Dance Me Free

“You’re so sensitive,” people would say to me as I was growing up, and I believed them. By the tone in their voice, the little snicker, or the rolling of their eyes, I sensed that it wasn’t a compliment, but came more from concern and pity. Oh, the irony. THEY were worried for ME.

I would hear things like, “You have to toughen up”. or, “Don’t take things so personally”, or “Stop crying, you don’t need to cry”. If only they knew at the time what I know now, if only I understood what I do now, I wouldn’t have taken their words to heart. In fact, I would have realized that it was often those same people’s disconnection to their own senses, to their heart and inner guidance system, that made them view my sensitivity as a weakness. Maybe I should have been the one who was feeling sorry for them.

The thing is that you can’t be selective about which emotions you cut yourself off from. If you separate yourself from some, you also don’t get to reap the rewards of others. The friends and family who were forcing a disconnection to their sensitivity were protective, on guard, and walking around with this no- one- can- mess- with- me exterior. But that also meant they were not able to access the joy, creativity, wonder and fun that others who were tapped into their emotions could.

The amazing opportunities that I was attracting were often deemed as just lucky, especially from the people who were less trusting of the universe. I would be at the right place at the right time, hear the right message from the right lyrics, read the right line that would take me to my next new destination, or just get an intuitive hit about something that I couldn’t help but to follow. While some people around me thought my “overly” sensitive nature would put me in danger or would be misguiding, I was meeting people and being given signs as to which next great turn I should take. And the world didn’t feel big and bad to me. It felt beautiful and giving.

But as time went on, and I would become unsure about things, I started buying into what culture and society and the fears of others were saying. The more people would make me doubt my feelings, or make me question how I could just know something, and why I trusted so much, the more I started to not trust. Not just others, but especially my own judgment.

By the time I got into dance, I had a lot of people’s voices and cautionary tales in my head, as to how to be, who to be with, and where not to be or feel. It was confusing, and I had fallen so out of trust with myself, that I was not really in my body. My movements were coming more from my thinking rather than my senses. I didn’t trust in muscle memory or my body’s ability to feel into what a partner or even the music was calling for me. And the idea of being “too” sensitive kept playing back in my head.

Coming to dance without trust in your senses seems ridiculous to me now, almost like a paradox. But I awkwardly made it through salsa that way. The 1, 2, 3, and 5, 6, 7 rhythm and structure that I robotically relied on allowed me to think I didn’t need to connect with my senses.

Tango wouldn’t let me get away with that. I had to really feel what my partner was leading me to do, especially because there was not a structure I could fall back into. And sometimes, the movements were so subtle in tango that you had to be connected to your body, your senses, or you’d miss them entirely.

I loved closing my eyes to really dance this dance. It helped me really feel into what was happening in my body and cut off the distractions outside. Sometimes, an ocho or a molinete was at a smaller angle than the last time. Sometimes, even a breath was needed to be felt with my partner in order to stay in sync with his timing and lead. I didn’t want to miss it, but it took awhile for me to trust in my senses again to even be able to catch it.

Did that really happen? I’d ask myself. Was that a move, or did I make that up in my head? The thing is that none of it was really about my head. It was about my senses. And if I wanted to dance tango, or any other dances properly, I needed to rebuild my sense of feeling again, to embrace the sensitivity that I had been told was too much as I was growing up.

The more I did this, the more I was able to learn new dances with less fear and more intention. The nuances of the body undulations of kizomba, or, the micromovements of fusion dance, became louder to me when they were first barely recognizable.

The more I was picking up on subtleties in kizomba, and zouk and tango, the more I was able to dance with dancers who, in the past, I thought were barely moving. But I started realizing they were actually doing a lot, I just wasn’t finely tuned into those subtleties enough to feel it back then. I even was able to go back into salsa to understand better what it should feel like, rather than what I had made it into- disconnected from the senses.

Dance started teaching me that I wasn’t TOO sensitive, I actually needed to be MORE sensitive. And doing so would put me in touch with feelings and sensations that I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to experience. And I thought, wow! What have I been missing! Not just on the dance floor, but in life outside of the dance floor as well. What have all those people who shut themselves off of their feelings missed out on on a daily basis?

Being sensitive is one of the greatest protections that can ever exist. It doesn’t protect us as if it is a closing off, but it protects us in a way that is opening, expansive, and liberating. Not out of fear, but out of knowing. An inner knowing that we all have the capacity to tune into if we are encouraged to. It gives us weight, solidity, rather than easily being pushed over. We can’t be manipulated or tricked when we are solid in our sense of self, and what feels right for us. But the key is to be allowed to feel.

I could no longer ignore the feelings that would come up about someone being untrue to me once I got tapped into my senses. I could no longer question whether that really did happen or not. I started trusting my guidance system so deeply that I was gaining confidence in what I believed, and who I should believe, rather than doubting myself. And I began seeing my sensitivity as a super power, not a weakness!

Being sensitive doesn’t actually make us prey to the unkind. It teaches us how to be kind to ourselves and to manifest through our energy. Our senses allow us to open up our energy to receive what is lined up for us. To receive creative downloads, ideas, for songs, and dances, and writing, and relating. It gives us freedom to explore, and hold our own, without being fearful of our power to sense and be touched by others’ emotions. It allows us to turn our sensitivity into creative prowess.

Being sensitive means we can say No! when we feel a no, and say Let’s go for it! when it feels right for us. No more doubt and scarcity. Just celebrating our power to feel, to sense, to live more in our fullness with all of our emotions. It’s the beauty of being human. Rather than running from it, we can embrace it, and know that we are held and guided and strong because of our sensitivity, not in spite of it. We don’t need to hide it but take pride in how it helps us navigate the world more assuredly.