_Spirit and soul are rarely seen together, like Clark Kent and Superman.  Yet there seems to be an invisible wormhole where they meet in the same universe.  I feel it in Martin Prechtel’s book, “The Disobedient Daughter of the Sun” when he describes how fire is kindled from “the embers of the stars.”  When the illusive great Mystery finds embodiment in the shapeshifting miraculous Earth, I believe, spirit and soul collapse into one.  Or perhaps, it is their proximity that sparks the flame into being. 

And lives to tell about it.  I believe she brings up some very important and often neglected points about our distorted perception of nature.  It has really challenged my understanding of the meaning of the word, "trauma."  Is trauma, then, anything that shatters our illusion of control and superiority in the world? 

http://www.utne.com/2000-07-01/being-prey.aspx

Here is an interview from 1990 that is amazingly relevant today.  Hossein Nasr is the author of the famous series, Islam and the West, and is himself a library of knowledge of politics, religion, and spirituality.  My favorite part is when Dr. Nasr describes the "race" between the Muslim world's desire to establish its independence from the West and the coming collapse of Western civilization. 

These are my three favorite speeches from this conference:
Seyyed Mohammed Marandi makes very important points about internalized racism.
I love Vinay Lal's view of "development" as related to temporality.
And Jorge Ishizawa's shares his invaluable experience with the native people of Peru, who diagnosed the Western world as having a "loss of respect."  

This is a ceremony that was performed the day before the prime minister of Australia made an official apology to the Aboriginal people for past wrongs.  I'm so moved by the power of the sounds and images of this video, as if it enacting something deep within me: the wild human entering the world we have come to know as normal and dancing his clear-eyed vision there.  The so-called “modern” ones are left with an unsettling awareness of how alien they have become from their heritage as members of the Earth community.  The indigenous ones place their deep witnessing in the halls of power, like a piece of fact in the middle of a myth, like when they say at the end of a story, “And that’s why rabbits have short tails.”  Their dance brings reality to the fable of foreign invasion and domination.   

In recent weeks I find myself again uneasy about the escalated tensions with Iran, my motherland.  For the moment, the one sane thought I can manage is that someday, an apology, a healing dance, a face-to-face awareness will come to pass.  No one will hide from the past wrongs that were committed from weak parts of our collective psyche.  The wild indigenous wisdom of the Iranian land will rise up and sing out loudly in the middle of that evil eye that was cast, dissolving the poison, like an island being covered by water.  The water that flows is the recognition of our commonality and need of each other to be whole. 

I once went to a Flamenco dance performance of a traveling troupe from Spain at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival.  I was very affected by the performance of one of the female dancers who appeared to take a deliberate dive into trance, riding the rhythm of her feet into a place beyond my reach.  After the performance, a male percussionist who could speak English was answering questions from the crowd, so I asked, “Do the dancers ever go into trance or interact with spirits when dancing?”  The man paused, looked in my eyes, and finally said with a slight smile and a deepened voice, “We don’t talk about that."   

I love what someone has posted on Wikipedia about the concept of Duende in Flamenco, which I found to be a breath-quickening treatise on how to wield the power of the art:

Duende

El duende is the spirit of evocation. It comes from inside as a physical /emotional response to music. It is what gives you chills, makes you smile or cry as a bodily reaction to an artistic performance that is particularly expressive. Folk music in general, especially flamenco, tends to embody an authenticity that comes from a people whose culture is enriched by diaspora and hardship; vox populi, the human condition of joys and sorrows. Drawing on popular usage and Spanish folklore, Federico García Lorca first developed the aesthetics of Duende in a lecture he gave in Buenos Aires in 1933, "Juego y teoria del duende" ("Play and Theory of the Duende").

