There’s a story about a conversation overheard by the great scholar of mythology, Joseph Campbell, that he recorded in the book The Power of Myth. Campbell was at an international conference on religion in Tokyo when he heard a western sociologist telling a Shinto priest, “You know, I have now been to a number of these Shinto shrines and I have seen quite a few rites, and I have read about it, thought about it; but you know, I don’t get the ideology. I don’t get your theology.”

The Shinto priest shook his head and said, “We do not have ideology. We do not have theology. We dance.”

I had this quote on my mind last weekend when I attended Michigan YogaFest, a four day gathering of yoga practitioners, teachers, and enthusiasts from all around the state at the Song of the Morning retreat center and ashram. Camping and hiking trails, beautiful scenery, next to no cell service, and incredible people coming together to encourage spiritual renewal and growth, made for an incredibly sweet weekend. When like-minded and good intentioned people come together to heal and celebrate, something magical always happens-- but one experience that left a special impact on me was my experience at a Conscious Dance workshop.

Conscious Dance, sometimes called Ecstatic Dance, is a growing movement that explores the possibilities of movement and dance as a meditation. Dancers are set free to move however they feel they need to, and express whatever they need to express. The results are often joyous, sometimes cathartic, and always deeply emotional, coming from a place that rarely sees the light of day in normal social situations.

I had been to an event like this before, in a small yoga studio near my town, but it was different than at YogaFest. We had a group of about 15 people, many of whom I knew personally, in a small, indoor, intimate environment. It was easy not to feel judged there. But in the open, with about 30 people, with a bunch of strangers? This was a challenge.

I stared at the crowd of strangers, sweaty from a day of outdoor arm balances and sun salutations and toes dusty from three days of walking barefoot. A charming hipster couple facilitated the class, a bright eyed young woman, assisted by her boyfriend, who sported impressive, 19^th century apothecary level facial hair. She instructed us to form a circle and set out our intention for the practice, something we wanted to manifest into our lives through the dance meditation. I had no idea what my intention would be. How could dancing bring an "intention" into the universe? How the hell does that even work? Well, I decided I’d better think of one soon, because the rest of the group was, quite literally, dancing off without me.

The rest of the experience was extremely uncomfortable. I watched the other participants twirling and kicking and boogeying with abandon as they rocked out to EDM, Bhangara, and God knows what else. People jumped up in the air, twisted down to the ground, swung on each others arms, and in some cases, danced right out of the tent and into the surrounding hillside. The music mixing was pretty cool; I’ve never been one for those genres, but I must admit, this was pretty sweet. Despite this, I couldn’t seem to get on the ecstatic vibe everyone else was experiencing. Everyone was having so much fun, but I just couldn't get to a place where I was comfortable to join in. I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “What am I doing here?” I decided to abort the mission. I gave the instructor a quick goodbye and a hug, and went to check out the music in the stage tent.

I met up with the facilitator, whose name turned out to be Carla, the next day when I saw her doing hoop tricks near the festival common area. We had been in a Chinese Herbalism workshop that afternoon, and I was saying that I remained a big skeptical about the whole thing.

She shook her head with a smile, “It’s magic” she told me, tossing the hoop effortlessly into the air and catching it, “You just gotta trust. That’s why we go to events like this: to let our inhibitions go and trust more.”

“You just gotta trust.” I wasn't exactly prepared to "just trust" by buying herbal medicine, but as far as dance meditation went, maybe that was the secret.

(Taken at the YogaFest Friday night drum circle)

On the last day there was another dance workshop, the final workshop of the festival. I decided to go, but I was having some second thoughts. I walked towards the tent and saw the group, smaller than the first one, meditating together. I walked passed.

As I went further down the trail into the forest, I found myself in a weird, frustrating dialogue all over a stupid workshop. I mean, there will be other opportunities to dance, right? “If I go in” I thought, “I could be really uncomfortable. If I go away, I could miss out on something really cool.” I took another look and saw that everyone was dancing just as crazily as the other night and having just as much fun. I remembered what Carla had said to me earlier, “You just gotta trust.” I took a deep exhale, “Screw it.” I strode towards the tent, slipped off my shoes, and joined in.

In Shinto mythology there’s a story about how when the Storm god assaulted and offended the Sun goddess, she became so despondent that she shut herself up in a cave and covered the world with cold and darkness. None of the other gods could figure out a solution until the goddess of Dawn stood on top of an upturned washtub and began a wild, free, raucous dance. This sight cause all the assembled gods to laugh uproariously, which attracted the Sun goddess out of the cave, and to take her place in the heavens once more.

(the Dawn goddess dancing)

Dancing with my fellow festival goers on that balmy Sunday morning, I think I began to feel what the Dawn goddess felt: an uninhibited joy and exuberance, a sheer, unironic, unrepressed delight that I’d only felt when I was a kid. As I turned, grooved, clapped, smiled, and laughed with my fellow dancers it was as if we were building our own little community of people who were only there to express and have a good time. Was it out of my comfort zone? Yeah. Was it bizarre and new agey to the max? You betcha. Was it fun? Oh, hell yes it was.

After the dancing portion of the event, we were instructed to find a partner. “Oh, God, here we go” went the voice in my head as I began having flashbacks of awkward, high school drama class improv games. My partner ended up being Carla. “Notice this person staring back at you” said the instructor, “and get all curious about their face.”

Curious about her face? What does that even mean? What was there to be curious about?! “Yup.” I thought to myself, “that’s a face, alright. Have one myself, in fact.” I giggled and looked away as Carla smiled and got all curious in my face. I was blushing like a schoolgirl. The instructor then said something like, “Now look into the person’s eyes. Send them your energy. Accept that person for their authentic self.”

I felt something change. As I stared into the eyes of a person with whom I’d had about five minutes total of conversation time, I felt like I wasn’t trying to do anything. We’re always trying to do something when we interact with people, to impress, to amuse, to make friends, but here I didn’t have to try. I got to just be. To present myself as I was without any social pretense, and without saying a word. It felt amazing. “Thank this person for their energy” said the instructor.

I embraced Carla with all my heart, “You’re so cool!”

She laughed and replied, “You’re so cool!” For all the discomfort of getting curious about each others faces, I made a new friend that day. That was really nice.

I think, like the Sun goddess, we all feel trapped in a cave sometimes, even though we may not realize it. Maybe for some, it may take presenting your authentic self, without pretense, and dancing like the goddess of the Dawn, to get us out. I must say, Ecstatic Dance has a new convert, and as it grows across the world, I hope that it gets more. It’ll get us all dancing, and maybe it’ll help get us all authentic as well.