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Postmodern spirituality is often criticized for the questionable legitimacy and depth of custom-made experiences to suit individual taste and preference, outside of an acknowledged doctrine (see for example Heelas 1996). Accessing the sacred, however, is not the sole province of specifically delineated contexts or specialists, but can happen through many activities (compare Maslow 1994, 29). Dance, for example, can help to build and maintain a personal relationship with the divine, access other realities and knowledge, aid prayer, celebrate the mysterious, and embody the spirits and/or the gods. Indeed, the contributions of dance to spirituality appear on a colorful palette of historical records, contemporary cultures, religious traditions, and somatic practices (to name but a few publications : Ehrenreich 2007 ; Hume 2007 ; Gill 2012 ; Williamson et al. 2014 ; Lamothe 2015 ; Whatley et al. 2015). Drawing lightly from my Ph.D., this paper offers some personal reflections of what I have come to understand about spirituality through dance, especially through moving in nature, in my own practice and when teaching others. In this context, I refer to dance as a generic human activity of attentive, improvised movement, available and accessible to everyone. All that is required to be « dancing » is a shift of perception, an opening of the senses, a conscious awakening to the present moment within a specific context. That means that anyone can do this, as previous experience or training are entirely unnecessary.

Elsewhere I discussed how a « moving spirituality » differs from physically more static practices ; how it embodies the heart ; enables dancers to move between different places in consciousness and access other knowledge by moving to, with and through spirit ; and how the active nature of dance underlines agency and encourages people to become co-creators with life (Kieft 2014). Here I will investigate the possible role of improvised, conscious, dance movement in nature, in reclaiming our direct experience of gd[1], or source. I first discuss some aspects of the body and embodiment which I see not as contradictory to but as absolutely essential for spirituality. I briefly touch on the possibility of embodied ecstasy, as well as various elements of embodiment such as awareness, alignment, presence, and connection. Then, after introducing some notions of dance and spirituality in various contexts, I zoom in on improvised movement as a way of negotiating the unknown, unpacking the possibilities of movement improvisation as a spiritual practice. I also consider the potential for waking up to the sacred all around us, when movement practice is brought out into the natural world. Finally, I weave these threads together in some concluding thoughts on the role that dance can play in enhancing mystical participation in an enchanted world.

Before we continue, I will offer a few remarks on methodology. My ongoing immersion in the fields of dance, anthropology and shamanism has opened me to different ways of perceiving the world as well as encouraging a search for more inclusive research methodologies. Through ongoing exposure to different approaches to research, my views have expanded from a cautious, almost apologetic inclusion of the subjective to a robust and bolder acknowledgement of the usefulness and inevitability of (inter)subjective embodied enquiry. Approaches such as hermeneutic research with soul in mind (Romanyshyn 2007), « a/r/tography’ » (Gouzouasis 2008 ; Gouzouasis 2013), Practice as Research (Rust et al. 2007 ; Nelson 2013 ; Spatz 2015), and other Creative Analytical Practices (Richardson 2000) enable, by their very nature, a deep excavation of elusive experiences that are difficult to describe. Taking myself as « research subject » allows for a very long longitudinal study : I have been dancing since 1985, wrote occasional notes about my practice since 1987, and kept an extensive dance diary since 2006. Like many anthropologists I recognize myself as the main fieldwork tool through which all data is collected and analyzed, and my body as one of its filters. Sometimes I seem to walk in two different bodies : the dancer’s body, and the body of the scholar. My aim is to let these two merge into « the dancing scholar », who dances with and within the reflectivity of a wider academic framework while she analyzes and writes from the sensory awareness of embodied, direct, felt, and lived experience.

— Is that subjective ? Yes, of course.

— Is that a problem ? No, not necessarily.