According to Christopher Maurer, editor of "In Search of Duende", at least four elements can be isolated in Lorca's vision of duende: irrationality, earthiness, a heightened awareness of death, and a dash of the diabolical. The duende is a demonic earth spirit who helps the artist see the limitations of intelligence, reminding him that "ants could eat him or that a great arsenic lobster could fall suddenly on his head"; who brings the artist face-to-face with death, and who helps him create and communicate memorable, spine-chilling art. The duende is seen, in Lorca's lecture, as an alternative to style, to mere virtuosity, to God-given grace and charm (what Spaniards call "angel"), and to the classical, artistic norms dictated by the muse. Not that the artist simply surrenders to the duende; he or she has to battle it skillfully, "on the rim of the well", in "hand-to-hand combat". To a higher degree than the muse or the angel, the duende seizes not only the performer but also the audience, creating conditions where art can be understood spontaneously with little, if any, conscious effort. It is, in Lorca's words, "a sort of corkscrew that can get art into the sensibility of an audience... the very dearest thing that life can offer the intellectual." The critic Brook Zern has written, of a performance of someone with duende, "it dilates the mind's eye, so that the intensity becomes almost unendurable... There is a quality of first-timeness, of reality so heightened and exaggerated that it becomes unreal...".

Lorca writes: "The duende, then, is a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. I have heard an old maestro of the guitar say, 'The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet.' Meaning this: it is not a question of ability, but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation.". He suggests, "everything that has black sounds in it, has duende. [i.e. emotional 'darkness'] [...] This 'mysterious power which everyone senses and no philosopher explains' is, in sum, the spirit of the earth, the same duende that scorched the heart of Nietzsche, who searched in vain for its external forms on the Rialto Bridge and in the music of Bizet, without knowing that the duende he was pursuing had leaped straight from the Greek mysteries to the dancers of Cadiz or the beheaded, Dionysian scream of Silverio's siguiriya." [...] "The duende's arrival always means a radical change in forms. It brings to old planes unknown feelings of freshness, with the quality of something newly created, like a miracle, and it produces an almost religious enthusiasm." [...] "All arts are capable of duende, but where it finds greatest range, naturally, is in music, dance, and spoken poetry, for these arts require a living body to interpret them, being forms that are born, die, and open their contours against an exact present."

The Romani people have collected so many different religious and ethnic influences, it is not surprising that their artistic heritage is densely layered and energetically evolved.  Spirit and soul, grief and pride, earth and god, human and animal, are all superimposed upon each other in the dance of flames at the heart of Flamenco.  I pray that the power of traditional arts finds a way to keep flowing from the elders to the youth so their medicine won’t be lost from the earth. 

The movement of our bodies that we call dance is one of the most vital powers in our possession.  In my twenty-year exploration of dance as a spiritual practice, I have found that there are many different orientations or pathways through which distinct forms of power can flow.  Categorizing these orientations can help to clarify an intention from which to start a dance session, or it can also serve to inform the process as it is happening.  Quite often, one orientation can lead into another, and sometimes several transfers between orientations will happen within one dance session.  It is most exciting when more than one orientation is involved simultaneously.

Of the nine orientations I have identified, the first three seem to be housed in the underworld: Trance, Expressive, and Physical.  In each of these orientations, the dancer is surrendering to a form of wildness, whether that be the wilds of nature, the wilds of the soul, or the wilds of the human body.  The second three orientations seem more geared toward the middle world: Relational, Social, and Activist.  Here, the dance is an expression of human relationships which brings the dancer into society.  The last three orientations are focused on the upper world, Meditative, Ecstatic, and Mystical.  These three reach toward contact with transcendent, universal, or divine energies culminating in a state of union.

Each of these orientations has a unique destination that results in an all-encompassing transformation of the dancer which corresponds to a complete way of life.  All have specific benefits for the body, the psyche, the soul, human relationships, social wellness, and the relationship between humans and the more-than-human world.  Deepening our experience with each of these orientations can help to strengthen and balance sources of power in life and increase the “range of motion” of one’s consciousness. 

