Di Hinds

It was one of those things I’d ignored for too long. Years before I’d been ill — very ill — with cancer. I had a near death experience and one day woke up with the words “you have been initiated into a deep and ancient wisdom” on my mind. At the same time the words of a tune ran through my mind — it was “Rhythm of Life” — and somehow I felt at some deep level I understood the drumming, the beat of rhythm permeating ancient cultures. And the dance. Somehow I knew it.

One time I danced in a workshop as part of a performance of Twyla Tharp’s 100’s, and the atmosphere of participation and enjoyment experienced as dancers, students and others joined the throng rehearsing at The Barbican for the day seemed to infect me like some virus. I knew I had to dance again.  

It was some years after that episode I discovered 5 Rhythms, and began to dance regularly once more. In fact there was no stopping me; a dopamine discovery had been made. I love to dance. I live to dance. Conscious dance, that is. It’s sometimes called movement meditation, and I found out about it when I had been trying to meditate. Working with a Feldenkreis teacher, I spoke about my difficulties with a sitting meditation. “That’s because you need a moving meditation,” he said. “You are such a dynamic person, you need a moving meditation.” He was right. 

In the years since then I have travelled across continents to dance, and ultimately to train as an Open Floor teacher.  

What I love about Open Floor is how it has transformed my life, even somehow building on experiences drawn from my experience with cancer.

From my first experience with conscious dance I began to feel fully alive again; within the dance community is an immense sense of belonging, a strong sense of my self, a broader sense of soulfulness, and also building on the recognition of a sense of solitude. In Open Floor these are recognised as the hungers, the four ‘wild hungers’.  It is so apt - these hungers are so necessary to be fully nourished.

Relationships are central to Open Floor. Relationships with oneself, with the space around us, and with others. Human beings are relational creatures; we learn from and with each other.

I have gained so much from this practice; it seems something of a paradox, but with Open Floor, with being embodied, I have learned to listen better, I have learned to see differently and in greater depth. My experience of art is different; although this may sound strange. The experience of embodiment permeates every sense of my being, not simply my movement.

Then several years ago, at a turbulent period of my life, I experienced a small stroke — although I didn’t realise that was happening at the time. When people asked me how I knew I was having a stroke, my answer has been that I didn’t know. I thought I might be having some sort of panic attack, but had no idea it was a stroke. But I did know what to do if something serious was happening to a dancer, and told myself that script.

After my stroke, the consultant neurologist told me how fortunate I had been — if my brain damage had been only 1 cm from where it occurred, then I would have been permanently paralysed down my right side. I was able to make such a good recovery because I am a mover. I knew how to move. What a gift!