Day Five

"I feel like I'm with my own people."

Those were the last words I said to the DMT group at the end of the summer intensive. I meant it, even though we were a mixed demographic. We all have a love of movement and a basic desire to understand humans. And this was played out all through the program.

I had felt difficulty integrating myself into the group as usual. And if not for a new found friend who reached out to me and made sure I joined in and was comfortable doing so. We had similar personalities and when we danced, we were drawn together. I felt another voice bubble to the surface when I free formed with her. I've never experienced that before! By the end of the course, this voice had got louder and I went around "talking" to all the other girls at our closing freeform session! It still brings up strong emotions now when I think back on it. I am overwhelmed that I can do this.

I don't yet know the connection between movement and neurology, and to be honest I sometimes feel that DMT is too much of an art than a science. I could not wholly appreciate the effects of the exercise we did (might be because as a dancer it's all very normal stuff), but the results shown in the case studies made DMT an undeniably powerful form of therapy.

We watched a video of an 87 year old patient with Alzheimer's who had regressed into a non-verbal, inward state. She would sit in her chair and remain unresponsive. The therapist would speak gently to her, touched the area around her eyes as if wiping away tears, and would speak out the patient's emotions. Then she started to sing old hymns to the patient. She sang Jesus Loves Me. Then the patient looked up and into her eyes. And she started tapping the arm of the wheelchair with her palm. When she started to tap harder and faster, the therapist sang louder and faster too, duplicating explicitly what it was that the patient was feeling inside. The patient felt so strongly about it, that she started slapping the chair. She then transferred that slapping to the therapist's arm. And at this point, she had found the human connection. I will never forget that look in the patient's eyes. It was burning with life! THEN, the therapist switched songs. She sang " He's got the whole world..." and the patient responds by mouthing "in His hands." And they went back and forth for the song's chorus! Alzheimer's had taken away her speech function. But here she is speaking! The therapist asks "Do you feel safe with Jesus?" the patient mouths "yes" with full eye contact.

I was completely blown away. Could not stop tearing when I watched that. And I know now more strongly than before that non-verbal communication is my thing. It sits in my belly like a heavy weight that needs to come out. I feel very much for people who are trapped in a speechless world. Perhaps it is a personal analogy.

This is a relatively young community, and the nascence of the subject has resulted in schools closing down programs because it is not yet a popular subject. The people who facilitate the courses are only 2nd generation from the pioneers. As one of my classmates put it, I feel like I am (already) meeting celebrities in the field. And some times along the way, I find myself devaluing the subject, telling myself that this doesn't have sufficient history behind it, and it might just well be a nerd trend that only a handful of weirdos were interested in. But you know what? Imma just go with the flow if the world don't mind.

So I'm leaving Keene today. I will miss this little town where it's perfectly alright to smile at strangers, its vintage architecture, organic superfoods, and crazy weather. I'm getting on the greyhound where I'll have 6 hours to tune back to city dwelling. There was absolutely no time to lose since my bus driver stood by and watched me load my own luggage into the bus, and then he KICKED IT IN because it wasn't far in enough. Hello New York.