I have been an avid 5Rhythms dancer since 2009.
This is a movement meditation practice where you simply show up, dance to a ‘wave’ of music encompassing various emotional states and tempos, and through the process get more in touch with yourself, your body, your feelings, and others.
Initially, I found this practice so liberating, because the atmosphere is so nonjudgmental and accepting. I didn’t have to get any steps right or present in any particular way. Dancing wave after wave and doing deep dive retreats helped my embodiment process enormously.
Yet, there have always been challenges with dancing, and these have increased since I have no longer had the funds to do deeper dives (with the safety of a closed group over time) and have to rely on drop in classes, which tend to be hit-and-miss for me. More recently, I have discovered that these challenges are related to being autistic.
Please don’t look at me
(My partner actually bought me a sketchbook with these words on the cover, accompanying a grumpy-looking cat).
One of my least favourite things is to be watched while doing almost anything, which is something I’ve found is common with autistic people. I play music and sing, but much more often with others than to others. Recently, I sang at my first open mike and was shocked to discover how much more difficult it was than singing in a setting where people could hear me and join in if they wanted, but no-one was particularly looking.
We’re supposed to ‘dance as if no-one is watching’. But in reality, in a 5Rhythms class, there will be times when my eyes catch another’s, and there are moments when the teacher, whose job is to hold a safe and encouraging space, will also be looking at me. It can take me over an hour to get over the self-consciousness of this and to stop seeing my body movements as if from the outside. This is another aspect of masked autism: being hyper-aware of one’s facial expressions and body language when interacting with others, worrying about ‘getting it right’.
It usually takes me a long time to actually enter into my own experience and surrender to the music. Just going by how confident and fluid the other dancers often look, I feel as if this takes me longer than the majority.
Sometimes, and more frequently lately, this shift never happens, and I go home despondent and disappointed.
Connection vs Disconnection
Partnering with others on the dancefloor has its own perils.
I have had some beautiful, enlivening and inspiring dances with others in 5Rhythms classes. But still, even after 14 years of this practice, when the dreaded words issue from the teacher’s mouth: “Now, take a partner”, I have to face the fear of rejection that comes with Autism and ADHD-related RSD (Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria) and C-PTSD (Chronic Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), as well as my version of the phenomenon that the average neurodivergent person has had thousands more negative interactions than a neurotypical person by the time they reach adulthood.
I am prone to leaving my own dance behind as I try to connect with the other person. I can only seem to connect with them by giving them attention, but giving them attention takes focus away from my own proprioception. This means the sense of what my own body feels like and how I experience my sensations from the inside — something that is often more difficult for autistic folks.
My dance can easily start to mimic the other’s, and if I persist with staying in my own natural movements, the whole exercise begins to seem pointless because I might as well be dancing on my own. I feel more alone than ever, especially when I see, out of the corner of my vision, others creating seemingly effortless partnered dances while smiling, enjoying themselves and still doing what looks to me like ‘their own dance’.
I often exhale a huge sigh of relief when the teacher tells us we can move on — my favourite phrase to hear in a 5Rhythms class is “Now go back to yourself”. Being with myself is always easier and far less complicated.
I was recently discussing with a fellow autistic friend and dancer that we often feel, by the end of a dance class, a strong sense of isolation and a frustrated, sad longing for connection, while also knowing that we have unconsciously blocked it at every turn. I remember on many occasions looking around at the end of a class (since I often have my eyes shut for much of the time) and seeing almost everyone in connection, often in big groups and ‘cuddle puddles’, yet I have somehow missed being part of this — and it doesn’t always feel like a choice.
Unless I know people well, I seldom spontaneously partner with others in a class (outside of a teacher’s invitation), though I often see others doing so. Because of the autistic difficulty with reading social cues, I find myself wondering how the dancer who approaches another dancer just knows whether, when and how to approach. Often I watch this process happen and can clock zero cues that Person B is open to dancing with Person A, yet Person B seems to welcome the approach and they effortlessly start moving together. Of course, I don’t know what’s going on in their heads, but I do know that I wouldn’t feel confident approaching someone without more obvious cues that it is welcome. It’s far too risky!
I remain curious about how to engage with others on the dancefloor in ways that feel good to me, and also accept that much if not most of the time, I prefer to be in my own space, connecting with my own body and the music. I am comparing myself to others far less in this regard, recognising that my own needs and preferences are just as valid as the dominant ‘norm’.
Honouring my own process
I love 5Rhythms and think it’s a powerful and life-changing practice, and am very grateful for the community I’ve met through it. Yet, now that I’m aware of my needs as an autistic person, and am in a process of unmasking my autism, I am no longer willing to be in a space where teachers come up to me and, however well-intentioned, question or interrupt my process around what I need to do to be resourced and comfortable.
For example, if I’m taking time out to sit on the side and gather more energy before entering the dance, or I’m in a freeze and slowly, gently coming out of my head and into my body, not quite ready to fully engage yet, or on one occasion when I had a lot of tears to release and had to pause all movement to allow that.
I am taking a step back from most drop-in 5Rhythms at the moment to be in more unstructured dance spaces, like Ecstatic Dance, where I can dance to my heart’s content with no one telling me what to do. There is usually little to no instruction in Ecstatic Dance. The downside of that is that I can more easily get lost in my head!
I want to invite teachers and space-holders to educate themselves about neurodiversity and be aware that a not insignificant proportion of their participants or students may be neurodivergent, with different needs and ‘ways in’ than others.
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