Wild

by Helen

I remember and my body feels that sense again as I feel the shape of the word in my mouth. I remember how it was that first few months. I don’t remember how it happened, but the why of it, yes. My body felt torn. Something essential had been ripped out. My blood moved in my body in different ways, sometimes erratic, sometimes too fast and sometimes so slown down I thought I might also die. And I started to go to the dancing classes of Biodanza.

It was like being plugged into an electric socket when the music started. My body rippled and dragged, pulled and tugged, flung in the space. The act of walking, taking up all the space I want. In the beginning at the start of every class – and little by little over the weeks – I found the freedom and recovered the space around me in the walking.

The music drew out of me the wildness. I could throw my body, shriek my limbs, howl my back and shoulders and fly, twitch, jerk, furiously hissing the raging sense of being caged, flying out from the boundaries of sense and reaching out to the dying with the flying of my body and spirit over the boundaries and beyond all the little picket fences of custom, kindness and social obligations. To swing in the air, pound the ground, stamp out the wilding of spirit.

When the music stopped, my body fell, unplugged, and the sense of lightness and ease moved across my
skin and through all my muscles. This dancing was a boon to me for months, and helped me hold steady in the endless transactions in offices, the continual searching for papers