Find Yourself In Dance

Find yourself in dance

By Kat McCarthy 

On the weekend, I danced with absolute abandon. In a room full of people, with nobody watching. The energy was electric: a frantic, yet focused, frisson, bringing a surge of dopamine as limbs my stretched, popped, flailed and found purpose. 

I was transported by the music, whether it was the smooth alure of a vocal ballad, the friendly twang of folk guitar, the nostalgic strum of a pop-rock anthem, the infectious drum-beat of an indigenous tune or the gut-punching drop of bass in a euphoric house track. 

I was transported to my younger days, through my regrets, my turning points, my futile attempts to move seductively across one-too-many sticky dancefloors. To my childhood dance school, where I wasn’t good enough to make the eisteddfods with the more athletic, more popular girls. I was returned to an early embrace with my husband. Our kiss, beneath the cover of darkness and a booming beat, that I’d longed for, but thought would never come. 

I moved through my grief for my unrealised self. Through the pain and shame of self-censure, through that nagging want to be different. Through decades of insecurity and that all-too-frequent fear of being judged. 

I arrived, right then in the thrum of that room, enveloped by the music and at a thrillingly unfamiliar place. A place where it was okay to let go. Okay to let my deepest emotions rush from my body through movement. It was a place that had always seemed just beyond my reach. 

A place where it was – finally – okay to shine.

It was the purest form of joy. Not the guilt-tinged joy that comes with superficial pleasure, or the obligatory joy that comes with meeting the expectations of others. It wasn’t the intoxicated or synthetic joy that often enhanced a rising beat during the clubbing and festival-going days of my twenties. It was a joy from deep in my soul. I was uncovered, unbridled and oh-so-free. 

A taste of this feeling over the past few months has spurred me to integrate dance into my life. In a dance/yoga course of a Monday night, I’ve gone from ‘dance mum’, to ‘dancing mum’, experimenting with styles including African, contemporary, RnB/hip-hop, jazz and salsa. In contrast to the classes of my childhood, we’ve been encouraged to leave our monkey minds at the door and just express ourselves, rather than obsessing about the precision of the steps or how we look. No mirrors, just a safe space to swirl and flow.

I’ve found myself dancing around my kitchen, pouring passionate movement into meals (yep, spills happen). I’ve pimped up our morning routine by having Miss 5 and Miss 8 dance their way through their morning tasks (getting dressed is actually faster, and way more fun, when dancing to their favourite tunes – time limits set by where the song ends). 

I’ve stopped passing time on the sidelines of my daughters’ jazz class, instead following along from my seat; examining their beaming faces and feeling their fun (while attempting to commit the steps to memory, for pre-concert practice). I grin in camaraderie with other parents, as they find joy in bopping along as their little ones are swept up, elated, in the music and the moves.  

I’ve free-danced at sunset on North Broulee Beach, honey-coloured light on my face and a warm breeze on my skin. I’ve felt safe among a group of people bound by a want to just dance, with the sand between our toes. I’ve caught sight of my neighbours walking their dogs, unable, or unwilling, to resist the urge to bounce along to the beat. 

Through my recent journey back to dance, I’ve reflected on how I’m relating to it differently in mid-life. I’ve had a lifelong passion for music and dance and it’s often been transcendent. It’s helped me, like nothing else, feel completely in the moment. Or, it’s transported me to another time in my life when I was completely in the moment. What happens when you jig to a tune performed at Big Day Out 2002? You’re right back in that mosh pit – there and only there. I’ve had countless sublime moments in clubs, festival boiler-rooms and gigs. If I’m honest, those highs were rarely sober. 

But it’s not just a changed lifestyle or the fact that the years have marched on. Something deeper is different. Through those fancy-free, kid-free days of sweaty there-is-nowhere-but-here-right-now boogeying, my objective was to – like Daft Punk says – lose myself to dance. Recently, I’ve been able to find myself. It’s not only dance that’s taking me there – yoga, meditation and various pursuits of self-development are playing a part. There are no mirrors in that Monday-night dance studio, but unflinching self-reflection can be a whole lot more confronting. So, I’m dancing through the fear. Throwing off those long-held physical shackles. Shackles that tightened so gradually through adulthood, I wasn’t fully aware of them. 

Dance has shaken up my psyche and polished my sparkle. I’m awkward as ever, and it’s finally okay. 

While your body moves; while your gut seeks that beat; while your vitality bubbles away, not far beneath the surface, I’d like to extend an invitation: find yourself in dance. May you expand, may you bop, may you twirl. 

May you shine – just as you were destined to. 

Opportunities to dance in the Batemans Bay region include Soul Tribe’s quarterly retreats; Ecstatic Dance with Clare + Kelly (indoor and outdoor) and Monday night dance/yoga at the Beach Road studio (7 – 8.30pm) with Clare + Leah. Or, in your kitchen. 

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