Only through this moving, breathing, living body can I investigate « conscious intimacy » (Tacey 2004) with, or lived awareness of, the more intangible and inexplicable dimensions of life — those that are often relegated to the domain of the spiritual. This poses the opposite challenge to that faced by most anthropologists, who begin as outsiders and have to get far enough « in » to gain valid insight (Carp, 2013). For me the questions are : how do I maintain a distance from dance, something as natural to me as breathing, without falsifying my experience ? How can I take these intimacies as a starting point of inquiry ? How does something work ? Why does it work ? When doesn’t it work ? Is a certain aspect unique to dance or could it be achieved through other activities as well ?

Such an approach enables a systematic, detailed, and layered exploration of an intimate phenomenon such as danced spirituality. I underline the inclusive features of the autoethnographic method as « both personal and scholarly, both evocative and analytical, […] both descriptive and theoretical » (Burnier 2006, 414), searching for an authentic expression of personal experiences, whilst at the same time being firmly rooted within the academic paradigm. I (re)present this ongoing inquiry here in order to make my « understanding habitable for others » (Todres 2007, 28) — and that is where the subjective can become intersubjective (see for example Jackson 1998 for a thorough discussion of this concept). In the following exchange, which invites reading to become an interactive process, I hope that meaning surfaces and is embodied and substantiated in motion.

1. … the body …

The discomfort and paradoxical tension regarding the corporeal in many spiritual traditions seems to reflect the difference between transcendent and immanent views on spirituality. From a somatic perspective, our bodies can be seen as a point of reference in a « rapidly changing and increasingly baffling world », as they « are always with us » (Shusterman 2000, 162). They help us navigate and co-create context through their sensorial, material dimension, through which we experience and interpret the world around us, negotiate our identities, and create meaning. This means the body is a starting point, not only for dancing, but also for any spiritual experience and our union with the divine. It is there, after all, that we are aware of being touched by the numinous. In my doctoral research, dance participants spoke of their bodies as a temple and vehicle for their spiritual search (Kieft 2013, 259). I too have always regarded my body and the sensual domain as a testimony to and celebration of gd. Even if we do choose to leave the body temporarily to experience rapture, it remains both our place of departure as well as return, where we anchor and integrate any (potentially visionary) insights we may have received during our ecstatic state, providing space and agency to make changes in our daily lives accordingly.

The body can be trained and sensitized to create a meeting point for our relationship with the sublime, helping us understand the intangible from within the tangible and the etheric from within the corporeal. In my Ph.D. data I found four epistemological expressions of embodiment : awareness, alignment, presence and connection. These speak of weaving the different aspects of our existence together and inform the possibilities of dance as a moving spirituality. Although they show different tendencies, they are not mutually exclusive but exist alongside each other (for a detailed description and comparisons with other literature, please see Kieft 2013).

Awareness, the first expression of embodiment, could perhaps be compared to performing a thorough « scan » of one’s inner landscape. This cultivates getting to know the material or fabric of the body as receptor. The more we know what is « ours » and recognize the processes happening within us, the better we can discern subtleties in our environment and shifts in texture and energy when tuning into other dimensions of reality. Much like the (neuroscientific) concept of « interoception », awareness includes physical, emotional and mental aspects as well as perception and behavior (Cameron 2001, 697). Awareness shows parallels with concepts such as « felt sense » (Gendlin 1978), « somatic mind » (Fleckenstein 1999), « somatosensory awareness » (Fraleigh 2000), « body knowledge » and « bodily intelligence » (Grau 1995), and « somatic markers » (Damasio 1999).

These internal observations can still be isolated from one another : one can register some pain in one’s toe, a distraction in the mind, or sadness in the heart without sense of connection between those experiences. Increased awareness may also alert people to neglect or over-emphasis of certain parts. The over-emphasis usually relates to the mental (thought) processes (« being in the head ») while the neglect tends to be more in the emotional area (compare Watson 2008, 86). In response to this, alignment, the second expression of embodiment, is the process of coordinating physical, emotional, and mental processes in a healthy and non-destructive way. When body, heart, and mind work together a channel can open for spiritual receptivity or for « soul », « spirit », « higher self », or « consciousness » to come through (Halprin 2003, 105 ; Hume 2007, 139 ; Kieft 2013, 223). Depending on the context and on which of the modalities is most active, alignment is usually a two-way (upward and downward) process as physical and mental states mutually influence each other (see also Watson 2008, 84).

