I can feel it coming, up from the depths of my being. Something feral, unbridled and free; pawing the earth, pushing at the gate, ready to burst through the threshold and meet the world, heart first. It’s springtime. Maybe that’s it. I’ve lived through a lot of springs, though and I never felt like this before. There is a gut-stirring, pulse-raising constant mantra that sometimes hums, sometimes shouts, ‘Get ready. Are you ready?’ It’s a wake me up, shake me up, kind of feeling. I don’t know what it is beyond the recognition that it was conceived of a long-held desire to feel more vibrant and alive, to trust my instincts and fully embody Beauty and Grace and Love.
What does this have to do with hoop dance, I hear you asking. Well, everything, actually. It was when I first entered the hoop that noticed the stirrings of these long-ignored, completely neglected aspects of myself that I’d somehow lost track of in the crazy business and drama of everyday life. Somewhere along the line I had accepted the idea that I must set ‘childish’ things aside and deal with reality like a ‘grown-up’. This strategy quickly became a constant battle of endurance–to keep on keeping on. I grew increasingly hopeless (I started to write hoopless, which is exactly what I was) that I could ever dig myself out of the emotional black hole I was unwittingly digging deeper with my relentless focus on how much I didn’t like the state of my life and the feeling that nothing I did made any real difference. Oh, things would seem to improve for a while but deep down, way beneath the hope I clung to, I knew that something was just not right. Sound familiar?
When I got my my first glimpse of hoop dance in a video a couple of years ago I saw something I hadn’t seen before. And though I couldn’t see how I could have that for myself, I was thrilled to know that at least someone had been able to tap into the kind of beauty and vitality that I craved. It was another six months before I managed to get a hoop and see what I could do with it. Once in the hoop I found my rhythm. It all started there. Despite all of the dance classes I had taken and all of the running I had done for twenty-some years, I had lost my connection with my own rhythm. Something about the hoop worked like a homing device to call me back inside, into my center, into my heart, into the beat that was mine, alone, into the joy that was so palpable when I was young.
And now, after twenty months of dedication to hoop
play practice, classes from several brilliant teachers, becoming a hoop dance teacher, and becoming part of the greater hooping community, there is new life pulsing in my veins. A wild new life borne of the circle, unpredictable, solar-powered, dancing to the music of the moment, a heartbeat at a time, one revolution after another. Am I ready? Why, yes. I most certainly am. And what about you? Are you ready to birth something wild?