Dancing in the woods & finding your feet at 50

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it but I’m 50 this year.  It feels like it should be a milestone and I feel like I should be stressed about it, but no matter how hard I try, it’s just not bothering me that much.

And isn’t that the beauty of getting older?

Things that used to bother you just don’t.  People that used to get on your nerves, you can swat them away like flies.  If you don’t like something, you can just say you don’t want to do it anymore – and that applies to everything (and especially marriages considering that the divorce rate of 50-somethings is the highest it’s ever been…)

But that wasn’t what I was going to ramble about.  It’s sort of linked though. So as I’m 50 this year (did I mention that?) I wanted it to be a memorable year full of things I’ve never done before – just in case I die.  And I’m closer to death than I’ve ever been and you have to think about these things, don’t you?  Don’t you…?

So, in my head I started to compile a list of 50 things I wanted to do before I die (I may blog about this at some stage but I just haven’t had the time yet and we’re already half way through the year – but it includes things like stay in a castle (did that), stay in a windmill, stay in a lighthouse, ride a horse (never done that), smoke a cigar in Havana after watching a dusky maiden roll it on her silky thigh…).  Can I point out that I don’t ever want to swim with dolphins.  They are just pervy…

One of the things I’ve always wanted to do is dance barefoot in the woods.  You know, like some kind of pagan ritual – not wearing a donkey’s head or anything (that would be weird) but getting back to nature, feeling the grass between my toes, breathing in some fresh, summer air.  You get my drift.  Really taking some quality time to worship the beauty of nature and feel thankful for being given the opportunity to just be alive.

Actually I really wanted to dance naked but I don’t think the world is ready for that yet.

Call it fate, or fortune, or something connected to the universe, but it just so happened that a friend of mine I used to work with – who is probably the most spiritually aware person I’ve ever met – had started her own business.  And guess what?  It involved dancing in the woods in bare feet!  I know, you couldn’t make it up, could you?  She had already held a couple of events and I stalked them to see whether it was something I could get a grip of.  I always used to like to dance, but that was done within acceptable boundaries like at a party, or a wedding or in a club where throwing shapes was the norm.  I don’t know why, but the older you get, the less inclined you are to dance.  And I love to dance, but it’s usually reserved for when I’m doing the housework and the hoover isn’t a great dance partner to be fair.  But dancing in a forest in the middle of the Black Country?  I had my reservations.

But I took a deep breath.  Who the hell is going to care if I dance about like a wanton, tribal whore in deepest, darkest Kinver?  So, I booked a place.  Very reasonable at £15 per head – for that you get a lovely flower headdress and a gold leaf tribal spirit tattoo which lasts about a week (well, it wouldn’t be the same without flowers in your hair, would it?).  Tribal Spirit promises to make people feel ‘wild and free’, helps you to ‘melt into motion’ and ‘lose all inhibitions and flow in ecstatic dance’.  I don’t think I need much help in the inhibitions department but everyone could do with improving their flow, don’t you think?

So, the next problem to overcome, what the hell should I wear?  The event happened to be taking place on the hottest day of the year so the melt into motion bit wasn’t going to be much of an issue.  I had to overthink my outfit, of course, but went for a flowing skirt and a lightweight top designed to soak up sweat.  I also bought what I thought would pass for a tribal necklace (well, it had a feather on it…) But I also took a bag of stuff just in case.  What if it rained? What if my sandals got wet? What if my skirt was too long and I tripped over it?  So, for someone who has mastered the art of travelling light when visiting countries all over the world, there I was with a big bag full of STUFF.  Not a great start when you’ve decided to offload your inhibitions.

I must admit, I was a bit nervous.  I’m not great with crowds of girls to start with (prefer blokes) and I just didn’t know what to expect, but as I drove towards the Kinver Scout Hut, the views of rolling Shropshire hills and valleys embracing my journey, pulling me deeper into the shadows of whispering trees, it felt a bit like coming home.  And there were so many people there! Women of all ages… but probably a lot of them about my age… were they all turning 50 and finding themselves, or were they just intent on finding their feet?  Did they all have a different story to tell?  Or was it the same old story?  Were their days filled with domestic drudge, or a diary full of monotonous meetings, or did they find themselves harnessed to the office computer, the kitchen sink or were they being strangled by the apron strings?

Were they, just like me, looking for somewhere to breathe?

Stella Raphael-Reeves, the brains behind Tribal Spirit, was on hand to greet people and it wasn’t long before we were all assembled, bare foot, standing together on a grassy bank in the shade of a lush, warm forest, listening to the gentle beat of drums, being encouraged to feel the rhythm and base.

A swell of beating hearts.

It wasn’t long before we were all soaking up the atmosphere and letting our bodies do some talking.  There was no need for conversation really, which is just as it should be when you’re surrounded by nature. Sometimes the only words you need to hear are the ones that the universe sends out to you.  Do you ever take the time to listen?  Maybe you never have the time.  But it’s a language we all speak, it’s universal – the vibrations, the movement, the flow of the breeze as it pulls through you, the sound of clouds as they skim the breadth of sky, the whisper of leaves.  Oh, I know what you’re thinking.  Hippy. Tree hugger.  I saw the comments on Facebook…

But as I shed my everyday weight and skipped like a middle-aged fairy through the glades, the drumbeat coursing through my veins and my soul lifted by the sounds of nature, I knew in my heart that the grass is never greener on the other side, the grass is greener beneath your feet.

And the one thing I did learn when I started my trance dance, you just don’t need STUFF to make you happy.  I never looked in my bag once.  All you need are healthy lungs full of clean air and to take a minute to listen to the beat of your heart (I would add while you’re still alive… but some of you might think I’m being maudlin).

At the end of the dancing, which started with some mindful stretching and breathing, then rolled into a heavier set of expressive movement as we followed clues from the slowing beat of the drums, we all lay on the ground, still and quiet, contemplative, letting our energy drain back into the earth.  The importance of taking and the importance of giving something back.

I watched the clouds chase the last light as the Summer Solstice took its own last breath, and a couple of brave bats flew overhead.

Think about it.  When was the last time you truly let go? The Summer Solstice Tribal Spirit Ecstatic Dance was like a silent scream at the heart of the universe.  We collectively joined in spirit as strangers, we threw off all our earthly trappings for an hour, and we sent our energy back into the world… and my feet were the dirtiest they’d ever been.

If that’s not the sign of a good night out, I don’t know what is.

Thank you, Stella Raphael-Reeves, for all your passion, fire and light.  This is your time to dance – how wonderful you are dragging us all with you!