Dance Me to the End of Love

Dance, when you're broken open. 

Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. 

Dance in the middle of the fighting. 

Dance in your blood.

Dance when you're perfectly free.

-Rumi

It's been a while since my last post. I write this as a newcomer to grief. I wonder if it is premature to be writing this, knowing that the words I write today belong to this moment in time, a snippet of a process which will likely evolve with time. Today marks six months since my darling partner suddenly passed away. It's a reality that still makes me take a short breath in and I feel a sharp ache in my heart. I find myself in a strange, liminal place where time feels elastic, stretching and shrinking in a surreal way.

Dance has once again been by my side through the entire experience, intertwined from the very beginning. I was practising the dance for the funeral of the late Eileen Kramer when I received the call that something had happened to my partner while he was travelling overseas. As I waited to hear further, I knew I couldn't jump to conclusions but at the same time I had to be prepared for the worst. How strangely apt that the dance I was practising was to Leonard Cohen's song "Dance Me to The End of Love."

It made sense to me to dance this dance of love for Bill at his funeral overseas and later at his memorial service back at home. My dear dance friends and mentors, Sue Healey and Anca Frankenhaeuser joined me in the dance while the longtime colleagues who Bill and I share from our days working together at Montessori East, sang alongside an alumnus who accompanied on the base. It was the most beautiful way to celebrate and honour Bill's life.

Dance Me To The End of Love: with Anca Frankenhaeuser and Sue Healey

Dancing for my beloved came naturally to me as dance is my preferred language to process and express what is going on in the depths of my inner landscape. What I have found very interesting and unexpected is the response from all those who attended the memorial service. For so many people the dance resonated deeply and stuck with them over time. Family, friends and colleagues near and far have reached out to say they have watched the dance over and over again through the recording of the service.

There is something about dancing, singing and playing music that is at the heart of our human experience. Dances for death, grieving and honouring the departed have been part of so many cultures across time. The Dogon Mask Dance of West Africa, the Bon Odori in Japan, the Middle Eastern Semah dance, just to name a few. Dancing brings people together and can help us to collectively process deep emotions and come to terms with big transitions in life.

Since Bill's passing, dance has supported me through the waves, or rather, the tsunamis of grief that come without warning. I have spent countless days dancing and crying, sometimes finding myself asleep on the floor after rolling around. Very early on I attended an online workshop called Dancing Through Grief with Sofia Martins, a much needed forum leading up to the many 'firsts' I was about to face. During that workshop I learned that grief is a whole being experience, one that requires an outlet of expression and beyond words. My collaborator and dear friend, Kasia Ustowska-Gmerek, offered to dance with me, albeit mediated by the screen, allowing us to connect through the silent conversation of dance.

Beyond my own dance practice, dance has come rushing into my life through countless invitations from kind, generous friends who have invited me to attend dance performances. The synchronicity of Sue Healey's show Afterworld presented at the Sydney Festival this year could not have come at a more congruous time with themes of life, death and love being explored through dance. Seeing the dance of Korean group LETITLE perform on the forecourts of the Sydney Opera House was another highlight, bringing awe and joy into my life. Ballet, which had been absent in my life for a while, re-entered like an old friend.

Furthermore, dance has brought about a full circle as I returned to Montessori East, a school where Bill and I met. After being away from the school for the past 4 years, the opportunity came about this year to facilitate the children and educators' dance workshops. It's been a beautiful way to return and to share joyful experiences through dance.

In amongst the loss, pain and sorrow, dance has offered an opening, a way of connecting and being present with what is. I have nothing but gratitude for the day dance entered my life and that it continues to accompany me.

It feels strange to press "publish" without Bill reading it first. He always read my posts beforehand and offered a loving nod and words of encouragement. He was the biggest cheerleader of my work with Montessori Dance.

If this post has resonated with you in some way or you feel inclined to share your experience with dance and/or grief, please feel free to write to me: kei@montessoridance.com.au

With love,

Kei x