Dance Kitty Dance: Yoga Goes To The Sober Disco
Updated: Nov 4, 2020
So there I was minding me own beeswax after an Astanga Vinyasa Primary Series practice, where for some strange reason I thought it was a good idea to chuck a handstand in every jump back to chaturanga, then some donkey kicks (preparation for tuck to handstand) on the way back to halfway lift, for good measure.
Reality check: I was not actually minding my own beeswax, I was rooted. Rooted is good old Aussie slang for exhausted. I was literally recovering my very being, waiting for my full prana to come back. It was like I had invented my own Astangi VO2 Max Test, testing my yogi fitness. Side note: Any one says that they don't get a cardio work out form a yoga practice should give this madness a crack. BTW, VO2 max refers to the maximum amount of oxygen one can utilise during exercise, normally its for testing the aerobic endurance or cardiovascular fitness of athletes. I have done one before when I was an actual athlete, I vomited, so I figured the sitting quietly thing was nah sah bad.
Any who eventually once confidant of my return to full prana aided by the consumption of a Pocari Sweat (I am pulling a face) to replenish my electrolytes, I find my self in conversation with a fellow Astangi who confirms my madness with the comment "you're amazing". Her name is Comet, we then get chatting abut our weekends & she lets me know she is is the organiser of a 'sober dance party" its no longer ecstatic dance because this draws a specific crowd & they want to open it up to a broader audience. We also talk Bonds underwear, G-strings in particular and our inability to locate afore mentioned butt floss in Bali, she is Australian she totally gets it. I am invited to dance sober. mmmmm I think to myself- I have never done that before I should give it a go in the name of "add it to my list of experiences" and potential to make new friends.
So lets get a little back story here I bloody love a disco. I was and probably am still super awesome at going to the disco, look how many times I say disco. I love the dance floor, it loves me back usually creating space for me to bust my moves like any good Solid Gold Dancer with a love of lycra, glitter and reminiscing the 80's who lived on through the mega dance parties of the 90s. There is a "but" here I don't recall ever being totally, if I have to be honest, sober. Sometimes fuelled a few tequila shots or VLS (vodka lime & soda) perhaps something more illicit like ecstasy or MDMA that always made me a super star on the dance floor and completely absolutely uninhibited.
In my lycra dress fringed skirts bra tops & sexy hooker shoes, I was really good at being on drugs, I didn't have a "drug problem" .....until I did. When you catch yourself doing lines off the mirror in your compact in the toilets at work on a Monday morning after walking out of a club just one hour prior, showering and swapping sexy hooker shoes for serious work stilettos so that you could go drone away in that socially acceptable, career girl, money making, office box is probably a dead give away. I realised it was a problem, I changed my sitch and sorted my shit out. Thanks Japan, you can read about that adventure here In a Kitty of Chaos
So I was super curious, what would that be like? I love the idea of no smoking in the dance space!! Yey!!! In the 90s every one was smoking in the clubs we got our dance floor work outs with lungs filled with hectic club smoke. No alcohol at this even either which meant no leering guys or your arse/ breasts being groped, long cues in ladies loos or wasting money on beverages that will dehydrate you when you really want to dance. It struck me like a strobe light that I might just be free to dance..... without dealing with all the other palaver was probably a contributor as to why I had to armour up with drugs and alcohol in the first place??
Of course I have heard of ecstatic dance before, but it previously conjured up images of sweaty trance dancers, hard core rave music in a forrest followed by a mass orgy, really......I know I probably should have gone lol. Judgement kitty would normally about now pop up and be all like "thats not my cup of tea" purse my lips and change the conversation. Kitty the disco biscuit munching dance floor whore, what a a judgey wudgy stick up her butt bear.
So as all of these thoughts raced through my mind, I started nodding "yes, I would love to come" and it was agreed. I was going, so natch I would be needing an outfit, of course it needed to have sequins. It was a halloween, fancy dress, sober dance party and I was probably going to be the oldest person in the room. This sober dance party was in Canggu, home to the hipster-model-fabulous-scantily-clad-digital-nomad mega gramars of Bali. I avoid going to "The Gu" as I affectionately call it. I only have a partial 6 pack as I have found a balance between health happiness and a love of donuts. The Gu is lots of fast noisy motorcycles with riders who don't wear helmets, but do wear a face mask to protect them during Camp Covid, sometimes the face masks have more fabric than the pillion passengers bikini. I basically ride a sewing machine on wheels whilst wearing a Hello Kitty helmet, my daughter would laugh at my serious levels of uncool, I however think I am kinda groovy, truth be told I kinda don't care, I just like Hello Kitty, have done since high school.