The combination of increased awareness and monitoring alignment often alerts people to a sense of absent-mindedness or disconnection from « something » vital. This is described as being separated or divorced from the body or sometimes as experiencing « soul loss » (Kieft 2018 in press). Either type of « leaving » might have happened unnoticed or forcefully, although my research informants often attributed it to a result of dealing with strong emotions, a problematic relationship with the body, or as an effect of rigid (transcendental) meditation practice. Dancing can help overcome the separation and/or restore the « missing piece », facilitating presence as the third expression of embodiment. Maintaining this requires discipline, commitment, continuous affirmation and choice to stay with whatever is arising (Kieft 2013).

Connection, the fourth expression of embodiment, concerns an intersubjective feedback-loop based in the relationship between the interior of the body and exterior of the outer world, which mutually influence each other as self and context are intertwined (see also Csordas 1993 ; Fleckenstein 1999). This resembles the relational quality of dance, which involves multi-directional ongoing traffic between inward and outward movements rather than the more vertically experienced process of alignment. Considering these four expressions, a complexity arises of embodiment as « a multilayered mind-body continuum of corporeality, affectivity, cognitivity, and spirituality whose layers are subtly interwoven and mutually interactive » (Shaw 1994, 11). What happens when we apply conscious movement to that continuum ?

2. Moving the body …

The body can be invited into motion in many different ways. Early xxth century dance pioneers, for example, began experimenting with the extremes of the body in polarities of tension/relaxation, exertion/recuperation, fall/recovery, mobility/stability, inner/outer, function/expression. Since the 1960s a wealth of bodily practices appeared, some leaning towards the therapeutic, others focused more on choreographic processes or ecstatic dance. Recent approaches include social or environmental improvisation, while indigenous traditions throughout the ages have used movement to identify with, mimic, or relate to the world around.

Whatever their approach, dancers as « acrobats of the gods » (Dexter Blackmer 1989) often encounter the numinous through technique, performance, or improvisation. Indeed, many choreographers have been deeply inspired by religious traditions and teachings. Janet Lynn Roseman (2004) draws together a rich overview of the spiritual inspiration and explorations of Isadora Duncan, Ruth St. Denis, and Martha Graham. Likewise, in her recent book, Kimerer Lamothe (2015) discusses matter and meaning, evolution, knowing, being born, connecting, healing, and love as reasons for « why we dance ».

Sondra Fraleigh (2015) too, in her analysis of Zen, Butoh, and improvised dance, touches on aspects usually acknowledged within the spiritual domain, such as effervescence, letting go, right livelihood, non-possession, understanding of the whole and wholeness, reflections on death and dying, being and becoming lighter, resilience, compassion and empathy, presence, gratitude and healing. She highlights how embracing the paradox of « paying attention to the mind of the dance » while simultaneously abandoning ourselves to its « rhythm and vital essence » can lead to an increased awake-ness, presence, and participation, enabling us to become mindfully whole (Fraleigh 2015, 17).

Dance is also recognized as a way of connecting to and embodying symbols and archetypes, and the link with Jungian psychology is often made. Looking at palaeolithic and neolithic Goddess symbolism, Amanda Williamson (2016) examines the integration of opposites through movement-based somatic practices. Unity, continuity, integration, and inclusivity become apparent rather than valuing one polarity over another.

