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by Bernadette Noll
Photography by Barton Wilder Custom Images

We meet once a week to dance. Anywhere from four to ten women arrive dressed in the comfortable, casual clothes that are our street clothes; we are all mothers of young children after all. We chat a bit, sharing our tales from the trenches, maybe have a beer, sip some water and dim the lights. The music begins, on the boom box or the iPod or whatever sound system we have managed to scrounge together for that particular evening, and we are in motion.

A few months ago, during a particularly rousing afternoon at the playground, a conversation got started about the practice of authentic movement. As described by the Authentic Movement Institute of Oakland, California, authentic movement is, "a completely self-directed form in which individuals may discover a movement pathway that offers a bridge between the conscious and the unconscious…In this work, one develops kinesthetic awareness, gaining access and giving creative expression to the inner life through an approach in which movement is the personality made visible."

This led to discussions of our own motherly kinesthetics: chasing toddlers, hoisting heavy satchels, being climbed upon, pulled on and tugged at; as far removed from free-form movement as one body could possibly get. What we longed to do and what we required to find and maintain an even balance (and just to unwind) was to move freely and unencumbered. We discussed ways we had attempted to find a centered place through yoga and exercise and stretching and swimming and myriad instructional classes. We didn't want instruction though, we didn't even want a guide, we simply wanted to move our bodies unreservedly.

At the park that day, Julia Bower, midwife and mother of two small boys, reminisced about a retreat she had attended where a few of the attendees gathered nightly to dance in a large, dimly lit room. "It was exhilarating," Bower said. "We just had the music cranking and we danced for hours." Bower wanted to capture that feeling again and so introduced the idea of a night of motherly dance, no kids allowed. After a flurry of e-mails and rummaging for an open room, the very next night we gathered in a borrowed space, in a strange corporate complex, with piles of CDs, a couple of boom boxes and a dozen or so moms.

While we were all excited to be there, we were all a bit nervous, too, or shy or unsure or curious about how this would play out. Our solitary instruction came from Margery Segal, a choreographer of free-form dance and the only official dancer among us: "Don't forget to breathe-in and out-and let yourself listen and move to the music." Slowly we began, with a sort of meditative stretching and, as the music picked up, so too did our bodies, our heartbeats, and our spirits. We were able to let go of the fears we held about what this gathering would be and to hold tight to the music and let it just take us away, leaping and dancing and jumping and stretching all around the room. As we moved, we felt the pressures release from both mind and body. For all of us to move without babies in our arms or bags on our shoulders or toddlers clinging to our legs was to fly, in a way, and to truly feel the power of dance and of a Mama Posse, too.

The following week we met again, this time in the backyard dance and Pilates studio of a neighbor and former Los Angeles ballerina, Elizabeth Fowler. As a lifelong dancer and a strong advocate of all things dance related, Fowler's own love of dance was evident in her enthusiasm and encouragement for our endeavor. I explained to her about our group and our desire to move our bodies rhythmically and completely. She understood wholly and offered her space willingly. When asked about a fee for renting the studio she responded, "Just bless the space with your mama energy and we'll call it even."

After a few weekly meetings in this regular space, we were hooked. As each of us arrived, the exhales were audible and the expectation of the dance ahead filled us with palpable joy and relief. Nearly four months later we have honed our methods and zeroed in on our musical desires: each week someone brings a CD they have compiled that involves a short, peaceful start, increasingly rising to a heart-pulsing climax, then falling back to a nearly motionless finish. The musical tastes vary but the method of arrangement remains true to our needs to start, build, explode and then wind down again.

We all feel so lucky to have created this weekly dance and we all feel dependent on this gathering, which provides us with a necessary physical, spiritual and emotional oomph that carries us through the rest of the week. When I am dancing I am purely pleasure, with no connection to my utilitarian self. I can drift away to places I have danced before, people I have known and danced with, lives I have lived and lives I have yet to inhabit.

It's had many names: Mama Posse Dance Party, Mama Mosh Pit, Mothers Unencumbered Movement, and will have many more for sure. Whatever its name, its power to rejuvenate remains the same. Since we started dancing what I have realized is we are not alone in our quest. We are one group, in one room, meeting one night a week, and all over Austin there are myriad groups meeting to dance for as many reasons.

Boot scootin' at the Broken Spoke

At the Broken Spoke on South Lamar Boulevard, most nights of the week will find a few boot scooters out on the floor dancing to the country tunes of various bands. On Thursday nights the dance floor is filled to the edges with legions of aficionados moving to the country-western tunes of Austin's own Chaparral. While the cowboy boot may be de rigueur, the crowd is mixed, as old-school cowboys dance with corporate cogs and college students mix it up with any variety of legislative retirees or ranch-hand wannabes. People come here to dance.

