Dance Me Free

My Name, Tasleem, means “to surrender”.

I used to think surrender was a weakness, a giving up, an admitting to not being enough, not having enough. I thought it indicated that whatever fight I was going through was too much, and I needed to let the other side win.

It took me years to learn that a fight is not even necessary, and is not an indication of strength or a win. That there is another way to live that doesn’t involve going against the grain of things. That there is a flow to life that not only CAN we go with, but we are meant to move with, to DANCE with. That life is not meant to be a struggle if we find the sweet spot that allows us to ride the waves. We can become the flow, and surrender to what life is doing FOR us, not against us.

But this flow is not something that can be explained with words. It has to be felt, not just figured out in our minds. It was Dance that taught me how to feel into surrender, and to learn that it’s an art that takes cultivating. It’s the opposite of powerlessness. It can make us come alive, and is an integral part of the beauty of being human. Being creative, soulful, connected, strong, inspiring. That is what it means to learn to surrender.

Coming to dance as a follow, in particular, meant that I really needed to trust my partner, gravity, the floor, and especially myself. Trust that my body would remember the moves I’d been practicing. That I could not only execute them, but allow the movement to flow through me, to lead me to the next step, sway, or twist or turn. Trust that my partner and I would feel each other’s connection, and feed off of each other’s energy, our pushes into the floor, and the floor’s propelling us into the direction our momentum was going.

None of this could be thought out in detail once that momentum began. Surrendering to our body’s ability to do what it needed and was feeling took a lot of strength, letting go and confidence. And it was not about just doing nothing. It was about connecting, vibrating, on a level that is deep and present and aligned with our own divinity.

In social dancing, this was particularly heightened as the moves were not choreographed but felt, in that moment. At first, I was hesitant, even scared to make a mistake, to look foolish, to get hurt, or to not be able to keep up.

But the more Dance asked me to let go and feel and be free, the more I realized that thinking and strategizing and holding myself back was not strong or courageous. It was locked, rigid, cumbersome, and was actually keeping me small. I was fighting against my own body, instead of letting it go. And the letting go did not mean losing myself, but finding myself fully. I was unable to keep up, not because I was slow, but because I was fearful of my own power.

Once I started releasing that grip on myself, I could flow and expand. I could use gravity, but also appear to defy it, to fly, and go beyond the limits I hadn’t even known I had placed on myself. That we all often put on ourselves.

Surrender allowed me to feel limitless, and not confine myself to just one way of doing things, or one response. To realize I could not make a mistake because there was something greater than me supporting me. I wasn’t doing it all myself. It wasn’t all up to me or on me to figure it all out. That if I surrendered to the rhythm of life that was already and had always been present around me, I’d be supported and have the momentum and leverage around me from the whole of life and the universe, to lift me, to hold me, to carry me, not just the small part I thought I played.

Surrender taught me I was bigger than I imagined, but that I’m a piece of the larger cosmos. I can’t do this thing called life wrong, but I can make it harder for myself by always fighting an uphill battle that it never needed to be.

Dance taught me I am part of the universe. It lives and breathes in me. I was given the opportunity to feel my own cosmic flow through dance. And by practising connecting to that expansiveness in dance class and moments on the dance floor, I could take that feeling and vibration onto the dance floors of life, in building friendships, in travel, in teaching, in learning, in exploring, in romance, even sensuality.

Dance made me recognize the sensuality lived not just in my body but in my surroundings. It allowed me to notice the moments when I had been given tastes of sensuous surrender without being consciously aware of it. When I’d get on the ‘wrong’ train, which would lead me to the right new person, place, or experience because I’d open up to the new experience.

Or I’d stop pining over a long, lost love, only to find someone new who was more compatible with my values. Or I thought I was being rejected for a career or educational opportunity, and let that finally go, and be led to something so much more inspiring and fulfilling.

Through surrender, and choosing to surrender more intentionally, I learned I could make space and have faith that what looked like doors shutting was actually me being guided to the right open.

But I would need to surrender to the new road, the new path, the new open in order to enjoy it rather than have it shut me down. Dance got me practising surrender so that I could feel how much courage, intuition, and flexibility it took to surrender, and that I was not only capable of it, but was brought to this earth to embody it.

Dance helped me practice surrender in safe spaces, in class and social dances and workshops and festivals, so that I could ingrain it in my body and spiritual memory to use in my off the dance floor life.

When I heard that the great mystical Sufi poets considered Surrender one of the highest attainments anyone could ever achieve, I was awestruck, and felt so proud of the name I had been given. And seeing how the Sufis used Dance as a ritualistic practise for surrender made so much sense to me, after I had been given tastes of my own lessons in surrender through dance.

Surrender has helped me write poetry, sing in front of audiences, learn from autoimmune illness, rather than fear it, trust that I am was being taken cared of when certain friendships or romantic relationships came to an end, and continue to connect to my mom after her passing.

Instead of thinking that my heart was being broken or my life was being limited, surrender showed me that there is something bigger in store for me that is allowing me to go deeper if I just let go of the connections I thought I so desperately had to clutch.

I might not be able to see the whole picture, but I can trust in the flow, that I am being led to something greater than I can ever imagine. Dance helped teach me that I’m never actually alone. I have infinite intelligence and divine energy flowing within me. It allows me to create and not just be the artist, but be the art, if I let it come through. If I open to it working it magic through me, I can see and feel my own artistry.

Dance has helped me believe my destiny is to continue to live up to my name, to embody it, and use it to dance through life no matter what comes into my path.