Here are the nine orientations:

UNDERWORLD ORIENTATIONS

Trance
I believe this is the oldest dance orientation, which is still present in cultures that maintain their kinship with the earth, though most people in contemporary Western culture do not possess this relationship.  When the relationship is intact or repaired, trance dance is a direct interaction with nature or nature spirits.  The dancer embodies, communes with, or receives energy from nature for the purpose of cultivating and maintaining that most central relationship in life.  The visions or experiences gained may carry healing power for the dancer, the community, or the earth.
Here are some examples from youtube:

Expressive
In this orientation, the ego accesses the personal underworld and either dialogues with or surrenders to the expression of the individual soul.  The dancer feels the movements to have deep personal meaning, even if they can’t be expressed in words.  This orientation is noticeable for having high drama and emotionality while following an original trajectory or journey through the inner landscape.  Each dance requires a risk to explore some hidden or mysterious corner of the psyche and a commitment to following the thread. 
Examples:

Alembic Ensemble - great video, click on link to see
http://metropolitanvisuals.com/files/Alembic.mov

Flamenco – This clip strikes me as a blend of several orientations, but my attention is primarily drawn to the unique expression of the dancer’s individual essence. 

Physical
Physical dance is any movement practice that focuses on a conversation with the wild body, either with the intention of tuning the instrument or following its natural energetic patterns, with the focus on listening and receiving, not directing.  Practitioners who specialize in this orientation are magnetized by the innate wisdom and guidance available to us through healthy kinesthetic awareness.  I’ve noticed that many dancers begin their practice with a physical orientation to open up the body’s gates and then allow other orientations to emerge.
Examples:

Continuum shadows – This dance also is a blend and has many Expressive features, but when I watch this, I mainly feel the sensory and cellular “mind” being followed, more than any symbolic or soul qualities.  

MIDDLE WORLD ORIENTATIONS

Relational
This category is almost always combined with another orientation through which two or more dancers interact, but the primary focus of the Relational orientation is the dialogue with the other dancer, regardless of the language that is spoken between them.  Movements may be imbued with meaning, much like in Expressive movement orientation, but in Relational movement, dancers merge into one so that the exchanges between them are like different limbs of one organism.  At the height of this form, dancers appear to be telepathic. 
Examples:

Social
I would call any dance that has the primary goal of recreation and fun to be in this orientation.  I include these dances in my list of useful orientations for dance as a spiritual practice because sharing dance in community is a wild way to feel a sense of belonging and connection with a larger group.  Here, the ego is welcome, and dancing for the sake of looking cool or showing off is totally acceptable.  In fact, a little healthy competition is also a celebration of creativity and cultural pride.  The traditional forms of dance may highlight certain shared values in the culture, such as joy, toughness, or sensuality.  Often, this orientation is blended with a bit of the Expressive orientation if the dancer is drawing on her inner world to enliven the dance.  Also, this orientation could trigger an opening into the Ecstatic or Trance orientation, depending on the cultural context or music.
Examples

Activist
As with Relational dance, this orientation usually integrates another orientation as the language through which to communicate.  Activist dance is distinct from other orientations in that the dancer is consciously trying to communicate an important message to her people.  The dancer’s focus is on affecting her audience in a specific way that she hopes will bring about a necessary social adjustment.  The message may be drawn from the desires of the individual dancer’s soul, or the dancer may be able to channel the desires of others whose voices need to be heard.  The dance may offer socially-relevant symbols or themes from the universal unconscious.
Examples:

UPPER WORLD ORIENTATIONS

Meditative
The goal of meditative dance is to achieve a state of balance in the body and mind.  The mover directs and controls the energy, usually with pre-determined forms from ancient schools of wisdom.  The focus is on actively calming or concentrating the mind to express qualities of discipline, harmony, transcendence, or non-attachment.  The ideal state is a merging with the consciousness of the universe, such as enlightenment or the Tao. 
Examples:

Ecstatic
This orientation often looks similar to the Trance orientation from the outside, but it is a unique and distinct category of movement practice.  I consider a dance to be ecstatic when the dancer surrenders to movement so completely that it takes over the mind of the dancer.  It differs from Trance orientation because the focus is not consciously on nature, and the energies that are being received are from a more universal or infinite realm than the soulful and wild energies of the underworld.  Ecstatic dancer dissolves the ego to the point that propriety is lost and noticeably involves a loss of control and a break from social norms of movement.  It can pop out suddenly from Expressive dance when the mover transitions from dancing from the individual soul to “being danced” by something much larger. 
Examples:

Crazy Dancer - In this short clip, many features of Ecstatic dance are present : by-standers are uncomfortable, laughing at him, mimicking; the dancer is somewhat aware of the situation, which momentarily dilutes his intensity, but he is far enough into it that he is unable to stop...