So I borrow the very gorgeous sequinned pyjamas as pictured from a very generous friend who os the sequin benefactor of fun times @houseofmuamuaofficial I am handed matching glasses that Elton John would envy. I head out preparing to be a turquoise mirror ball on wheels as I motor to the sober party. No pre departure tequila shots just a happy curiousness and a full on desire to get on that dance floor.
So I arrive at the venue, the girl at reception looks at me strangely and upon my enquiry responds "no lady no party here" Bugger, have a messed up the day?, the time? or the location? Phone check, I was, in my excitement at the wrong location, so me dressed as a shiny disco ball gets back on the Singer for another 15 minutes of Bali driving chaos to get to the heart of The Gu. When I arrive, the traffic jam and number of Tukang Pakir (Parking Attendants) give the venue away. I am not even nervous, I would have been in my younger days.
I see a friend, he is leaving he was just there for the opening meditation and cacao ceremony my venue misadventure had cost me a meditation!! I walk inside EVERYBODY is in fancy dress. There is a regular looking bar serving cacao, kombucha and all three waters- coconut, still and sparkling. I grab a cacao shot and go for a roam, the costumes were outstanding as suspected there was lycra and glitter and sparkly headdresses every where, these people could be my dance floor disco Omies!
I stood on the side line in a quite corner, cacao in hand, in foot tapping observation mode, just waiting for my time to enter the sweaty dance space. Start out slow and just see what happens. I was wearing lycra supportive yoga top, water proof mascara, see I know the drill and I know I dance like its a cardiovascular work out, boobs need support, there will be sweat, so much so that any make up washes its self away.
Everyone is doing there own thing, its freeform movement in a judgement free space. There is a half naked girl and guy doing touchy, swirly, arty kinda of model dancing, others in full trance dance mode, some group dancing laughter whoops and smiles. I see my segway, moving into the edge of the crowd to a track I recognise from Dimitri Of Paris, A Night at the Play Boy Mansion fills my ears with happiness and memories, I start moving, I can't help it.
The jacket comes off, my cross body security blanket/ hand bag is cast aside as I begin to trust the room full of strangers who are with me on this free form dance adventure. Dancing is a means of release, eventually I am so lost just letting my body move exactly where it wants to inspired by the beat of the music, the movement and freedom of my fellow dancers. I take breaks to stretch my yoga body realising that it hasn't gone dance floor cray cray like this in like for ages and that if I don't gift it some intermittent stretching that it may not be so generous with me when I wake up tomorrow lol.
The is a dynamic movement practice, as I find my groove, my thoughts loosen their grip on my mind, my sparkly diamanté runner clad feet are on their own little musical mission. My moves get bigger, wilder, looser and weirder. I look to the sky, I dance to the sky, I look around, I dance around, more smiles more happiness more just being in the dance moment.
At some point I think to myself this is a moment of naked truth, no one is fully naked though shirtless men are dancing around me uninhibited too. I remember thinking far out brussel sprout I miss dancing, I was meant to dance, we are meant to dance. I love not being harassed or judged or chatted up (ok, busted, I wouldn't have minded being chatted up)
I was just free to be crazy disco dancing kitty
Three hours of dance floor mayhem, movement and meditation felt so liberating. We were all joyously letting go of energy spots that had been stuck somewhere in our physical self. Even though I asana every day, this is another reason why its good to mix up your practice, find alternative healthy ways to let stuff go. Its good to get rid of these blockages so they don't manifest into something that never needed to be present.
The amazing DJ @ritualfrequencies slowed us down and allowed us to recover our breath while we cheered, chanted whopped and clapped. Eventually we were led outside under the epic full moon, the Blue Moon our second full moon of of October, the Halloween moon, when the veil is said to be at its thinest. We closed the evening with a fire ceremony getting rid of what was no longer serving us writing these potential blockages down and burning them in the fire. Then offering up our intentions and gifting them to the universe. There was soft song, chanting, laughter and smiling faces, happy people lying in the grass taking it all in, just feeling all the vibes.
A sweaty shiny disco ball I was, I got back on my sewing machine with wheels and floated all the way back to "The Yak" (Seminyak) where I showered and flopped happily into bed in and drifted into the sleep of the exhausted ecstatic dancer.
Will go again
Big thanks to the event organisers @riseandshineparties