Mid-pandemic my dear friend and professional violinist & vocalist Roseminna Watson started a socially distanced collaborative creations project which she called Pandemic Polyphony. In it she recorded short audio tracks and invited artists of all kinds to add their “layer” on top. Our first collaboration together was Sanctuary (2020), followed a few years later by Las Vegas Ripple (2022). More recently I asked her for a new track to play with, resulting in I Trust It (2025). Enjoy!
I Trust It (2025)Las Vegas Ripple (2022)Sanctuary (2020)
Authentic Movement is a precious mash-up of three of my favorite things: free-form movement, creative expression & conscious connection. The practice gently guides us into an embodied exploration of the vast realms of interplay between psyche & soma and at the same time offers us communal training in non-judgmental awareness & benevolent presence for one another. It draws from a form of dynamic play called “active imagination” that (according to Marie-Louise von Franz, a close collaborator of Jung’s) is “THE most powerful tool in Jungian psychology for achieving wholeness” and “can achieve miracles of inner transformation.” Combine this individual depth with our collective presencing and you get a richly layered relational practice as well. I sometimes think of Authentic Movement as the most affordable & enjoyable complimentary therapy on the planet (outside of nature itself, though combining Authentic Movement with nature is my absolute favorite version of the form).
“THE most powerful tool… for achieving wholeness.”
I have long been flummoxed by the less than abundant interest or curiosity in Authentic Movement (outside of its enthusiastic circles) which given its aforementioned transformative merits, makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE. Upon deeper reflection, I have concluded that this lackluster public interest boils down to two main factors:
Authentic Movement is not a quick practice. Exploration, creation & reflection TAKE TIME.
Most people don’t have a clue what one actually DOES in Authentic Movement.
It asks a lot of a 21st century human to carve out a few hours each week for six to eight weeks at a time to explore a practice that can’t be counted in litres of sweat, consumed in gigabytes or checked off their doctor’s wellness list. Accessing, inviting and conversing at the tender junction of psyche & soma requires that we take our time nurturing safety in the nervous system, allowing for spacious unhurried pacing and returning again (and again) to an ecology of presence & care. Authentic Movement is not a “get fixed quick” scheme, nor does it fit easefully into a world of 3 second sound bites, multitasking apps and over-stuffed agendas.
Moreover, conveying to a non-practitioner what authentic movement IS turns out to be not so straight forward. In our visually-dominant world we’re used to translating images into action. For a yoga class we see photos of people doing postures on mats and say, “Hey, that looks like it might be good for me.” For arts programming we see actors in costumes on a stage or a potter with clay in their hands and think: “I’d love to explore my creative side.” For sports, we see a child kicking a ball into a net or a woman in a kickboxing ring and exclaim: “Yes! I want to be that agile & empowered too.”
But “authentic movement”? Is it a dance? Is it meditation? Do I need to be limber or graceful? What if I don’t know HOW to “move authentically”? Is it something I have to learn how to “do”? What does moving authentically even mean? Does brushing my hair in the morning count as authentic? What about driving to work or picking up my kid at school? Paying my bills? Eating a taco? Arguing with my spouse? Falling onto my pillow at night?
So what DOES Authentic Movement actually look like?
Here’s the dilemma: outside of the essential structures of the form (move, witness, create, reflect), it’s truly impossible to say what “authentic movement” looks like. A human being’s authentic expression in any given moment (even within the established boundaries of the container) is spectacularly unique and infinitely diverse. To offer visual windows into a movement practice that is radically different not only each time you do it but each moment within it seems almost a fool’s errand. Any single image of movement –or even a series of images– actually limits the viewer’s perception of what might actually arise in a session. The “thousand words” we typically associate with photography has an inverse effect, inevitably rendering a distorted and misleading representation of the complex intra- and inter- personal embodied exploration that takes place within a given individual or group session.
For this reason I have to date prefered to pair the explanation of class offerings not with images of movers & movement but of creative expressions that emerge in relation to what’s being moved. Somehow the “art” of authentic movement feels closer to sharing the essence of our aim. The “art” in this case is what we call “creative forming,” the time in our practice when “movers & witnesses” dialogue with whatever has been somatically moved using paper, pens, scissors, crayons and clay. Since “moving” disappears as quickly as it comes into being, it’s through creative forming that participants bring their inner and outer movements into not-quite-so fleeting form. Through journaling, drawing, sculpting, collaging or painting, we allow the mess of our impressions and narratives, feelings and limitations, insights and inspirations to organically emerge into two (or three) relatively static dimensions.
