Dancing Away From Home

A report back from Dance New England's Dance Camp 2023.

I'm just back from Dance New England's Dance Camp in western Massachussets. 11 days at Camp Timber Trails leaves me awash in exhaustion and gratitude. The premise of the event is community gathering around shared love of dance. Eecstatic, Contact Improv, Biodanza, Breathwork, Somatics, and nights laying on the beach taking in the blanket of stars.

On the 6 hour drive down from Tiohtià:ke, my friends and I spoke of our intentions for the immersion of Camp. I said that I intended to remind myself that at any given moment I would be in the right place at the right time. This is not about intending to Do anything, it's about orienting to myself no matter what spin-cycle the world has in store for a day.

I participated in the camp's work-exchange program, getting up each morning at 6am for a shift in the kitchen, to help however was needed. Mornings of cutting onions to feed 400. Sunrise spent shelving sanitized dishes. I originally chose the morning shift in order not to miss out on the regularly scheduled classes, but rarely did I attend more than one or two sessions a day.

I ended up (mostly) sticking to my sleep schedule despite the parties happening every night, and I used many days to rest instead of taking the classes offered. I lounged by the waterfront, took time to read protected in a mosquito-netted hammock, slept the afternoons away in our tent. The regularly scheduled programming of 3-4 classes a day was, in many ways, secondary to my experience of camp.

Finding myself in the right at the right time meant that I settled into a relaxed flow, not pressuring myself to productively consume the content on offer, not worrying about whether I was missing out on some amazing activity. I knew that by listening to my needs, I was getting everything I needed. 11 days offline, screen-free, drawing, reading, dancing, and only occasionally overwhelmed by the socializing.

My time at camp inhibited my habits. Late nights meant my alarm went off as close to the start of my shift as I could manage. I did not have spaciousness to write my morning pages, did not have time to do my physical training first thing in the morning, and was immediately thrown into the noise of a busy kitchen. There is a shock factor at play here.

My mornings are invaluable to me, they are a time to resource myself and to tune in to my needs. A time to practice. I'm realizing my practice requires stability, that the early hours are a sacred time. My habits are unstable. At their best, I am up at dawn, writing down my dreams, and then immediately going outside to take in the morning light and awaken my body through rigorous movement. A combination of standing meditation practice, Neigong exercises learned through training at the Montreal Gongfu Research Center, and contemplative walking. Even during the winter, I do some version of this, but I'm unlikely to stay outside.

To centre myself on these early morning shifts, I prayed. I have an internal mantra, found three years ago in the pages of Beverly Lanzetta's Path of The Heart. It goes like this:

Please help me

Please show me the way

Please open my heart to thy way

Please teach me infinite love

This prayer, too, is a call to find myself at the right place at the right time. So I remained entirely present to the chaos that pulled me away from my routine. I made friends. I took it easy. I found joy in being of service to a community I had never before seen. It's a taste of karma yoga.

I am now briefly back home. Back home to a routine and a rhythm that I can call my own. Back home to meal times being When I'm Hungry instead of When It's Served. Back home to intermittent fasting and eating mostly raw. Back home, I'm realizing, is possible. Tiohtià:ke is home, now. It's where I can devote my time to the way I desire, the ways I've found work for my energy. Home is a sense of safety, a flourishing of possibilities. Home is where the heart is they say, but it's also a sense of control. Home is where I can grow into what feels right for me.

And I'm leaving for weeks again. I'll be holding space with collaborators during the Urban Contact Improvisation Survival Camp 2023 later this week, then heading off to a weekend class and jam at l'Orée Des Bois, and then, blissfully, away to Gespe'gewa'gi for a few weeks of hiking. Allthewhile, writing. Seeing how this project fits into my life.