I visited an Ecstatic Dance for the first time in my life in Utrecht last weekend. As I expect not a single word has ever been written about this extraordinary phenomenon in Resource, I thought it would be a good idea to write about it. To make this column a little more interactive, I asked an artificially intelligent friend to ask me questions about it, Q&A style.
What is ecstatic dance?
It is an event that lasts 2 to 3 hours, in which you let yourself be wholly absorbed by the music in the presence of a group of strangers. There is a master of ceremonies and a DJ that determines the vibe, but the participants have considerable influence. The idea is that the dancing takes you on a spiritual journey where you begin slowly, move towards a climactic peak of ecstasy and then taper off.
Was there a moment where you felt completely free to embrace your own dancing style, free of the judgement of others?
Most certainly. In the beginning, I was a little held back, but as the music increased in power and lifted the energy levels in the chakras, I was increasingly able to let go. Particularly when the music became more electronic and really loud, we were all just jumping up and down like animals, crying in ecstasy.
Did you take a break from dancing to have a meaningful conversation with the imaginary unicorn you saw in the corner of the room?
No. A crucial aspect of ecstatic dance is that conversations with others are forbidden, as are drugs and alcohol. Moreover, bare feet are a must, and no judgment.
Did you, at any time, feel like you had shifted into a parallel universe where dancing was the only form of communication?
I came close, indeed. Towards the end of the evening, when the music began to calm down, I lay on the floor to rest for a while. I stared at the ceiling, and from the north, I saw a forty-year-old, long-haired Italian man appear in my field of vision. He crawled over me and sucked me into a dance with two other dancing partners, an older Asian lady and a tall guy my age. Moving together, extremities entwined, the four of us danced in a rhythmic slumber of ecstasy. At that point, I no longer felt I was on this planet.
Looking back on the ecstatic dance, what part of yourself did you leave behind on the dancefloor? And, would you retrieve it if you could?
I forgot my water bottle and would like it back. No, seriously, I did lose some part of myself: the part that values alcohol and, particularly, the part that sometimes cares too much about what others think about me.
So, dear reader, remember: dance free, let yourself go, and I’ll see you on the moon.
Resource-student editor Felix Landsman (22) is a likely future graduate of Environmental Sciences and an aspiring adventurer. He is often looking for something.
