off for all my efforts.
All of this, however, still does not fully explain the uniquely therapeutic effect dance has on me.
I’ve never managed to enter a meditative state - I have yet to find sufficient patience to train for it. But dancing to specific genres of music might be the closest I have ever gotten.
And so, 2022 happened to be the year I discovered the ‘distinct state characterized by acutely heightened pleasure’ I enter when dancing specifically to techno and electronic music.
I used to think inane the idea of seeking out dark clubs filled with sweaty bodies, just to aggressively two-step to a repetitive beat. That was until, one serendipitous night, I found myself in a repurposed parking garage turned techno-bunker at the tail end of Barcelona’s largest music festival. I had wandered off on my own after enjoying a range of different sets, drawn in by thumping bass and ominous lighting emanating from the mouth of this cave.
Not quite knowing what to do with myself at the edges of the crowd, I started imitating the sequence of motion I saw repeated within most every single one of the bunker-attendees. A simple shifting of the weight, from left to right and back left again, over and over, like a relentless march ordered on by the battle call toward oblivion.
And after overcoming the initial rigidity of my joints, carefully oiling all the seams where my creaky bones scraped up against each other, oblivion I did indeed find. The speakers thump too loudly to let the thoughts in your head take any coherent shape. Thus, you must accept the void and turn yourself over completely, to let every tune erode you, particle by particle, until you have melted into the sound.
Since that night, I continue to seek the same refuge from my own mind, as I flee both deeper within my body and simultaneously far beyond its physical boundaries. I am fully present in my vessel and observe how it moves instinctively to every beat, every note, and every chime. How the visceral sensation of dancing in harmony with the music spreads through me in euphoric prickles. And so, I have become my own keeper, as I rock myself into intense yet tranquil ecstasy. Letting the body, for once, be in complete control.
Bernardi, N. F., Bellemare-Pepin, A., & Peretz, I. 2017, ‘Enhancement of Pleasure during Spontaneous Dance’, Frontiers in Human Neuroscience, vol. 11, pp. 572. DOI:10.3389/fnhum.2017.00572