Last night I went dancing at a studio space in west Berkeley, where a group hosts a weekly dance party to the sounds of world beat, new age, music from around the world including Indian, Middle Eastern, Brazilian, etc. and other really danceable grooves. The crowd usually numbers around 50, who get barefoot and express themselves in any number of ways: yoga, running around the room, vocalizing along with the music, swinging like loose elephants, lying down in the middle of the floor, sitting in lotus posture, to more traditional forms of club style dancing, oh, and lots of contact improv. The latter I was quite unfamiliar with until attending a similar night called Dance Planet in Santa Cruz. Contact improv involves one or more partners with whom you make contact, and share body weight for support in any number of movements. I got a quick lesson from a righteous sister named Zahara which started with us standing, then her kneeling in a "tabletop" position and me rolling across her back and sliding off of her. It's lots of fun and seems to make for great bonding experienes among the participants. There are lots of contact improv classes in the East Bay and city (esp. a space at 848 Divisadero, or "848" for short).
So anyway, I missed this utterly fun event last week, much to my chagrin, and was not to miss it last night! Upon arrival I find the power is out, and quickly learn that earlier in the evening someone drove into a light pole (ouch!), knocking out power for the entire block. Not to be dissuaged from dancing, someone ran home and got lots of candles, drums, frame drums, tambourines, and rattles, so by the time I arrived the space was softly lit with the pulsing sounds of great drumming! At first I was bummed by the lack of power, which quickly faded as I realized deep within that there was more power in the room now than when we'd previously had electricity!!
The drumming created the ultimate dance and movement space, and everyone was participating in their own way, whether solo or in groups. I began to become absorbed in the really wonderful atmosphere, and let myself trance out and sink into the rhythm of my own body. It became very apparent that Breema dancing is very easy and fun, so leaping around and doing yoga and self Breema and dancing like a primal tribesman was quite the norm for the group.
Soon after we settled down and came into a large group circle for announcements and sharing - something that usually happens there but has not in the last few times I've been. Lots of announcements about bodywork, contact improv, musical performances, open mic nights, and other avenues of creative expression. One lady started a backrub/touching vibe that spread over to me which I passed along, and fairly soon I could feel the rubbing vibe (heh heh ooh kinky) running around the room. It was so heartening to hear the kind of openness and progressive work that goes on here, and realize that all these beautiful people have hope for our often dismal and crazy world.
Upon finishing the announcements, one brother motioned that we have 10 to 15 minutes of silence, and dance and move to that silence. Which reminds me of Wednesday's Chronicle article/interview with Marcel Marceau, who is currently on a San Francisco performance engagement, about bringing silence to America. So a brother named Astarius had arrived with the absolute biggest didgeridu I've ever seen, and proceeded to give the whole room a sound healing, prefaced and postscripted with his amazing poetry, and then we became silent.
The woman (Zahara, whom I mentioned earlier) to whom I had passed along the rubbing vibe turned to face me, smiling, and our palms met. For what seemed like days we sat and mimed each other, rolling our heads and leaning into each other, grasping and rubbing and massaging each other. We would lock arms and legs and lay backward, energy surges racing between us and out to the universe, dancing with everyone and simultaneously making love to each one in the room, then reentering to express itself to us again in new and subtle ways, hold court with us, learn from us, then surge out into the room to share that newness with everyone again in the same cycle - or spiral, rather. It was so amazing and healing, and issues around my own sexuality came racing forward, reminding me to find my comfort zones but not shut down when the energy I experience becomes intense.. to be accepting, to bask in that etheric magick regardless of the source.
After a long silence, and an indescribable creative journey between Zahara and myself, someone started strumming simple chords on a guitar which brought us out of the silence, with many people sharing their voices and singing and toning along with the guitar. Toning was the word Zahara introduced as singing out notes, making vocal percussion, improv humming, and otherwise creativity using the voice. This is something I've been wanting to do for a long time, and have new inspiration to seek out folks around town to just get together and "voice-jam" and have fun with it.
There was more dancing and drumming, and then we circled together as a group. One brother taught us a simple chant "Ki ley ley, ki ley ley, abo abo ki ley ley" which we sang continuously as we began what seemed like the Spiral Dance. Eventually the circle morphed into an amoeba, ending with us all getting entangled in each other (but still holding hands), chanting and singing and hugging and rubbing and smiling profusely! The brother who called the circle together exclaimed "Untangle!" and we tried to undo ourselves to reform the original circle. We almost got there, except for one kink on the far side of the circle. In trying to undo them, we all ended up together in the center, ensnared again, laughing. We broke the circle, and most folks stayed in the center hugging, kissing, rubbing, and massaging each other. I was completely overtaken by the number of complete strangers who expressed their affections toward me.
A smaller circle formed to share songs and chants with the music of a guitar and the beats of a doumbek. I started to leave, as I was tired, and felt like I was sitting on the outskirts of the group.. but was blessed by remaining til the end. Our singing changed into noise making, the likes of which I cannot describe here, but I closed my eyes and felt like I was deep within a jungle... we SOUNDED like a JUNGLE... the bugs, the monkeys, the rushing water, the wind... we SOUNDED like a JUNGLE... I felt some ancient coding within me re-express itself, and began the cry of a chimpanzee, the wispy rattling of a rain stick, the blowing of a soft wind... the jungle became very airy with lots of sighing.. one group changed into laughter, different pitches and intensities and characteristics of laughter.. our mutual noisemaking brought us to the cosmic vibrational "om" with everyone expressing that sound for themselves, which became a tasty and joyful orchestra teeming with life. We closed the evening and helped carry all the toys from the room, clean up, and say our goodbyes. Several folks went onto a community hot tub in South Berkeley; I retired to a restful sleep. Everyone seemed energized despite the late hour.
I hope that I've found a new extension to my family.
(posted by Shaggy, 7/24/99)