Mystical
Last but not least, Mystical dance is when the soul interacts with Spirit through intimate conversation and dialogue.  The direct exchange with the divine is usually charged with a romantic, sexual, or relational attraction or intimacy.  This form has a wide range of emotional modes within it, such as longing, love, burning, flirtation, etc., and may lead to a state of union if the boundary between lover and beloved becomes blurred, though that is not necessarily the goal.  The dialogue itself is the method through which the dancer is purified and recognizes her place in the cosmos.  This practice enables the dancer to embody a powerful force of love in the world and, at its highest expression, culminates in prophetic or miraculous presence. 
Examples:

I believe it is worthwhile for our society to further explore the power we can access through dance for our personal, societal, and planetary healing.  We need to develop our inner resources to focus and revolutionize traditional methods of activism so that we can innovate forms of authentic protest that honor the dignity of the human animal.  Dance practices bring us in contact with the wild, with the divine, and with other humans in a visceral way that transcends our rational and often limited understanding.  Perhaps we should begin to include our bodies in the conversation about the way to move forward in our world toward greater social and environmental sustainability.  By harnessing the body’s power, I pray we can awaken latent capacities and leverage to fulfill our destiny as a benevolent species on the planet. 

I've been reflecting on a wonderful book called Nature and the Human Soul by Bill Plotkin in which he contends that most humans in contemporary Western culture do not mature into true adulthood.  As I was hiking in Ocala National Forest this past weekend, I came across some hunting dogs whose qualities seemed to mirror human psychological neoteny.  They followed me around for some time, seeming unsure about their humans' instructions, and frequently looked at me with "puppy dog eyes" that seemed to beg for help or affection or both.  I once read that dogs retain certain puppy behaviors into adulthood which their ancestors, the wolves, did not.  I have been wondering if our human evolutionary track is reinforcing a genetic pattern which makes it less common or possible to mature into adulthood, similar to the evolution of dogs from wolves.   I have no idea if this is a useful comparison, but it feels poignant to me, since they have served as our "best friends" and therefore the most intimate non-human relationship in the lives of contemporary Western humans.  Perhaps they are a fitting mirror for our developmental state, since humans have been training them to meet our emotional and survival needs for the past 15,000 years. 

...which leads me to also wonder if the human species could be considered "domesticated" in relation to our wild state.   It's disturbing to read about behaviors associated with animals in captivity (oddly called "stereotypical behaviors"), which seem to parallel our modern mental health disorders, such as aggression, self-injury, depression, etc.  I'm fascinated by the animals (zebras, wild cats, wolves, etc.) and people (like the Hadza of Tanzania) who resist domestication in spite of numerous attempts.  I admire the species who have gone feral, like horses and wild pigs, after long periods of domestication of their ancestors.  Can humans go feral? 

I recently rewatched a favorite movie, "The Secret of Roan Inish," which shows a wide range of characters on the continuum between wild and domesticated, several of whom shift their position during the course of the story.  I found myself so moved by the intimacy between the family and their island of origin, Roan Inish.  One of my favorite scenes is when the selky, a woman who is part seal, puts her baby in a cradle on the sea to be rocked by the waves.  In her gentle gaze, I can imagine what it might be like for a mother to consider nature as one of the primary caregivers for her child. 

What struck me most was the character of the grandmother, who seemed plagued with shame about her kinship with nature, as she repeatedly condemns others for any signs of wildness.  "Superstitious old man!" she complains after her husband tells a story about the importance of giving in to the sea's demands.  She makes dismissive comments about the past, as if the old ways no longer have a place in the world.  "Love of the sea is a sickness, and you'll come to grief for it," she says.  Rather than admit her belief in an ancient story about their family's descent from seals, she says, "There's some as tells it like that," with a troubled look on her face.  And she stands out as the only devout Christian in the story, which strikes me as her way of redeeming herself from her pagan heritage.

