After crossing into the world of yogis, I quickly realized the array of classes and sessions on tap was far more than just your average yoga studio. I glossed over the schedule, passing Vinyasa, gong meditations, and laughter sessions, until my eyes fell on the crown jewel: Ecstatic Dance.
Not to toot my own horn here, but I can cut a rug (or yoga mat) with the best of them. So, learning that there was going to be an hour and a half session of freestyle dancing to every kind of music from tribal to hip-hop, where the only rule was that you couldn’t speak to anyone, had me juiced (fresh pressed, if you were wondering). No bar, no drugs (not that I noticed at least), just me, myself, and a dance floor in the middle of a jungle. And about 100 other people, but they were an afterthought.
I danced like I was the star in a Macklemore music video. Non-stop, no inhibitions, for nearly 2 hours. By the end of the night, my shorts looked and felt like I’d just showered in them, and my tank top was long gone; it was weighing me down anyways. In the few moments that I came out of my zone, I looked around to see people in their own worlds, some slowly bobbing back and forth, some racing around in circles, some holding crazy yoga poses, and some bending, contorting, and flowing like I’d never seen.
Somewhere between Kendrick Lamar and the hand-holding emotional release outburst exercise to wrap up the night, I was properly perplexed by what was happening around me.
Where in the hell was I? Who knows, who cares really?
What I do know is that I challenged myself to a dance off…and won.