TALES FROM THE DANCE JAM. Volume #3
After reading all these wonderful tales of the Berkley Dance Jam, I decided that I had to experience this magical energy for myself. Shaggy sent me directions and a note that he might be there with some of the students from his Breema intensive. Last week, on August Sixth, I made the trek to that energetic city of freedom.
I arrived at the brick warehouse at 9:00 PM, puzzling my way through Berkeley's tree-lined avenues. Upon entering the cavernous hallways, I first nervously made my way to the bathroom. What kind of people showed up at these events? Would I find this a magical place of free expression, as Shaggy described? I washed my hands and face in the long metal sink and drew out my favorite sarong, a deep, rich black-red cloth covered with moons and stars.
The pulsing beat from the dance-floor drew me down the twisting halls until I arrived at the entrance to the room. Shoes were stacked up by the door, and a box of home-grown organic plums and apricots stood by the money-box with a sign that said: "Free. Eat me."
I deposited the entrance fee and my Birkenstocks and moved into the hardwood floor of the dance-space. Mirrors lined one wall. People were doing stretches and yoga poses off to my right, and straight ahead about 30 people were dancing wildly to the world beat.
I stretched. Pulled myself into a headstand. Slowly and gracefully fell through a backwards roll and onto the dance floor. The range and variety of people and movements I saw within each song was far different than anything that I'd ever experienced in a dance club before. Some people moved with slow languid movements, others jumped about on one foot. Some danced like tribal men leaping into the air, while others were mimes or still-life paintings.
Here was a man dancing around with glee in only Speedo's and body paint, while others wore sarongs or jogging shorts, jeans or bright ethnic clothing. As the night went on I was stunned to see many women taking off their shirts and bras do dance with only their hair whipping around them as a veil. I giggled after my initial surprise, quickly sensing how natural it felt, how unnoticeable after a moment This was a place of complete freedom to be who you were without fear.
I opened up to be *myself* without fear. I felt all inhibition drop away. I became what I have slowly grown towards in my normal life - a shining wolf at the top of a hill: bold, fearless, playful. I howled. I danced around with the energy of a wild man, with the grace of a martial artist, with the infinite slowness of Tai Chi.
Sometimes I commanded the dance floor while others parted aside and watched, sometimes slunk through it secretly like a hunting cat. I inspired several dance movements that spread through the room, and took up many others that I had never seen before with delight. I began a long bout of body percussion, playing bellady against the skin and voice of my body (my thighs still harbor the most amazing bruises like galaxies) others joined in and tried to keep time. A woman taught me the intricacies of belly dancing with her eyes and her hips.
Over the course of the evening several lovely boys, men and women danced and laughed with me in this space and afterwards told me their names with a squeeze of the hand that often indicated connection, delight, and smiling sexual interest. I grinned joyfully and sighed, wondering if Shaggy would make his appearance.
I saw a *very* yummy nineteen year old boy with long blond hair and an angelic face, move into the dance floor and begin to groove shyly. He donned a red bandanna to keep his hair back and once he closed his eyes he began to dance boldly in his own world.
The music stopped momentarily and a circle was called for announcements. The issue was brought up regarding those interested in having more "power outage" Jams with live music provided by the crowd. Several people were interested in having them at least once a month or every few months. When general announcements rolled around, I quickly raised my hand.
"Hi, my name's Chris," I said, "I'm from Sacramento and I'm here tonight because a friend that I met on the Internet, Shaggy, has been writing e-mail reports about these amazing dance jams. I just wanted to say that I am having more fun dancing than I have ever had in my life. The only thing approaching this is when I do free-form dance in my Aikido school. There is something very mystical and free happening here and I just wanted to say thank you. This is worth every moment of the trip."
There was much applause and welcomes, and many people came up to talk to me right after. The first was an older woman who had been sitting right next to me who told me she had been admiring my energetic dancing. I found out that she and her three friends were from Canada, here to take the Breema intensive workshop. "Oh really?!" I said. " You must know Shaggy then, he's in your class." "Shaggy" she mused, thinking. I said "You probably know him by his real name, (which had completely fled my mind at the moment). He's about my age, tall and thin like me and has long blond hair. "Oh, of course," she said smiling suddenly, " you mean John. I thought I felt a connection. You remind me so much of him." "Wow," I said, "thanks. You're the second person to say that, and I haven't even met the guy yet. I guess that means you don't see him here." I had been so involved with dance and rapture that I had made only a cursory attempt at watching for long blond hair so far. "No, not here. She said, but I just spent time with him a few hours ago in the Breema workshop. Some of us saw the dance-jam info posted there on a card and decided to come. We're having such a wonderful time."
A long haired, bearded guy with pagan energy and several piercing came up and introduced himself. He had the coolest radical fairy name and I wish I could remember what it was. "Did you say you knew Shaggy?" He said. "I subscribe to his list too. I drove all the way up from Santa Cruz to see this shindig and I'm having the time of my life."
The dance energy started to pound the floor again and the place began to pack. It was hot inside, even with the little fan at the back-door and I was ready to throw out some real energy now. I went to the back room and stripped out of my jean-shorts and shirt next to a long-haired guy doing meditation. I tucked them away, swimming gracefully back onto the dance-floor, naked but for my fave scooby-doo boxers and the short flowing sarong flowing about my waist like liquid night. I danced and sweated up a storm. In the dim light, my long hair was the color of a raven and I felt it sweep about me like spreading wings. From outside myself I watched in amazement, me -- this boy who a few years ago would have been too shy and awkward to step onto a dance floor - sweep around it as if I owned it, spin into twirls and dive (when space allowed) into flying headlong forward rolls. I was on fire.
At one moment of exhaustion a funny thing happened. I danced off to the fan and found a group of five or six women cooling themselves by it. They all began to whistle and shout that they were my "fan"-club (the pun was intended I'm sure.) and I preceded to sway my hips and dance a wild set before them while they cheered me on. The DJ's right next to them clapped and took notice, transitioning to a new song for me. My own fearlessness amazed me, and I once again felt that sensation of before and after from the silent, book reading, wall-flower child I once was. And still, in every *good* way, am. After that I sat and became a silent and shadowy, soaking in the acts of others, simply meditating and watching for the longest time.
I headed off for drink of water and while sipping it (Berkley tap-water never tasted so good). A young dark haired woman came up and introduced herself. "I'm Zahara," she said, "did you say you knew Shaggy? We trade bodywork and dance here sometimes." We spoke for a moment and then suddenly she fell silent mid-sentence, looking deeply into my eyes. There was a long pause and spontaneously she put her hands up. My own reached up to meet them. Right there in the water room we began to dance, twisting slowly about, palms always touching. We laughed like children and wound our way onto the dance floor, never stopping, not for a good hour of improv dance-play.
I told Zahara and others that I talked to toward the end of the evening that this place was every bit as mystical as Shaggy had described. "I'm definitely going to come back." I said. " I'll be back when I get more comfortable riding my motorcycle out this way, and I'll have to start finding a place to crash. It's a short trip but it's a long ways back after an exhausting night". From that I learned that most of the people commuted regularly to be here, sometimes long distances. I found out that Dance Jam has been happening every Friday night for the past 25 years, ever since the glory days of the Berkley movements and never- ending through now. I found many joyful secrets. Ones that I won't tell. Ones I hope you discover for yourself.
(posted by Chris, 8/11/99)