But sharing the “art” of authentic movement (or specifically my “art” of authentic movement, since like movement, the individual diversity of creative forming is vast) also misses the mark in illuminating the rich and varied terrain of this transformative practice. For one thing, we’re not here to make “art”! We’re here to explore (and discover) who we are as human beings. Remember those vast realms of interplay between psyche & soma? Our creative forming may offer a window into a moment’s interplay inside us or between us but it’s not the essence of the thing we’re doing. It’s one finger of many, pointing to one “moon” of many…
So what’s to be done? Shall I stand empty handed on a cacophonous digital corner hollering: “Step right up Ladies & Gentlemen (and gender non-conforming Humans)– try Authentic Movement where you too can experience “miracles of inner transformation”!“
Well…yes I shall (this blog included). And of course, testimonials like this one help to convey what’s possible & worthwhile about the form too.
Meanwhile, recognizing that it’s merely a few “fingers” pointing to the stream of my own experience, I offer the “art” (creative forming) here on this page as a window into the themes, musings, expressions and textures that this precious practice has evoked IN ME over the last six months (September 2025 – March 2026).
May sharing these bits of my creative dialogue with the evanescent interplay of my peraonal psyche/soma inspire you to explore & embody (and creatively dialogue) with your own!
I often bang the drum for what Biodanza IS but I’ve never written about what it IS NOT and how it’s distinct from the many other amazing conscious dance forms there are in the world. So this post offers a few bits in that vein for clarification & inspiration purposes. Enjoy!
#1: Biodanza is NOT a place to do your own thing. Everyone who knows me knows that I LOVE doing my own thing on the dance floor! But that’s not why I brought Biodanza to RI in 2018. While there’s no choreography and each song offers us an invitation to explore an aspect of who we are in our own unique way, there is a carefully curated arc to our exploration and that arc is not “just about me.” From a structural perspective there is no Biodanza without at least one other dancer. When asked to distinguish Biodanza from Gabrielle Roth’s 5 Rhythms (in which it is possible to dance an entire 5R wave solo), creator Rolando Toro noted that Biodanza’s “whole purpose is to help you communicate with others; to go deeply into intimacy.” Yes, individual consent is embedded into every dance and one of our primary aims is recovering, building and honing our own internal compass. But we refer to Biodanza as “the poetry of the human encounter.” While that absolutely includes encountering ourselves in new ways, the process of reconnection with self rests in the rich and fertile ground of connection with our fellow human beings. What emerges through our iterative dances with one another are webs of connection and community that lay at the foundation of true individual & collective wellbeing.
To me, regularly setting down my “own personal dance agenda” in service of this aim is not only a gift to myself, it’s what I believe the world is most deeply hungering for…
#2: Biodanza is NOT a great (physical) workout. There may be several moments in a class in which you find yourself out of breath or with perspiration on your brow but these bursts of energy help set the stage for deeper exploration, nourishment and rest. If you long to vigorously sweat your insides out while dancing, better to head to Nia, “Sweat your Prayers”, an ecstatic dance or even a contra dance. Instead of physical release, Biodanza trains us in stretching our heart’s capacity to connect (yikes!) while strengthening our inner compass, our boundaries and our courage to take initiative in service of our deepest longings. For me, it is the spirited “gym” I go to —no spandex required— for somatic training in self regulation, human connection, vital energy & belonging within the web of life.
I love shaking my tail until my feathers come off too (WHEE!) and I know well the glow of the universal dance, regardless of its name. That said, I have come to trust that when I emerge from the unique arc of Biodanza, the diversity of cells in my body will feel nourished, resourced and renewed and my (strong & mighty!) heart will be beaming with gratitude.
#3: Biodanza is NOT a group portal to S#X. Yup, I actually heard this once and it makes me SO sad that simple human contact– the embrace that we long for from our very first breath– gets pigeonholed into our culture’s obsession with sex. Sexuality is an essential aspect of being human and it’s one of the five core energies of life that we integrate within and through our dances together. What’s more, we get to explore the underlying currents of sexuality & desire like we do everything else in Biodanza: with progressivity, self regulation, and in feedback with ourselves and each other. When tricky stuff comes up on the dance floor (which often reflects the same tricky stuff that comes up in our lives) it offers us an opportunity to see old patterns, practice new boundaries and test new waters within a safe group experience in which everyone is fully clothed and consent is foundational. I’ve been dancing Biodanza for a decade now and it’s true that I’ve had some wicked fun, sensual & sexy dances over the years as well as some of the sweetest cuddle piles ever. But if Biodanza is a portal to anything, it is to falling in love with life.
