10 years ago I used to go out dancing at least twice a week. I’d walk home by myself most nights at 2:00 am and dance in the living room for another hour. An extended version of Kate Bush’s “Running Up that Hill” was my favourite solo dance song.

Dancing was my way of connecting to spirit.

It was my moving prayer.

I’d go out and close my eyes, raise my arms, and just be in my body. I rarely drank and was pretty naive to all that was going on at the clubs. All I wanted to do was to feel the beat in my body and feel the music in me.

It was a really amazing time until it wasn’t. The community bubble burst after I spoke out about a traumatic incident. Connecting the dancing to the assault, I didn’t give myself permission to dance anymore. Something broke in me when I stopped dancing. A big part of me closed up.

Tonight, as we were driving home we put on the music loud and started dancing in the car. I remembered how good we were on the dance floor. This photo was taken right before my first date with Stacy. She’s a great dancer.

It’s time to release all the hurt that stopped me from dancing.

I don’t think I’ll be heading out to clubs but there’s nothing from stopping me from putting on a little Kate Bush and remembering what it’s like to pray with my whole dancing body.