But in the end, she leads the family to return to the island to be reunited with her grandson, Jamie, who is living wildly with the seals.  The child is afraid to return to the family, being afraid of humans, but when the seals press him to go, the old grandmother kneels down and calls out, "Come on, Jamie boy."  With her round, heavy body wrapped in her black shawl and dark -colored dress, low down to the ground, I noticed how much she looked like a seal.  And Jamie finally runs to the old woman's arms and gets wrapped up and returned to his human family.  She is the only one whose presence didn't spook Jamie, the only one who could call into that wild world and say something familiar and welcoming to it. 

It brings tears to my eyes to consider how our natural kinship with the earth, while it gets plenty of lip service, is something so shameful in our world that those who have retained the old intimacy are somehow forced into hiding and exile, even from themselves. 

(A few poems I wrote many years back - again, they seem relevant now.)

Hu can keep me company tonight?
Not my bowl of noodles,
Not my Rumi book,
Not my two friends on email,
so far, so crypted,
Not even my music.
Hu will lay over my back and watch
the words I write with this pen,
and smile about my
pacing, stir-crazy restlessness?
Hu will lift me up like a warm, salty ocean
and request my beauty of dancing scales catching the light?
Hu will dance inside me and guide my body
to the next right thing?
Hu will mirror my ego and make space for my love?
Hu will watch over me so I can stop watching myself?

* * * * * * *

Without distractions
let my eyes sink down
into my chest scanning
other chests,
moved only by
the honest value
of the human being.
I will not be
distracted from
seeing you.
No lipstick or
fake laugh
will get me to take
my eyes off
the pure beauty
you were
born into.

In the movement practice Authentic Movement, one person moves, and one person witnesses.  The role of the mover is to follow authentic impulses in the body and move spontaneously with eyes closed.  The role of the witness is to observe open-heartedly and offer complete presence to the mover. 

The role of the witness, in many cases, is considered to be a passive role in this duo.  Just sit and watch, right?  But it is easy to imagine that the mover could be influenced by the nature of the witnessing.  If the mover is witnessed by a parent, the dance may be different than what it would have been if she were witnessed by a lover.  The dance will be different if she is witnessed by someone who she feels can’t understand her than if she is witnessed by someone whom she knows to have greater understanding than she.  The depth of witnessing determines the dimensions and weight of the container in which the mover can place her dance. 

So ultimately, the witness is co-creating the dance?  I’ll take this even further.  The mover is working with the raw materials of her body and soul, presumably completely attuned to her inner impulse.  Those raw materials are more than the summation of her dance language, emotional palette, and soul knowledge until that point in her life.  The raw materials are shards from a universal unconscious that temporarily surface as waves and images that belong no more to the mover than to the witness.  If the mover drops into that vast and deep realm of consciousness, then what flows through her is not of her conscious design.  She is actually responding to something being called from her, being drawn out of her. 

I believe that the witness is the representative of that call.  The witness anchors the calling sound for the mover, keeping it always just out of reach so the mover is propelled into deeper and deeper experiences.  If the witness can wield his power effectively, he can elicit and generate dance that is healing for the mover and, eventually, for the world.  The witness creates the dance by placing his focus on the mover’s growing edge toward wholeness and surrendered service to our world. 

So if the witness creates the dance, it becomes outrageously important who witnesses us.  Choose your witnesses wisely.  Who witnesses your dance in this life?  Your partner?  Your spiritual teacher?  Your deepest self?  The stars above?  The Earth herself?  Does your witness call forth your deepest dance?  Or does your dance shrink and shrivel up with the witnesses you have chosen?   

And how do we witness others?  Can we witness each other in a way that brings out the best in each other?  Can we hold our silent awareness on the growing edge of our community?  Of our entire species?  Could that call forth the true dance of the human being?   

Are there any human souls remaining that are large enough to offer full witnessing for nature's wild dance?