Hippy Church

Once a week, folks wander from out of the jungle forests of Puna to gather together for what I like to call hippy church, a guided group ecstatic dance that takes place in a large performance hale on Kalani’s property, just feet from the ocean. Ecstatic dance is the glue that binds together this oceanside community. Old school hippies with long beards mingle with the younger generation, whose hybrid of high fashion and freedom have created something more resembling ‘hippy chic.’ Little kids run around the wooden floor while friends catch up, hug and stretch. Once everyone has arrived, the group forms itself into a circle encompassing the entirety of the space. A DJ provides a small ‘sermon,’ to set the mood, an intention for the mind and body to carry the group through the experience. Last Sunday was the resident DJ’s last dance. Max was the creator of the weekly get-together and watched it blossom from a group of about ten people to a constant stream of hundreds participating each week. This week Max reflected on friends made and great memories shared, but also looked forward in anticipation to a new move for himself. He talked about how close he felt to the group and how each individual’s beauty and love had helped him to understand the divine that is in each of us. “We’re all divine,” he said, “not just those in this room." This space didn’t hold more or less enlightenment than anywhere else. What made the space created each week in Puna so special for him was how simple it felt, in this setting of love and support, to witness the divine in each other. May it make us each more willing to witness the divine in all those we continue to meet elsewhere.

Then the fun started. The beat began slowly, as the dance space became non-verbal. No speaking, no picture taking. The focus is on the movement, whatever you feel like. This was my first ecstatic dance. I’ll admit I was nervous. For the most part, I’ve always felt a little bit nervous dancing in front of big groups. In front of my mirror, I’ll gyrate to kingdom come. But I didn’t know many people, and felt a little unsure of myself and especially my energy. Would it carry me through the entire experience? I sat and watched. The beat grew from something slow and rhythmic to something more wild and tribal. My eyes darted around the room. What I saw amazed me: everyone was dancing. Not only that, everyone was dancing as though they were in front of their own bathroom mirrors, grooving to their own tunes. Some danced together, others gently danced by themselves. My fear gave way to jealousy. I jumped up and moved myself towards the center of the dance floor, looking out to the ocean, and began to move to the funky beats the DJ mixed. The music grew and grew over the course of about an hour until it finally reached a frenzied, chaotic climax. The floor shook as people jumped wildly up and down, shouting and leaping. The energy radiating from the organism created by hundreds of pulsing bodies was palpable. And my body, which so often feels tired and weary, felt lifted by the energy. I found myself in the middle, shaking and reaching, feeling how delicious it is to connect to this beautiful body this way again, how long I’ve waited to be able to dance like this. It only lasted a moment. My energy ran out quickly. I took myself over to a mat on the side of the space and closed my eyes, letting the DJ gently bring my energy and the energy of the group back down to a stand-still.

An emotion surfaced as I laid there, a deep desire to have had the stamina to have been able to dance longer, and a memory of how my body was able to move before. I cried a bit, mourning the loss of what is no longer, what I wish were. Afterwards, a realization cleared my mind. I wouldn’t be here, in this beautiful, free space, looking out on the ocean, if my body were able to move as it had before. The mourning gave way to gratitude. I am exactly where I need to be. Aloha.