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Reclaiming Shakti

By on April 12, 2014
dancing shiva statue

By Shanti SunFire Shaharazade

Dancing has always an integral part of my existence.  

My happiest memory of my maternal grandmother was of her dancing.  Twirling in circles stomping her foot in time with the music, ankle bells chiming with her hair flying, face thrown back, her arms sinuously moving in the air, a jubilant smile on her face. THAT was the grandmother I resonated with, got excited to be around and expected on a constant basis.

I wanted to join her and let our spirits soar together, but for the most part children watched and were silent, being seen and not ‘heard’. 

It wasn’t an easy task to squelch my innate jubilance. It took an enormous amount of frowns and disapproving looks before I got the message. Wanting to express myself was frowned on.

The light prevailed, when I was alone, I danced! 

Twisting the bottom of my tee-shirt, pulling it up and looping it, I could create a halter top in a jiffy.  I would then take my mother’s authentic mantillas, drape it round my neck or tie it around my hips, sarong style and dance, for hours, blessedly in union with sacred expression.

I studied ballet, in the studio and at home. I absorbed everything I could on various forms of dance, focusing on ballet.  I practiced read, ate, slept, and dreamt of ballet.  Yes, I was a prima ballerina.  I apparently made enough of an impact on my dad for him to take me to Lincoln Center so I could audition for the American Ballet Corp.

With my passion and my ‘extensive’ knowledge born of hours of research I was armed and ready to take on the world, I was about to be discovered! 

Looking around the locker room, I did notice that my thick thighs and generous backside were conspicuously noticeable, at least to me. Self-critiquing had already rooted itself in my fertile, sensitive mind, and when I, in a perfect arabesque, heard the stern clipped accent chop out, nooo wrong instep for pointe, my eyes widened in shock and horror.  What?  None of the books I’d read mentioned anything about proper bone structure.  I knew of the dangers of being en pointe for hours, bruised toes, and loss of toenails, etc. but, I was ready to sacrifice for my dream.

I went into the locker room crying quietly.

I was embarrassed, ashamed, and devastated.  I quit ballet.  I stopped dancing for a while until the pressures of life built up in me to a level that screamed for release.  Still devastated I never danced ballet again, except in the house, by myself for hours and hours, and more when my little girls were born and I would demonstrate poses for them.

I explored many other forms of dance, and found my way into the NYC 80’s club scene, frequently such places as the Paradise Garage, Danceteria, The Latin Quarter, the Roxy, etc. Dancing did something for me that prayer never came close too; it connected me to God/dess.  I never needed a partner.  I would go out on the dance floor, swaying solo in the midst of a swirling mass of energy.

Years later as a mom and a wife, dancing was still integral for my connection to Source.

Even at 350 pounds (record high), I could and would sway my hips like ‘numb chucks’.   My children and ex-husband joined me in a love for dancing and performing.   We would select songs, singing and dancing for each other. We’d excitedly exclaim, okay just one more… one more.

Last year I watched a dance movie that inspired me to break into dance in the middle of a shower, later that evening.  Joyfully I realized that there was plenty of dancing space now that I had lost a small person.  I broke out into some serious dance moves, literally giggling with the joy that PURE movement gave me.

So yes, those layers of fat I hid behind, they dulled the pain I buried and covered deep inside. 

Absolutely they did, but it also dimmed the pure joy that is my/our birthright. That night, I danced until my muscles were deliciously sore.

My aunt passed away almost two years ago, and I’ve been walking around with her gorgeous Indian statue.  I had no idea who it was because I never really paid attention to my Indian heritage.  It’s the dancing Shiva.  I did not know what it was called until today.   How perfectly apropos is that??

So here’s the thing, do yourself a favor. 

Light your favorite candle/s.

Let your hair down and shake it all out.

Close your door if that makes you comfortable

Put on music that LIGHTS you up

And DANCE for you

Awaken to your Shakti and watch what unfolds.  

In reclaiming your inner Shakti, you uncover a link to the primal ecstatic prayer of simply existing in movement.  You’re tangoing with Source. What better way to connect to and feel god/dess?

 

10153955_10202568433744635_691860987_nShanti SunFire Shaharazade is a light-worker, writer and advocate for young women, Shanti SunFire Shaharazade helps others primarily by example.  Shining her light as strongly as possible while facing the challenges a human existence she sets a strong standard for courage, and simple BADassery. Originally from New York City, currently in Massachusetts and following her joy out into the world, she  has set her goals on creating villages that will raise ‘children’ that do not give up, and recognize that they too have choices.  To find out more about Shanti SunFire Shaharazade, you may visit her blog at breakingchains-renovationofmytemple.blogspot.com, view her brand new vlog at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7yiRzPxqn8w and check out her newly created page for young women at https://www.facebook.com/BreakingChainsofOppression?ref=hl.

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