Another way of looking at spiritual aspects of dance is offered by Bradford Keeney (2005), who learned « shaking medicine » from the Kalahari shamans, that enables the body to become an instrument of divine celebration and a lightning rod that brings down spirit (2005, 7). Awakening the energy known by many different names (kundalini, chi, ki, seiki, mana, wakan, Manitou, yesod, Ruach, holy spirit ; Keeney 2005, 19), can lead to a direct transmission of experiences of mystical oneness, satori, or cosmic consciousness, as a possible « kinetic holy grail, an answer of the body to the mind’s search for the meaning of life » (Keeney 2005, 139).

This is but a brief taster of many excellent publications in the growing academic field of danced spirituality. Here, I would like to zoom in on the qualities of improvised movement. Essentially, improvisation is a negotiation of the unknown, and the lack of agenda offers space to play and be with what arises. Specific instructions can help to navigate the freedom of this seemingly unstructured activity, help people feel « safe with(in) the not-knowing », and comfortably explore improvisation as reliable technique for knowledge creation (Kieft 2016b). Comparing various somatic practices shows a remarkable « family resemblance » (Reed 2011), even though their underlying philosophies, structure, setting, and aims may differ. Apart from physical skills such as balance, coordination, precision, control, efficiency, and strength (important for (professional) dance training but irrelevant for the purpose of this article), the following characteristics are recognized or emphasized in most somatic movement approaches :

Looking at these core elements it is easy to see how improvisation opens a space for discovering things that often cannot « be found in a systematic preconceived process » (Carter 2000, 182) and can serve an exploration of the unseen and intangible dimensions of life. These ingredients allow for meditative reflection on opposites such as being and doing, movement and stillness, and life and death. It can offer a way of tending to the soul, provide an opportunity to understand patterns within the larger whole and create with what is. Improvised movement can be utilized as an active personal plea for support, healing or inspiration, and equally be a prayer to life, light, earth, nature, and our human and non-human communities. In my experience, the more I surrender and give myself over to it, the more I feel carried and received. The more I show up, the more responsive spirit seems to become. This resonates with the notion of interaction in process theology, that gd is not only fully involved in, but also affected by « every real being » (Viney 2014, italics in original). That the interior and exterior are linked, and that if the one changes, the other will be affected too is also recognized by dance artists and therapists (Halprin 1995), and in pagan and New Age views (Greenwood 2000 ; Prince and Riches 2000).

Table 1

Characteristics of improvisation in somatic movement approaches

Characteristics of improvisation in somatic movement approaches

(see for example Halprin 2003 ; Reeve 2008 ; Williamson 2009 ; Reed 2011 ; Kieft 2013 ; De Spain 2014)

-> See the list of tables

3. Moving the body outside : nature as teacher

Through visual references and our imagination we can engage with nature in the studio. However, taking the practice outdoors seems to further heighten the characteristics of improvised movement described in Table 1. Nature offers an ideal context to play and explore without agendas or expectations. There, we can fully be ourselves without attending to deadlines, production targets, or roles that seem to be expected of us. We can express parts of ourselves that may have become obscured in other situations (Kieft 2016a). However, being in nature is not always easy. Modern life is often so meticulously structured and facilitated that it leaves us feeling uncomfortable with the untamed and unorchestrated. We do not know how to be safe in the wilds anymore. It can invoke fears of getting lost, of animals, or natural forces. But in many indigenous cultures, nature provides initiatory experiences, to explore the boundaries of the unknown. If guided well, this can have an empowering effect. Through exposure to the wilds in solitude, sometimes without food, people test their mettle, and ask for a vision to learn how to best serve their communities. Indeed, « becoming one with nature does not make a person less human but rather completes them in the context of both their selfhood and social world » (Brienza 2014, 484, original emphasis).

We are not generally taught how to renegotiate our relationship with the natural world but it is not that difficult to make a start. Simply being in nature allows for a different sense of perspective to emerge. What can we learn from witnessing the coming and going of tides and moon phases, or from the various seasons and observing growth, blossom, fruition, and decay ? This cultivates a cyclical rather than linear understanding of life and perhaps allows us to hold up a mirror to our own mortality and an awareness of the value of the present moment.