#4:Biodanza is NOT just a happy smiley happy dance. It’s true, Biodanceros are known to smile a lot, but it’s not a mask we paint on our faces to please others. Rolando Toro designed Biodanza to reestablish the conditions that nourish life. Instead of trying to fix “what’s broken in humanity” Rolando sought to affirm and rebuild “what’s right about humanity”. Through both playful & tender dances we rediscover our essential wholeness and the reflection of our own beauty in the eyes of our companions. In that process our deeply patterned fears of connection can arise, resistance might emerge and tears may fall, which all get to be held within the container of our human connection. We gather to FEEL our humanity, and we welcome all of it— our happy, connected, playful bits but also our grief, disconnection, aversion, confusion or despair. The extraordinary gift of Biodanza is this: when we feel “all of it” within a carefully tended & embodied container of warmth, connection & belonging we steadily regain the joy that is our birthright as human beings. And that, for me, is definitely something worth smiling about.
Biodanza Monography: A Journey in Service of Nourishing Life
This monography is a reflection on my journey exploring Biodanza from 2016 to 2025.
I successfully presented it in July of 2025 for certification as a “Professor/Facilitator of Biodanza” to Carolina Churba Doyle, Director of the Biodanza School of Rhode Island and Viviana Toro Matuk, representative of the international organization Biodanza – Rolando Toro (BRT). BRT’s mission is to “preserve the integrity and evolution of Rolando Toro’s Biodanza System following its theoretical model and to spread Rolando’s artistic and intellectual legacy.” Viviana (below on right) traveled from Italy for the occasion and is also Rolando’s daughter!
Shared with gratitude and as an invitation for us all to “re-establish in each instant of our lives the conditions which nourish life.”
“How is it that I never noticed the tyranny of music!?!”
The realization that music was a tyrannical master hit my dancing body square in the chest the first time I was invited to explore “dance” WITHOUT it.
WITH music, my body willingly & joyfully enslaves itself to the surrounding rhythm, timbre and tone. When strings play my body-heart predictably flies or mourns. When drums play, my legs sink and my hips pulsate. When a trumpet plays, I swirl into the center of the sound like a snake called to its master’s flute. When melody ripples and lyrics bob up and down just so within their intended current, I dutifully immerse myself into the resulting emotional stream.
But to dance WITHOUT music: what a revelation!
I dove in. And each time I returned to the riverbed of this music-less dance*, I discovered an inner dancer eager to explore its own rhythm, timbre and tone. It flowed in a capricious current that longed –not to be danced in siloed spurts to fill out someone else’s score, not to be sliced into words and delivered from a proverbial couch– but to inhabit itself fully in 3D, to splash and crash, trickle and gush, diving and leaping within its own unpredictable rhythm & flow. This dance(r) longed to be felt completely, to be seen and known not only from the inside out, but also from the outside in. And to be seen and known from both directions without labels like pretty or ugly, weird or boring or wonderful.
So I kept on swimming in the current of my inner dance (quieting the labels as best as I could) and learned to follow the impulses hatching in real time. I learned to be brave in embodying the under-the-surface terrain, dancing it into being without an external musical master controlling the score. I discovered that unlike any dance floor I had ever danced on before, this one could hold ALL of my dances in real time:
the dance of a woman lying in exquisite repose,
the dance of a woman screaming with her fists in the air,
the dance of a folded up woman with criss-crossed limbs flailing pell mell on the floor,
the dance of a woman rolled up into a rug,
the dance of a woman writing a long emphatic letter in the air with her index finger as her pen,
the dance of a woman running & leaping in ever widening circles, faster and faster, until she falls down flat in a heap.
All the while, from the banks of what at times appeared to be an irrational, anarchic and seemingly-deeply-unhinged flow, a staid & steadying force (a witness!) sat upright and still, eyes wide open. Perched like a lifeguard (and tangentially charged with holding the safety whistle), this witness’s primary task was to track everything that transpired: the external movements of the dancers diving (often with their eyes closed) into their own murky and mysterious waters as well as the internal movements of the witness’s own physical, psychological & emotional ebb and flow.
From this privileged & holy vantage point I saw an arm reach up with its fingers outstretched as if it longed for the ripe peach on a too high branch. I saw tears drip off of a chin onto the hardwood floor and I saw another dancer’s hand on the floor smearing the tears like paint. I heard high pitched exclamations while knees dropped to the floor, as if a lost child had just been found. I watched hips thrust wildly in the air (for what? for who?) while nearby, at the heart of a body that otherwise could have been dead, a chest gently rose and fell, rose and fell.
