In honour of a small, wild dancer

Hello, dancers.

I'm sorry that there won't be a Sacred Grooves Dance Meditation this Tuesday night at UNSW, as, among other things, this is my daughter's birthday. Tomorrow she would have been five.

We lost her twenty months ago to cancer, when she was just three. I started Sacred Grooves a couple of months after she died, after spending hours on the beach with bluetooth headphones on, dancing like a crazy woman while the sun rose, or set, or meandered across the sky.

I danced up paths and down main streets, to music nobody could hear, with passersby laughing with or at me, dancing alongside me, or looking at the ground in discomfort. I danced with tears streaming down my face, I danced in effervescent joy, I danced with the clouds, the stars, and always, always, my invisible dance partner was a cheeky, flame haired creature who loved nothing better than to eat witchetty grubs, barefoot, in a tutu, and dance around the fire we'd cooked them on, thanking Earth Mama for giving her such yummy food.

I have been dancing through my grief ever since, and started Sacred Grooves to open a door for others to dance their stories. And over the time people have come to share this style of dance, a journey of the heart, a revelation of the deeper mysteries we all hold.

So I am sorry to say I won't be dancing with you all tomorrow. I hope you understand. I shall be on my beach, with my headphones on and my arms raised and my feet making patterns in the sand. I'll be picking out all the shades of amber and titian in the clouds, the colours of my little wild wolfcub's fur, and I'll be remembering her birth, all ten pounds of her; and her life, all three years of it; and her passing, in my arms, with Lee wrapped around us both as she flew away on the wings of our song.

Thank you to everyone who has come to a Sacred Grooves over the last eighteen months. Thank you to everyone who has sung in the shower, wiggled in their lounge room, broken into a shy groove when your favourite song came on in a shop, or rocked it in the car. Thank you for listening to what is moving inside you, and giving it a shape. Thank you, all of you, for your part in the dance.

And tomorrow, if you think of it, and you're feeling it, have a little dance in honour of my little dancer.

All my love

Gina Chick.
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