Adding conscious movement can further magnify this process. Through actively participating in creation we may physically experience a deep, felt sense of interconnection and belonging. This immersion offers a different way of knowing, or learning through absorption : « through merging with one’s source of inspiration », through « becoming something rather than […] learning about it » (Keeney 2005, 23). Even such a simple gesture as reaching out our arms opens us to the world, connecting and relating us to that which surrounds us. If this appeals to you, feel free to try the suggested steps below.

Nature can be a teacher of both the mundane and the sacred, of matter and of spirit : « All practical and esoteric teachings can be found in nature, if we know how to use the gateways of silence and meditation » (Luttichau 2017, 66). Dancing in nature too can be such a gateway, generating experiences of connection, spaciousness, and freedom as well as agency. When I dance, I feel many different threads connecting me to an external energy grid, an experience well represented by the paintings of Alex Grey[2]. My body becomes a sender and receiver within this energy field and through danced prayers I both ask and receive guidance. When I am lost, it reminds me that I am always already supported, helping me to recalibrate the compass of my heart. Enveloping, embracing me, I am dancing through gd, with gd, in gd. It holds me, knows me. It is an alchemical process of becoming one again, and again, and again.

Table 2

Moving with Nature as a Teacher

Moving with Nature as a Teacher

-> See the list of tables

4. Awakening to the enchanted garden, a conclusion of openings

« For now we see through a glass, darkly ; but then face to face : now I know in part ; but then shall I know even as also I am known. »

1 Corinthians 13,12, King James Version

The bible verse above has always been one of my favourites, one that breathed mystery as well as possibilities. I grew up with a Dutch translation (NBG 1951), which poetically speaks of looking through a mirror, or a lens, in riddles. To me it communicated the comfort of already being fully known and accepted despite knowing so very little, but with a promise of understanding. This verse came to mind when I was invited to contribute to this special issue, as dance for me is a sacred place where the veils are lifted, where it becomes possible to tap into the knowing fields. I believe it is a sense of separation from such sources that causes so many of our contemporary challenges. With few feelings of reverence, awe, or wonder regarding the world around us, we mistakenly treat nature as a pool of resources that appear rightfully ours to take ; polarize and radicalize within and between different cosmologies ; and suffer a painful epidemic of social isolation as a result of a dwindling sense of communities and togetherness.

Paul’s letters to the Corinthian community, from which the above quote derives, remind us of the importance of the diversity of skills and gifts that all come from one spirit, and the dangers of judgment and conflict when people oppose each other. Dance, practised worldwide, is one such gift that unites and reconnects. This is not limited to a particular culture, time, region or even dance style but appears on a wide spectrum that includes ancient and contemporary indigenous practices, most of the major religions (including early Christianity and even some contemporary Christian denominations), as well as social dancing and professional dance on stage as it has developed over the last 400 years.

Whether or not this immersive, participatory dance can be considered a spiritual practice depends, of course, strongly on discourse and definitions. I wonder if we have looked for the sublime and the spiritual in a too narrow way that excludes many possibilities. A transcendent view requires us leaving « this » to reach « that », while in an immanent view we do not need to go anywhere as « it » is already here, surrounding us, imbuing us. With Jäger (2007), I believe that we never really left paradise, we simply forgot that we are still (t)here. Lifting the veils of duality and separation here and now is all it takes for a so-called return to an enchanted, soulful world in which we know we are supported. The possibility of mystical participation, remembering that we still are in a sacred place, depends on our interaction with the world around us and on our ability to open the soul « to the presence of being-in-the-world » (Bailey 2014, 1479). Because of this, what is more important to me than discussion, definitions, and delineations, is to find activities that open such inclusive experiences and share them with people in an accessible way. Dance is one of those activities : so let’s dance !