Rodney Brown, a Texas native, moved to Austin thirty years ago to attend the University of Texas and has been coming to the Broken Spoke just as long. Though he was standing in the corner when I arrived, it wasn't long before he was out on the dance floor two-stepping with a partner. When asked why he comes weekly Brown said, with a shrug of his shoulders, "Because I like to dance. Why are you here?" I told him about dancing and how I had started dancing weekly with a bunch of moms I know. "What kind of dancing do you do?" he asked. I admitted ours was more of a free-form dance but it seemed to me that the feeling we were seeking was the same. He laughed a quiet, appreciative laugh. When asked if it was difficult to two-step with someone who didn't really know what they were doing, Brown deadpanned, "Let's find out," and ushered me out to the dance floor. My first steps felt especially awkward and uncertain. Brown instructed me to relax back into his hand and when I did, following his lead and the music came much more naturally. It occurred to me as we walked off the dance floor that when I listened too much in my head, the dance felt too contrived. When I let my body really feel the music, the dance came unaffectedly. I shared this with Brown and he concurred with a nod and a smile, "Write it down," he said.

Rebecca Elder has only been going to the Broken Spoke for about two years now but is as hooked on the weekly event as any old-timer. When asked how she got started she laughingly replied, "Some friends said if I'm going to dress this way, I'd better learn to dance." In her western-swing style skirt and boots she took herself to a University of Texas informal course and has been dancing ever since. She advises any first-timers pondering coming to dance at the Spoke, "Newbies definitely feel welcome here." When asked why she loves to dance she replied with a little laugh and a dreamy sort of smile, "It's fun. It feels like flying. If I don't get to come for some reason, I miss it terribly. There's a definite dance withdrawal." A sentiment shared by many who spend hours twirling around the dance floor at the Spoke.

Claudia Voyles, a local acupuncturist, said for her and her boyfriend coming to the Spoke is like church. "We come every week." He was unable to attend that night but that didn't keep her from attending and dancing all night long. "You don't have to bring a partner, it's very social," Voyles said. That much was evident at each and every song. As a song ended, the dance floor would clear and people moved off to take a breather, visit, or sip a beer. As the music started up again, partners were chosen and the dance floor filled once more.

Kelly Salome, a bartender at The Continental Club, said she started dancing before she could even walk. "My mom was a belly dancer and I grew up dancing on the tops of her shoes." Salome comes weekly to the Spoke, sometimes with friends, sometimes solo, always leaving her non-dancing boyfriend at home. "There are so many great dancers here. So many regulars." She pointed out a few dancers on the floor, explaining different things about their styles, "Dancing with some people is real freestyle and can be like a total aerobic workout; dancing with others is so structured and is a study in steps and counting." When asked if she had favorites she replied heartily, "Oh yeah. Everybody does. It all depends on what kind of dancing you like."

Swing dancin' at the Continental Club

On a Monday night I visited The Continental Club to meet with local dance instructor Matt Jones. Paris 49, a local jazz band, was playing their weekly gig. Along with partner Laura Malloy, Jones operates Four on the Floor, a local swing dance and lindy hop studio. Jones started dancing in 1991 and has been dancing ever since. "I quit drinking in 1990. I started going out again a year later and that's when I started dancing. I was hooked instantly. I guess I must have an addictive personality!" he said lightheartedly.

Jones finds that swing dancing really satisfies both the body and the soul. "It's so up tempo and really has a lot of variety. For me, that's the beauty of swing dance, it leaves so much room for improvisation." Jones teaches classes weekly and dances on average a couple of nights per week. Though he has a regular day job he loves offering dance lessons and jokes that they bring in just enough to feed his dance addiction. I asked Jones if he felt anyone could learn to swing dance or if there had to be an innate sense. "For some, the rhythm seems innate; others learn. I definitely had to learn to feel the music and I truly think anyone can." He said too that whether one dances totally by thinking of patterns or by really feeling the music, the enjoyment factor is huge. "It's different things for different people but everyone can enjoy dancing on any level, whatever that intensity might be."

As a waltz started playing, Jones was called away to the dance floor. "Everyone knows I love to waltz," he said over his shoulder. He came back with a smile on his face showing a true appreciation for the dance itself. When asked what was so great about dancing with different partners he paused thoughtfully, then said, "It's just so great to feed off the energy of different partners. As no two dancers are alike, no two dances are alike either."

