Trance dance rant!

[railenthe]

NOTE: Currently the first part of this thingy is locked due to broken pics and file errors.  So if it seems out of sequence…that's cuz it is =P

Well, here we go again. I wasn’t trying to go off again like this, but it seems that new music gets my head going.

This is kinda a metaphysical rant. I managed to get a few of my thoughts out on liturgical/ritual dance earlier, but then the other side of my brain started to working, and suddenly I couldn’t keep my mind on the discussion at hand. I though it prudent to split my thoughts off into different areas while I had the chance, and decided that it would be best to keep it going on a different header.

Anyway, today’s topic is Trance Dance. I don’t mean in a club context; though you can do that if you trust yourself to be in an area like that in the type of state that one’s mind tends to fly into during a ritualistic dance. No, I’m speaking more of the mid-ritual dance that numerous pagans (including myself) do.

One of the first rituals that I ever did was a dance rite. It didn’t require many supplies-working arms, working legs, and an outfit suitable for the weather was all that I needed; I didn’t feel coordinated without the music though, so I brought my radio and CD player out there, connecting the two devices using a tape cassette adapter to pipe the CD I’d chosen through large speakers.

That night, I stole out of the house with only a vague idea of what I’d be doing. I can’t remember why I did it the first time, I just remember feeling this strange need to do it. That’s how it seems to happen most often-you’re struck with a sense of urgent need, and with nothing out there to stop you, you just DO it. I remember that I didn’t even have a set choreography planned. I just had the sensation. Essentially I threw the sticks and thought, The gods will guide me, and stepped out into the night. (I remember, after I had that thought, thinking that I sounded like one of those crazy old priests that you see cast as the serial killer villain in movies. I’d laughed it off and patted the sword that I had hanging at my hip lovingly.)

For some reason, after I’d cast and cleared my circle, I was nervous. I didn’t know why. It was roughly three A.M., so no one was watching. Hells, I doubt that anyone else in the neighborhood was even awake. Yet, there I was, holding my gilded sword out, silk tassel blowing in the errant breeze, wondering, Am I supposed to be doing this?

It was probably a good idea to just stop thinking at that point. So I stopped thinking so much and queued my CD.

Once I’d started moving, it was a totally different game. I remember that the vague sensation of tiredness that I had been feeling had vanished abruptly with the first strike of my sword arm (I’m wielding this thing left-handed how? I’d thought). I’d heard the song at least a hundred times before; it was all a matter of moving the way that it told me to. Somewhere in the middle of the song, I noticed that it didn’t feel like I was actually doing the movement. I got the distinct sense of being somewhere in the northwest of my circle, watching my body do the movements, and giving pointers from where I stood (?).

There was this incredible rush, like all of the blood had come to the surface of my skin. My breathing slowed, deepened, as I went from a sliding step into a whirl that sent the dust flying from my heels and the tip of my blade as I arced it heavenward. I remember seeing the moonlight, reflected off the mirror-polished blade, gleaming off of the word "Venus" etched into the blade, and feeling a sort of chill run through my body. All I knew at the time was the movement, the music, and my body. Very little ever had that sort of effect on me, and I savored it as if it wouldn’t happen again. It didn’t subside until about the same time the next day, and even after that, I still felt a sort of high afterward.

By the time it was done with and the circle broken down, I realized that I had no idea of half of the steps and movements that I had used. And it wasn’t until I’d gotten everything back into the house that the first threads of dawn light had begun forming on the horizon. I’d literally danced until dawn, I noticed. After sleeping-well, napping-through the first quarter of the buzz, I did some reading. As it turned out, my experience was the norm for spontaneous dance-having no idea of where your movements came from, having no idea of how long it had gone on-and, I remembered, strange body-temperature spikes and dips that can seem alarming at first.

Nowhere in any of my books did it mention it to be potentially addictive. Not three nights had passed before I repeated the act. I didn’t even have anything in mind that time. Sure, I had a vague idea that something wasn’t set up the way it was supposed to be and a little more money would be nice-but nothing pressing enough to warrant the repetition of the last time. I just wanted to do it again-this time, just to revel in the sensation.

That time, I had more memory of what I’d done. And, the experience was even stronger than it had been before. My thoughts were less coherent during, however. They were a happy bundle of-hmm, how exactly does one verbalize "fj;a:(^*$(OU$W#klj," anyway? Oh, now I remember-it was "Nnngh!" It wasn’t long before I started doing rudimentary choreography, trying it out-and getting both stellar ‘ritual work’ results and that same, indescribable, incredible rush that the first time had brought out.

In a couple of days I’ll trust myself to be coherent enough to offer basic guidelines for someone new at the thing to try out. But, right now, I’m listening to a song called "Vivere" by Lesiëm-and it’s managed to get my muses all alight with a dance. I’ve been working on it in my head and am getting ready to set it up to practice. It’ll probably wind up being specifically a prayer dance. Oh, yeah-that would specifically be a number that you offer directly as worship. ^^’ And I’d best figure it out fast.

I’ve got that urgent sense of need back again, and the desire for that ethereal, otherworldly sense of being filled that I get from it.