greetings all,
Today is OSA 183, and I have been bathing myself in the awareness of my eternally flowing blessings. Last night at a Navaratri (night nights of the divine mother) celebration, I was singing with a throng of beautiful people and felt tears of joy welling inside of me. I danced in my seat, with my eyes closed, seeing all the beautiful ancestors who have come before me join me in the dance. We shook booties, rubbed bellies, jumped into each others arms, and rolled in the sands of time until our tears of laughter brought water back to the Sahara. We celebrated how many places I've been, all the beautiful people I've met along the way. I felt so free, so full of bliss, high on life, thankful for all the awakenings, sharings, meditations, and healing coming through me in this transitional time.
As I am restructuring the Open Space Activation project, please journey with me to dance-miracles that occurred before April 18, 2007 (OSA 1). This entry, "The Place Where Life Begins" is excerpted from a book, "Moving Sukma," about my dance work in Bali, Indonesia. This story takes us back to May of 2006, to a magical time in a little town of Ubud. Enjoy the dance, it is upon us, seeking us at every moment.
Winding through the intricate, natural garden of the Ananda Cottages in Ubud, Bali, I have no idea what journey is about to commence. It has been less than two hours since disembarking from the twenty-four hour flight that began at Washington Dulles. Upon arrival to Bali, Singapore Airlines informs me that JFK forgot to load my bag on the plane. I am exhausted but there’s still ten more hours of day in Indonesia. My rambling thoughts are crowded out by the endless marvels of this lush passageway. In a space so ripe with life, with sound, with mystery, my petty grievances begin to evaporate in the humidity. Sensing my awe, the Balinese guide is silent as he leads me to the in-progress Quest for Global Peace & Healing’s Pre-Conference “Youth In Action” Summit. My left arm rises instinctively and moves through countless cycles of my “give thanks” movement prayer. It is, after all, a miracle that I am even here.
I stumble along the narrow footpaths that weave together the muddy rice paddies in what has to be the green paradise of Mother Nature’s original design. Trees of all sizes loom above. Their branches bless me with gentle nudges and pricks. A parade of flowers welcomes me into their sacred space. “Give thanks,” I dance through my hands, “the Mother of Movement has arrived.” Wrapped in yellow and pink lapas, traditional cloth wraps African women wear when dancing and doing everything else we do, a smile overtakes me—I, too, am one of these flowers. I feel so small in the enormous majesty of this garden’s universe. The fertile ground underneath my feet awaits the dance I have come to bring; a new home is forming around me.
The eighty-five other youth activists who arrived the night before from all over the world have been in conference all day. The energy of the open-air meeting room is heavy with heat and analytical-brain overdrive. I can tell they have been sitting too long because their eyes jump with relief when I enter the space. A huge smile comes over an African boy’s face. (A sigh of joy, I’m not the only one.) I am suddenly preoccupied with scheming up a plan to get us dancing. What good is preparing for a “Movement” if we ourselves are not moving? No worries, I communicate with gentle eyes; I will make a space for the movement. We must, in spite of everything, always integrate the mental work into our physical bodies. We must be willing to move our-Selves for the sake of the whole Movement.
Looking around I see that we truly are a global assembly—representing all continents, colors, ages from sixteen to thirty, religions, skills, students, teachers, healers, artists, entrepreneurs, scientists—we are the world, literally. An editor from Bangkok, a math wizard from Mumbai, a youth counselor from Sydney, an economics major from Capetown, a teacher from Denpasar, a poet from New Mexico, the leading mayoral candidate from Machu Picchu. We have all come with our different stories, our impressive three-page curriculum vitaes, our sure-fire plans for healing our communities, our globe. But who, I wonder as I look around at my revolutionary sisters and brothers, has come to heal themselves?
Gathered in small groups for a series of ice breakers, I share that my “global healing” is the literal movement, the dance that we all do together. The breath is the first dance, the origin of all movement, the indication of a life force. When we start there, when we start with Self, when we honor the unifying truth that the breath makes us all One, then we embrace a harmony of spirit that enables a global shift in consciousness, in values, in compassion for human life.
Samantha, one of our facilitators, instantly connects with my words and decides that the group needs a movement interlude. “This is what you do, right? You can do like fifteen minute energy booster on-demand?” she asks with intensity. “Yes!” I assure her, zapping out of the slump of jetlag. A request for dance always brings me back to full awareness.
During the snack break my mind races over all the movement activities to choose from; there are so many! I could really do a fifteen-day interlude if they let me! I am too overjoyed. I think, what a blessing it is to be able to share my gifts with everyone—and I just landed! I am reminding myself to breathe, to not talk too fast, to be natural and let the dance do its magic.
I assemble everybody in a large circle. I want to see all of their beautiful faces as I introduce myself. “I am Binahkaye, and I am a Mother of Movement. I translate the energy of the universe, the energy around me into movement. The breath is the first dance. Let us breathe together. Inhale—” I can barely hear them! “No, inhale so we can hear it!” Everyone takes a deeper breath, trying not to laugh. “Good, now exhale slowly.” We continue breathing a few more rounds; a peace illuminates from our circle.
I begin sharing the “give thanks” movement prayer with them. “This is how I begin all movement experiences, with a prayer, ‘give thanks.’ I will show you the basic moves, but once you have it, make it yours. It’s your own prayer.”
First, we reach up to give thanks to the Creator for giving us life.” Arms of all colors rise up to be in unison with me. The composition of our elongated bodies mimics the tall trees encircling our space.
