I hadn’t a clue what to expect, but I kind of like adventuring into new experiences this way. Ecstatic dance was something I only heard of in the metaphysical/holistic wellness space. I guess I envisioned hippies spinning about propelled by chimes and rhythmic drums. I was completely game for such an event; however, my ecstatic dance discovery was anything but hokey.
On a chilly Sunday morning in January, I drove myself to an enormous church in a suburb of Denver. A small, colorful flyer with a dancer alerted me to the lower entry door. The scent of freshly waxed grade school floors invaded my nostrils as a bearded 20-something welcomed me with a warm smile. He asked if it was my first time and I proudly smiled yes. I paid my $20 fee, and he pointed me to where I could hang my jacket and store my stuff. The coat rack was already full and dozens of shoes were neatly lined in front. I followed suit and glided my socked feet into the wide open room where 20 (or more) people were lounging about on yoga mats and/or blankets. It was a large yet inviting space and I was brimming with curiosity.
The session began with an hour of somatic movement, like a yoga class with the encouragement of “exploring the space around you.” Never in my wildest daydreams had I thought I’d find myself rolling happily on the floor of a church annex at 50 years old. Yet there I was, unabashedly flailing about, stretching myself beyond expectation. And the music hadn’t even begun.
As the stretching ended, a soft pulsating rhythm began to fill the room. Mats were quickly rolled up, blankets stored away. The floor a blank canvas full of anticipation. The DJ knew how to gradually build intensity as more dancers trickled in. Within the hour, there were more than 50 individuals, of all ages and walks of life, vibing to the beats.
I found an open space on the edge of the room, not too close to anyone, but not too far, either. Of course, I initially spent more time observing those who were ecstatically dialed-in. They danced their entire bodies without a care in the world. No touching, but occasionally close. Nothing intimate in nature, but more energetically connected. A sharing of eye contact, positivity and smiles.
The music began to speak directly to my body, urging it to move before my mind could fully comprehend what was happening. The hum of it deep in my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment to let it wash over me. The instructions, given before the music began, were simple: no talking, no judgment, just movement. “Let your body do what it wants.”
I did as I was instructed, and every part of myself elevated. As the tempo shifted, I found myself moving with the crowd more, my space shrinking as I got caught up in the collective energy. There was something magical about dancing in a group without saying a word—without needing to explain anything. We were all simply communicating through movement.
There were moments of pure joy—eyes closed, hands high twirling, letting go of any reservation I had. And then there were moments of deep vulnerability, where I felt the music shake loose something hidden deep within. Maybe it was grief or anger… maybe sadness? Whatever it was, I released it through movements and tears.
Two hours of different tempos of dance (along with water and chill breaks) had flown by. As the class came to an end, we gathered in a circle, holding space for each other. A quiet reverence filled the room. I could feel a connection with these strangers, even though I hadn’t spoken a single word to any of them.
I left the experience feeling lighter, as if something was released I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto. The physical and emotional detoxification was freeing. It was like I had stepped into a new version of myself, a version that was unafraid to move, to feel, to simply be. I didn’t need to understand all of it, but I knew I had just experienced something beautiful.
