Creating the Webbd Wheel: Women's Bodies and Sacred Dance
In which we meet Baubo and become reconnected to our rightful sensuality and sexuality ...
I do not think of myself as a feminist, although others have called me a feminist writer. I suspect the label “feminist” means different things to different people. Sometimes it’s a compliment. Sometimes it’s a deadly insult!
Labels aside, I am a woman, by which I mean my anatomy and physiology are organized around producing reproductive ova. As a woman, I’m inescapably influenced by the rape culture in which we live. Sadly, at this moment in our history we seem to be going backwards in terms of reproductive rights and other issues of justice and health concerning women and children.
My culture and tribe taught me what it means to be a woman, along with specific cultural expectations of how women behave. I learned how shameful and dangerous our bodies are, with their hungers and passions, their noises and odors, their ability to feel and give pleasure and our innate biological drive to reproduce.
Over the years of my lifetime, I’ve observed the tragic consequences of our amputation from our extraordinary bodies. We are not taught to cherish and love the way we’re made. We’re not taught to respect our physical wisdom and desire. Our culture shows us all the ways we’re ugly and wrong and teaches us how to groom and present ourselves as commodities, how to hate and hide our “imperfections,” and how to be ashamed of our sexuality.
I’ve written about sacred dance in my blog, Harvesting Stones, in this post. In fact, I’ve written several posts about dance and being in the body over the years.
When I say dance, I’m not talking about formal dance, ballet, or dancing in clubs or bars. I’m talking about free form dance. The group I started with was modeled on Gabrielle Roth’s work, which is called 5 Rhythms.
Sacred dance as a spiritual practice is earthy, sensual, and real. It’s emotional catharsis. It’s sweaty. It’s a nonverbal practice. Noises are good. Words are not used. Everyone has their own dance; there’s no way to do it wrong. Whatever the condition of our minds, hearts, or bodies, dance brings us home to ourselves and our experience. I have danced in grief and rage. I’ve had insights and creative inspiration while dancing. I’ve cleansed myself. I’ve prayed. I’ve laid down and cried. I’ve giggled and played.
This kind of practice is not about anyone else. It’s not about being attractive or wearing sexy clothes or having the right moves. It’s not about getting attention or catching someone’s eye. It’s not a booty call. It’s an intention to be intimately with ourselves with no interruptions, no distractions, no one else needing us, and no one else watching us with a critical or judgmental eye. It’s a primal expression of self.
Humans in all cultures have danced from the beginning as part of their spiritual and social practice. Dance was and is part of our observance of cycles and seasons and celebrations, and it’s a thread running through The Webbd Wheel series.
Dance is necessarily sensual, because our bodies are. Sensuality, because we’re in a rape culture, is often framed as shameful and dangerous. It makes people uncomfortable. It’s threatening. It’s inappropriate. It’s slutty. We feel guilty about our various sensual hungers and we try to repress them. We’re afraid to fully express ourselves. This opens a wide and welcoming doorway to addiction, eating disorder, mental and physical illness, and distorted, unhealthy sexual behavior.
In post #4 of The Hanged Man, you will be introduced to the ancient goddess Baubo. We don’t really know how old she is, but she appears in ancient Greek artifacts and stories. She’s an old woman, earthy, bawdy, sexually liberated, and mirthful. She appears in some versions of the Persephone myth.
Baubo helps women reconnect with their rightful sensuality and sexuality without shame or guilt. She empowers women with laughter and teaches them to revere their intuition and desires. She guides various characters in the Webbd Wheel in sacred dance; in the wisdom, power and beauty of flesh, blood, and bone, no matter what their form or age. She loves children and supports mothers.
I do not believe we can regain our health as human beings until and unless we learn to love our sensuality, sexuality, and our bodies. I do not believe we can save the planet we live on and its marvelous life and resource until we respect our own miraculous forms.
Baubo breaks all the rules of “nice” female behavior, of manners, of appropriate presentation. She’s real. She’s unashamed. She reconnects us to belly laughter and the kind of joy and silliness only children are allowed to feel for a short time if they’re very lucky.
Allow me to introduce you to Baubo and sacred dance.
(This essay was published with post #4 of The Hanged Man.)