Women's Club swings, too

Jones says that the Austin swing crowd is the most welcoming of all the cities he's danced in, "There's an openness here, an acceptance, that is so uniquely Austin." Perhaps that's why the Thursday night dance at the Austin Federation of Women's Club ballroom, sponsored by the Austin Swing Syndicate, attracts nearly three hundred dancers weekly.

Melanie Sewell, a San Antonio native and recent graduate of Trinity University, has been dancing since she could walk and was introduced to social dancing while in high school. "We drove to Austin and went out dancing for a friend's eighteenth birthday party. I was hooked. Out of about twenty of us that went out that night, two of us got the bug." Sewell goes out dancing five or six nights per week: tango, salsa, swing, and country-western. "I love to go out and meet up with friends and dance. It totally rejuvenates me and really pumps up the endorphins."

For those considering dancing as a hobby Sewell recommends a few lessons, "It's great to learn some steps. It really boosts your nerve and gives you a courage you might not have otherwise. And one of the things you learn is to not only feel the music but feel the moves of your partner as well." Sewell feels that while social dancing takes a certain fearlessness the first few times around, once you get going and get into it, the boldness that accompanies the dance is all part of the addiction.

Sweat Your Prayers with Body Choir

Also getting their weekly dance fix are the participants in Austin's Body Choir. Body Choir started in Austin in 1994, stemming from a national movement called Sweat Your Prayers. The founder of Sweat Your Prayers, Gabrielle Roth, came up with what he calls Five Rhythms, to achieve a type of prayerful ecstasy: flowing, staccato, chaos, lyrical and stillness. Roth believed "the earliest form of prayer is movement. Tribes came together to celebrate birth, death, and rites of passage using movement and sound to create a peaceful, loving, community…to dance is to sweat and to sweat is to pray."

Body Choir loosely uses these same five rhythms to guide the flow of its music. The dancing is completely non-verbal yet encourages communication and expression with other dancers through movement. Anywhere from sixty to a hundred dancers come to the Austin Yoga School on South Lamar to clear their heads, express emotions, share the rhythms, dance alone, freak out, tap creativity or just to move their bodies.

"It's quite a community feeling kind of thing," says Sarah Bork Hamilton, who tries to attend Body Choir at least once a week. "Of course, it doesn't have to be. That's the thing about Body Choir, if you want to dance with a group you can, or if you want to sit in the corner crying or screaming or laughing and letting the music and the moves of all around just wash over you, you can. It can definitely take you away, however you choose to participate." Bork Hamilton is a photographer, often working all day on Saturdays and so appreciates the physical and mental unwinding of a Sunday morning dance session. "It just brings me back to a real me and that's where I like to be."

All around Austin there are groups of dancers meeting weekly or more: tango, contra dance, swing, salsa, free form and more. Most are open to the public and are either free or have a nominal cover charge. If one of these doesn't meet your needs, find a room and a boom box and start your own group. In the words of so many, "to dance is to fly" and it just feels so good.

Bernadette Noll can be found on the streets of Austin singing and dancing her heart out-sometimes alone and sometimes accompanied by the chorus line of her husband and three small children. You may e-mail Bernadette at bnoll@goodlifemag.com.

Dance Resources

The dance organizations cited in the accompanying article may be reached as follows.

Austin Swing Syndicate-Meets every Thursday night 8pm to midnight in the ballroom of the Texas Federation of Women's Clubs, 2312 San Gabriel. Admission $2 for members, $5 for nonmembers. For information visit www.austinswingsyndicate.org.

Body Choir-Hosts freestyle dances on Wednesday and Friday at 7:45pm and Sunday at 10am at Austin Yoga School, 1122-C S. Lamar Blvd. Admission $8 at the door. For more information visit www.bodychoir.org or e-mail info@bodychoir.org.

The Broken Spoke-Celebrating what it modestly claims to be the best in honky-tonk music in Texas, this dance hall has been operating since 1964 at 3201 S. Lamar Blvd. For information call 512-442-6189 or visit www.brokenspokeaustintx.com.

Four on the Floor Dance Studio-Offers four-week sessions on swing dance and lindy hop at 7:15pm on Tuesdays in the ballroom of the Texas Federation of Women's Club, with each class followed by a deejayed dance at 9:15pm. Fee is $10 for a single class or $15 for two classes in one night. For information call 512-453-3889 or visit www.fouronthefloor.com.

Texas Union Informal Classes-Dance classes are one of the many offerings of this long-running institution, with new class schedules each semester. For information call 512-232-5277 or visit www.informalclasses.org.

-Bernadette Noll