I take a deep breath, rooting my bare feet into the ground and filling my lungs with air as I wait for the music to arrive. That first beat hits my ears and before I know it, I’m flying.

It feels so good to move. I stretch my arms long and extend through the tips of my toes, filling this space with every last ounce of my being. I move with the music, letting it carry me through the room—reaching, jumping and turning my way through the nooks and crannies of this song; experimenting with different ways to shape the sounds that are filling my ears.

Yes, I am alone in this empty room, but I’ve never felt so full again. It’s just me, this song and my humanity. I completely let go, allowing this song to pull out every feeling and thought from within me. I breathe in and breathe out, sculpting motions in sync with my inhales and exhales.

Here, in this empty room, I can feel. Every worry in the world, every painful moment, vanishes just for the duration of this song. Tears translate into beautiful lines; anger manifests itself as staccato movements.

Here, in this empty room, I can heal. Deep breaths bring in new energy; big exhales release my troubles. I extend my body further and further, reaching my limbs as long as I can—reaching to not only fill the emptiness of this room but to fill the emptiness in myself.

Here, in this empty room, I can love. I fall in love with every lyric, every gorgeous sound that guides my body through this dance. With every path my feet take, with every powerful line I make, I can start to feel the wholeness that I’ve been missing, and I know I’ve found myself again.