“Then we reach deep into the earth and give thanks for the ancestors that support us, that give us wisdom.” We widen our feet, bend our knees, extend our arms downward, reaching symbolically into the wood-paneled floor. Curving our spines down and letting our heads surrender to gravity, we relax our necks. We allow whatever is clogging up the brain to slide onto the floor.
“Then we pull the chi, the life force energy from the earth, up into our center, the home of our creative chakra, and give thanks that we are here to give our love back out into the world.” Grabbing the invisible energy with our hands, we rise slowly. Bringing our arms into our abdomen area first, and then extending them outwards and around to our sides. We repeat the “give thanks” cycle several times in silence before moving on.
It is such a blessing to be a witness to the multitude of experiences occurring. Some move with hesitation because they have never “danced” before. Some are naturally in-tune with their movement and have their eyes closed so that they can relax deeper into themselves. Some move in perfect imitation of me, keenly watching for the next move because my English was too fast for them to understand anything I said. Sensing that “give thanks” has warmed the blood, I begin to initiate bigger, “louder” movements to wake up the rest of the body. We jump, we stomp, we spin, we laugh, we shout—we are now ready to play.
I am about to experiment with a new game I have just conceived—“Shake-a-Hug”—literally ten minutes prior. I think, this type of arena is the best inauguration my idea can have anyway, good or bad! “So that we can get to know each other a little more,” I begin, “we’re going to do a hugging exercise. Try to hug as many people as you can. All the while we’ll sing and clap to the beat ‘Shake, shake, shake—Hug!’ When you shake, let your body loosen up some more.” The circle breaks a part in all directions as we meander through the space trying to shake and hug and clap to the beat. It brings forth much laughter and relaxation. Simple things can get us out of our head and into the joy that is our true nature. After singing many rounds and hugging lots of people, we reconvene in the big circle. Reading the group’s vibe, I can tell we are ready for more.
“Find a partner,” I instruct, “preferably someone you don’t know.” Murmurs begin. Bits of many languages pop into my ears as everyone makes sure that no one is left out because of a language barrier. “This game is called ‘Mirrors’. The shortest person in the pair will be Partner A. The taller person, Partner B.” Everyone’s eyes bounce around, what are they going to have to do, they wonder. “Partner A will start, and can do any movement or dance and Partner B will follow. Try not to talk. When I say switch, Partner B will be the leader. Feel free to do any type of movement!”
As it would be, my partner is a tall, beautiful goddess named Kasey. She is a graceful mover, completely trusting her body with my movement. We dip into the floor with knee bends. We spiral our torsos and wave our arms. We are in-sync. You wouldn’t be able to tell that I was leading and she was following. We smile. In between movements, I steal glances out into the room to gauge how the group is responding to the exercise. Everyone appears to be having a good time. I see so much creative movement happening all around me. After a couple of minutes, I announce it’s time for the switch. Kasey leads me into expanded swings and turns, I am having so much fun that I don’t want to stop our activity. All around me I see and hear the joy coming from the group. Each pair is forming a sacred bond unique to this sacred moment, specific to this shared movement.
When we finish “Mirrors,” we reform the big circle. I invite any volunteers to share movement that came up with their partner. Jim from Australia steps forward with his partner and they do a dance mimicking the kangaroo; he says it is native to the aboriginal peoples. Everyone is excited and applauds them. I look around to see if others want to share, but no one steps out. Now that we have returned to the big group, fear and hesitation are crippling some people’s feet to the floor. I smile and remind them to “just honor where you are. Be aware of that feeling or that voice in your head that is holding you back from coming forward. Don’t judge yourself, but just be aware of that resistant feeling you may be experiencing to come into the center.” Some people chuckle as they admit to themselves that their reluctance to share is rooted in that fear.
It is only the first day, I tell myself. In this moment I will not delve into the implications that their “reluctance” to move has for the greater, global “Movement”—the subject we so passionately came to meet about in Ubud. I recognize the delicate and, for most, new space that the dance activities has brought everyone to. Within the diversity of our circle I begin to see the magnitude of the dance work I will be sharing over the conference. I sense it will manifest in many ways with all the different types of people I am going to meet and move with.
How to bring others into the powerful awareness that the “Movement” begins with our actual, moving bodies? How to bring people into a space where fear can arrest and truth can take over? I ponder these thoughts as I scan the faces of my peers. With a deep breath, I begin “give thanks” to close out the movement interlude. “Let us end where we began with ‘give thanks.’ Remember to make it your own.” They join me in the prayer. A natural silence falls over the movement. After four cycles of the prayer, I gather my palms at my heart and bow to all of them, moving my hand from the heart to the floor at their feet in all four directions. They receive me and give love with claps, cheers, pats on my back, hugs, smiles.
Stepping out of the center I turn the floor back over to the facilitators. I am listening, but really my heart is racing. I am so wired, so amped up, so ready to dance more, share more. My awareness of all my blessings is expanding exponentially—the flight was safe, the people liked my dancing, Ubud is so beautiful, so fertile, there are trees everywhere, we are breathing fresh air—what better way to birth and nurture our dreams than immersed in all of this life energy?
Inhaling the beauty of the moment, I am overwhelmed by my wealth of life. I am so honored to be in a space to share it all with others. I sit, breathing, contemplating, imagining the infinite ways in which this journey will spiral outwards, beyond me and into the world. I give thanks for being in such a fertile place, for bearing witness to the birth of the movement.
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