I tracked all these dances alongside my inner dances, noting the ones that drew me in, that bored me, that repulsed me, that made me laugh. I began to notice that what lived in my own breath and meandering thoughts was relational. When the dancer danced, what danced in me? As my inner dance projected its swirl onto the outer dance in its own never ending stream, who was the true initiator in the relational flow? The witness or the witnessed? The experience or the experiencer? What of all this might be relevant (vital?) for me to acknowledge as I watched, sensed and navigated the currents flowing before me (as well as the internal & external currents of my “real” life)?
Over time, I began to know that the witness was always witnessing itself (inside and outside), responding to itself, bored with itself, in awe of itself.
Jumping back into the river again, I found other bodies (my body?). A hand gently reached out for mine and I held it just tightly enough to convey that I wanted it to stay. Moving slowly backwards, my hind quarters met another set of hind quarters in surprise: a sacred pause of acknowledgement followed by an almost imperceptible invitation (whose?) to sway into the curves of the other, gaining speed, dropping low into the gyrations of the hips until abruptly (who first?) we walked away. Sound vibrations from across the room met my inner drums translating into recognition that this was a song for the dying so I joined the singers’ song from afar, adding my voice to the unexpected communal release. Rolling slowly over onto my back, I let my head lollop onto a neighboring belly, let it rise and fall gently with the comforting rhythm of our one breath.
When the bell rang, I stood on the banks of it all: I found my journal and wrote the phrases alive in my heart while scribbling images from the inside out. I grabbed a large piece of white paper and drew sweeping movement with markers and crayons and oil pastels, filling the spaces in between with tiny black ballpoint words to remember (and/or to forget). I cut up strips of notepaper and rolled the pieces into tiny little balls and blew them towards each other and then away. I manically pulled and twisted clay into shapes that just minutes before had been inhabited or felt or seen.
When the bell rang again, I (we) gathered up what had been moved and witnessed and created in our individual & collective stream. I (we) wove all of our grasses and shells and stones together into the finest of riparian tapestries, made of momentary color and heart, gestures and sound. Lifting it up, we celebrated, then let it dissolve into the air that we breathed. I smashed the clay back into its source, recycled the paper, swept the movements up into a dust bin and discarded them whole. There was no need to hold onto any of it; there was an endless supply of this kind of thread.
In all this, week after week, year after year, I learned to deeply trust the ever-shifting currents of my own inner dancer. On a floor that could allow all of me– small and big, loud and quiet, fast and still, together and apart– I steadily expanded my capacity to say “yes” with my whole body while honing discernment regarding safety & boundaries & restraint. The more I dove into this inner dance– the one without the “tyranny of music”– the more it became my true north for everything else: of how I met myself, how I met the other, how I cared for all my inner and outer parts, my inner and outer selves.
And ho! On this simple empty-full tyrant-less dance floor, dancing week after week to what seemed like a disorganized patternless chaotic score, an enduring freedom of “being” began to emerge. A freedom of being that was not content to stay in the riverbed but started to spill over into the marshes and forests and fields of my everyday life.
There, here, now, the inner dancer sometimes moves in its full wild-river glory and sometimes it meets the everyday dams and jetties of long held (ancient?) fears & betrayal. Is it really OK to be seen as I am? Is this inner score enough as it is? Can I trust this current to carry me home?
“Yes!” my inner dancer proclaims loudly, with vigor and verve. “Let me move freely through you, everywhere, in everything! Let me dance with you as an intimate partner. For life! ‘Til death do us part, and maybe not even then!”
“Yes!” I reply in every breath that I remember.
And yup…
…for whatever it’s worth, my inner dancer and I? We still make time (willingly & joyfully & gratefully) to dance in the company of that most tyrannical (and beloved) of masters: music! ________________________________________________________________ *Often referred to as “authentic movement” or “contemplative dance,” I offer my heartfelt thanks to Michelle LeBrun for introducing me to the basic form as well as deep gratitude to my wise & wonder-full teacher Alton Wasson for significantly shaping my exploration of it. I periodically offer an Authentic Movement Series (open to beginners and more experienced movers) as well as a closed group variation called “Embody Freedom Practice (EFP)” which emphasizes connection & contact as well as deep nature-play. Learn more and join the next Open Series in the Fall of 2025.
Embody Freedom 