All the people in the room were dancing. Everyone but me. The others seemed to be in a sweet flow — in a state of freedom and compassion. 

They were dancing to the soft rhythms — melting their hearts and their bodies together. One glance at them and you knew they were committed to the moment, with not a single doubt present. 

“They were dancing to the soft rhythms — melting their hearts and their bodies together”.

What was more, they all seemed to enjoy themselves. like this dance session was the best thing to happen to them all day. The teacher was present and alert as well — fully aware of any tiny changes in the movements. He walked around the room, encouraging the dancing crowd to stay with the vibrations inside. To let that vibrating energy keep the movements flowing and evolving. Everyone was in the zone. 

Except me.

I was standing in a corner, doing stretching exercises, having told the teacher that my back was hurting too much for me to dance. 

The truth: I didn’t feel like dancing. In fact, I hated dancing. I even kept telling myself that I didn’t know how to dance, either, and that dancing in itself was a stupid activity. Neither did dancing have anything to do with yoga — which was what I was there for. You see, this was the second day of a long yoga teacher training, and I just couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why we were wasting time with dancing. Such an idiotic thing to do.

The hurtful, secret lies

Those were the lies I kept telling myself, while I stood in the corner feeling completely left out and alone — my self-esteem creeping down to a place far below zero. Because inside of me, some old friends had come to visit. The old, true friends of you’re not good enough and you’ll make a fool of yourself and the others will start laughing if you try

Their harassment kept flowing inside, growing, telling me I had no clue how to dance or that my body would never move to the rhythm the way everyone else’s was. The voice (though silent to those around me) screamed for me to keep stop thinking I could do this. That if I started to dance, I’d be the first person to be thrown out of a yoga teacher training and would make an idiot of myself. The others must not see the horror.

Tears of disappointment

Simultaneously, I could feel tears starting to build up. Because deep inside, I so wanted to be a part of the love-filled flow and the soft rhythms. I envied the others. It must feel so amazing to be this free and move so beautifully. 

But the dancing didn’t happen, at least not during that session. I just couldn’t make myself commit to these movements. 

However, something was awakened inside by watching the others move so freely. A tiny voice whispered carefully:

“Next time, why don’t you give yourself the opportunity to try?” 

It didn’t have to be the biggest movements or the most fancy dance in the world, but what if I trusted in the unknown and allowed the wisdom from the teachings to help me take a small baby step into doing something I so deeply wanted to be a part of?

So I did. I trusted my teachers to awaken that energy inside and started dancing. 

Shallow movements at first, the insecurity annoyingly present. Session by session, training by training. 

But the more I danced, the more open my whole body became — and I could feel myself grow into smoother, softer movements. The deeply-rooted fear reminded me each time that it takes time to overcome old voices speaking of inabilities. 

The body & mind needs time to become fully awake

More than once, I needed time to become fully awake and let the dancing rhythms take over. It sunk in that the heart needs time to fully heal. But instead of feeling left out and stupid, I realized I was able to take myself to a next level of freedom. 

Slowly it started to sink in that I had grown so fond of believing in myself that the dancing got out. The more I was willing to trust in the unknown, the more I was able to let go of the old friend of not being good enough inside of me. The more I danced, the more an extreme feeling of freedom and sensations of joy filled up my heart.

When I dance and practice free movements today, it’s the raw, open, and most genuine voice of myself speaking. I let myself be seen. I allow myself to trust my body and mind to move me — to create dances and stories that speak of the deepest wishes and dreams from my heart. 

“When I dance and practice free movements today, it’s the raw, open, and most genuine voice of myself speaking.”

Now it’s become my mission to help others find that freedom — that sense of joy that comes from healing their hearts, rebuilding their self-esteem, and living the life they want. It’s all there in you. All you need is to learn how to connect with your own voice and ignite your inner truth.