Resonance

Whenever I pull up this image from the 2014 Dancing Freedom Facilitator Training in Bali, my entire body melts. Gravity pulls my weight to the floor. My shoulders relax and my neck loosens. Sometimes, even, I hear myself exhale an audible "aahhhhhh". By simply beholding this image & taking it in, my body remembers, responds, relaxes.

Resonance

My body knows this place. This sweet connection with Self & other that organically arises after dancing through layer upon layer of restriction (and striving)...to simply arrive... vulnerable and willing, leaning into the moment. Leaning in and listening. Listening and leaning in. This is the sweet interplay that often leads me to magic. To freedom. Expansion. Authenticity. Co-creation. And once we taste whatever sensations arise, once we feel it in our bones & move it through every layer of our being, our body knows. YOUR body knows. 

The dance fortifies my spirit in a way that no other practice can by strengthening my capacity to stand in the center of my experience, just as it is, and from this place of immediate and unfiltered “into-me-see”, encounter a level of resonance with “other” that is beyond anything I can imagine on my own.
— Teresa Reid

I am grateful for these encounters on the dance floor AND I want to experience this level of attunement in all realms of my living. Every interaction, every relationship, every point of connection ~ from the familiar face in front of me to the stranger on the street ~ an opportunity, a point of reference, a place to practice slowing down, paying attention, tuning in and attuning to "other"; person, animal, tree, etc. One of my favorite places to practice off the dance floor is in nature. It is where I feel most clear and alive. Most aware and perceptive. Free from distraction and fully supported. 

Tuning in I pay attention to where I am drawn and trust where my body leads me. I notice what guides me; whether it's a sense of safety, a spark of beauty, a sound or body sensation. It is a practice of listening and trusting, observing how each choice tells me something about myself in relation to the space I inhabit. Visually taking in the field around me, I notice where my eye is drawn and any shifts or changes within my body. Taking my space I close my eyes  and ground my

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awareness, anchoring my prayer to connect with the elemental field, to be welcomed into deeper intimacy with the natural world, to attune to it's rhythms. 

The blindfold is my ally and when placed over my eyes marks the crossing over from external to internal realms. Removing sight heightens internal perception of my inner landscape; body sensations, emotional and mental currents, energetic flows. It centers me into my own experience, which simultaneously intensifies my ability to feel, relate and create with another.

Slowly I invite my attention to the earth and begin to sense into my relationship with the soil, the rocks, the vast field of support beneath me. How am I being informed? I tune into my skin and the air around me, the sounds that are part of the forest, this music that moves me. How am I relating? With each perception and sensation, each movement and response, I lean in. Interact with the field of which I am an active part.

Perceive and move. Take in and respond. There is a lesson on the wind. A message carried by the river. Can we stay open and receptive? Pay attention and listen? Can we lean into resonance with other ~ from the familiar to the unfamiliar ~ to find resonance and deeper connection with all of life?

I am practicing. Again and again.

More times than not I discover it on the dance floor or in the natural world, but I choose to believe it can exist anywhere, at any moment, within the context of all my relations. I choose to believe in the potential of connection. In the power of attunement to self and other. I choose to let life effect me. To change me. With all of it's discoveries and growth, joy and grief, beauty and chaos, I choose to listen and lean in to my life.

And...I hope you will lean into yours.

With love, Teresa