Chaos With Sand on my Feet

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I have been in Montreal, Canada for 3 days and missing my New York families already. The family I lived with and the family I danced with – the 5 Rhythms crew.

My last class on Sunday was equally intense and memorable as the first one I attended upon my arrival in the City. It felt like I had swallowed fireworks because of the lack of sleep and because I was dancing the farewell to my city. I just wanted to leave as much of my soul & DNA as possible in the atmosphere of the Big Apple. So I sweated my prayers furiously. It felt like my last dance – although I know it hasn’t even begun.

We “chaossed” for a good half an hour and I think I lost consciousness, I tranced so hard. I just remember that people around me were slowing down one by one and I was all wearing them out. The music just kept going, going, going on the same chaos beat and the more everyone was giving up, the more I was jumping high and bouncing. I was still full of the morning sun and my restless feet were covered with Coney Island beach sand. What a wonder! I was afraid the teacher would come and tell me that drugs are not tolerated and I’d reply: “No, it’s my most natural state!”

In 6 weeks of dance, I have seen the same faces again and again, I’ve become a strong part of the community although I learnt very few names. It is not always necessary to speak with people afterwards, and I don’t share my name unless someone asks for it. The depth of the dance floor encounters remains more vivid if you only retain the non verbal message you received while sharing the dance. I often don’t see the point of knowing people’s life, the sound of their voice. I fall in love every week on the dance floor and I’d rather walk out of the studio with this beautiful feeling than trying to pursue it. I loved coming in and seeing the faces that became familiar along the weeks. They became like dance relatives, I was noticing people’s absence or presence. We were acknowledging each other implicitly, getting accustomed to our mutual energy.

I loved the very pretty girl my height who seems to have Indian dance background and has equally thick and long hair as mine, but dark. I loved the other pretty girl dancing in a bra and fringed legging and bouncing restlessly. I loved the woman who looks like she has nervous system issues but dances anyway like a valid person. I loved the older man who dresses like a Buddhist monk and seems to send very quiet prayers to the rest of the world when everybody is in chaos. I loved the person whom I could never tell if it was a he or a she or something else but who had a beautiful body and danced her/his/their heart out, and I like that I gave up wondering after a while, because who cares after all. I loved the hunchback guy with a wig from the 80s. I loved the strange woman who always danced with a purse that she was continuously moving in circles, and this ritual stung my curiosity. What was inside the purse? A pendulum? Some beloved person’s ashes? I loved the bunch of tall handsome guys. I loved the bunch of shorter older guys. I loved the bunch of fatter guys.

I loved everyone really. I thank them all for the bliss dance floor times. It’s been a privilege. I will be back for sure.

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The Last Days

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New York is crying my impending departure with heavy rains.

Today was the last day at my Broadway office. I gave a bunch of fake hugs at 5.30, and a few genuine ones. I expected to click more with my co-workers – apart from a handful of cool dudes. My legendary magnetism for Americans didn’t quite work this time. Why?

Some aspects of my NYC adventures had to be challenging, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to be brutally uprooted from my natural habitat in the next days.

I’m not sad to leave though. I can feel nothing but gratitude for the blast time. As if the best lover of the world had made me climax intensely multiple times throughout the night and I was forced to leave in the morning to abide by grown-up obligations. I will feel the waves in my body long after the adrenaline was shot into my craving-for-chaos blood. New York is the best lover I’ve ever had, and I possibly love Her more than I ever loved any physical person. It sounds far fetched but it is not a figure of speech ; and it is not original either. Carrie Bradshaw said it long before me, and a bunch of girls walk around the City with a “New York is my Boyfriend” bag. If so many of us feel the relationship with the City, it is because it does exist. I never meant to be the only one.

I’m writing this getting soaked by heavenly waters at the intersection of Broadway and Chambers street with “First Love Never Die” in my ears. It is a good rain song. I am going to slalom my way between the umbrellas down Broadway till the south tip of Manhattan, and blow a kiss to foggy Lady Liberty. 

Tomorrow night is my last extatic Tuesday 5 Rhythms dance class until further notice. I will look at my lover Empire State Building in the eyes and dance to the universe my burning desire to become a true New Yorker. Oh Yes! Manifest that shit!

Those Beautiful New York People Dancing

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I love the 5 Rhythms because it makes people beautiful. Before we enter the studio and everyone hangs out motionless in the corridor, we all look ugly or average and it can even look like the waiting room of a doctor for people with special needs. But as soon as people start moving, they get illuminated, happy, or at least true to themselves. Even the 50 year old guy with the hunchback and the 80s wig looks beautiful. I talked to him at the end and he studies to become a 5 Rhythms teacher. Incredible. (I am trying to imagine the same situation in France. Hunchback old guy saying he wants to teach dance. No wait, I tried and I can’t.)

Two years ago when I danced in this studio for the first time and received my first bliss, there was a guy with one arm and a stump. He shined higher energy than anyone else. He looked so good in his own skin, I’ve never forgotten this image.

I made another magic encounter on the dance floor. A cheesy saxophone music started playing and I engaged in an improvised love duet – somewhere between contact improv’, tango, ice skating and dance theatre – with a tall handsome man with gorgeous ass. (I love beautiful.) We split when the music changed and he put his hands together on his heart as if he had been touched by grace. I found it so charming ; it did something to me.  After that, I felt that he was seeking for my energy all night and I KNEW he was going to talk to me after class. (He did. His name is Ω)

Fabulous times. All those beautiful New York people dancing fulfil me. I want to make them dance too.

I am going to do the 5 Rhythms teacher training.

Dancing The 5 Rhythms In My Bra

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There is no ultimate New York experience without the 5 Rhythms and there wouldn’t be the 5 Rhythms without New York. It is where it was born, thanks to Mama G (Gabrielle Roth). It is no coincidence that the City and 5 Rhythms have this history together – they have their own space-time relationship. New York is a world in the world and the 5 Rhythms make you go through your whole life in supersonic time.

I have danced the 5 Rhythms in various cities, but New York doesn’t compare. The equation wins it all:

NYC energy + 5 Rhythms energy + seeing the Empire State Building shining on me through the window = take your best orgasm x 10 and you still won’t reach that level of intensity.

New York is the only place I’ve experienced where the practice goes through chaos two times – so there is not one but 2 peaks and it’s multiple climaxing. It is almost disturbing. I was about to faint.

Heat increased quickly and I ended up in my bra which enhanced the feeling of freedom and power. I physically lived the most intense moment of my life.

There was a girl on the dance floor with Lisbeth Salander’s haircut (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo). She caught my eye. I ended up in a circle close to her. We touched but didn’t look at each other. She kissed my hand to close the night.

I hope she will be back.