I approach integrity by seeking to acknowledge and include all the parts of myself that guide my actions in any moment. This requires shadow work—to see aspects of myself that don’t match my beliefs about who I think I am, compassionately bringing them into consciousness. A key aspect of this for me is to not immediately try to change any aspect of myself which I may not like. To do so just sends those parts back into the shadows. Instead I am asked to hold the polarity of difference. One of the aspects of self I find most difficult to hold deeply in integrity is my sexuality. What I’m attracted to in one moment I may be repelled by in another. I am by nature a pleasure seeker. I can be hijacked by my longings, and yet attempting to control them only increases the degree to which they operate unconsciously. I can certainly control my actions, but the reach of sexual energy is both subtle and powerful. In my experience sexual energetics can only be honestly acknowledged, integrated, and communicated, but not controlled. There’s so much to say about this, but my intention in speaking to it here is simply to call forth a field of awareness: Sexuality is a primary drive and experience for me, and I don’t think I’m alone. We are all deeply affected by sexual phenomena and sexual energy. I also believe this is a key if not ‘the’ key to our creative potential.
Beyond the surface pleasures of sexuality, there is a deep pleasure in integrity. We navigate and attempt to shape our sexuality through social conventions around our movement, how we dress, our ways of speaking, and even how we use our gaze. Art has a way of cutting through and expanding these ways of relating with our sexual energies. In classically revered paintings we are allowed to openly witness naked bodies, something that is otherwise usually taboo. In film we can watch others in very intimate situations, also something we otherwise generally cannot. Even debate about what does and does not constitute sexuality for any one of us can be held by art, because it is open to interpretation. Art provides the needed opportunity and permission to get out of our heads; to feel the deeper tides of consciousness. This is why I dance.
I began the process of creating a short film of naked contact improvisation almost four years ago. I was driven to it by a deep longing and curiosity for the deep pleasure of integrity. It took a year for me to even look at the footage—to be willing to see into and through it to the roots of my longing. For me this film is full of sexuality and yet not directly sexual in action, a dynamic that I’m still integrating. I’m curious to hear how it lands for you. I invite you to watch the preview and notice what arises. If you wish to continue from that point you can navigate to the 9-minute film at www.nakedcontactdance.com.
These are unbelievable times. Collectively we are facing global issues of incomprehensible scales. On some level it feels strange to me to focus on dancing naked in such a time. However, one of my favorite philosophers, Charles Eisenstein, speaks to the impossibility of answering the predicaments of our time with more logic and technology—our problems have grown beyond such solutions. I believe it is by seeing ourselves more clearly, in all our underlying motivations, that we may approach integrity and accomplish the impossible. It is time to better know and trust our bodies—bodies who reveal what is deeply true. I hope this film may help you uncover aspects of yourself not yet seen.
I spent this past weekend at a music festival made for dancers. On Friday night the music is pumping–powerful clean sound vibrates my organs and the earth under my feet. The energies of prayer, play, and eros spiral around and through a thousand people. I am danced, sinking low to the ground in spinal undulations.
My heart aches. It aches for my beloved who is not called to this form of prayer. It aches for each person I dance with, and each person with whom I do not. I perceive myself as a communal being, danced by others. I am at my peak when in service to this—it is part of my energetic structure (a projector in human design). I am a sovereign person too, and in the heartache of opening to my surroundings I remind myself of this. To reach the communal state I cannot be seeking it directly. I witness the difference between when I am looking for someone else to fill my energy, versus when I am truly in service to the space and energy between us all. Friday night I gave myself an assignment: Every time that I felt myself longing for attention—especially that of a gyrating half-naked woman—I would return to my heart. I do not beat myself up for feeling longing. I don’t pathologize myself or layer on a ‘should’. I just feel my heart. I am sad in these moments. But as life does, I am also given some of the dances I seek. I feel the communion. Perhaps best of all, I also experience moments in which the masculine and feminine essence come through me simultaneously. I feel my body at times a man, and allowing it, also at times I am woman. To do so I must keep letting go again and again, returning both to the sadness and the fulfillment in my heart. The longing I have for others reveals itself in these moments as necessary fuel for my inner union. This, I sense, is a key tantric lesson.
There is no antidote to the desire and longing to attach. Sovereignty is not something to be attained, but rather a truth that already is. I am whole in the space of my skin and my energy. Attachment, too, is true. We need each other as communal animals. I recognize and appreciate your presence; writing this has more meaning for me when you read it. It is a lot to feel both sovereignty and attachment at the same time, and I am grateful. My heart, broken, may again fall open.
I’ve been asking myself what inroads to feeling connected with our bodies might be most accessible. People come to me seeking this experience of self-knowledge—a trust that their body knows. I’ve come to understand how scary it can be to come back to one’s body after having left a part of ourselves behind. Our bodies are people too—and when we’ve become estranged from ourselves there are often built-up emotions.
Here’s my pilot project: Body conversations. That’s all. Let’s speak and listen to and from our bodies. Let’s also speak and listen to each other about our bodies. We can drop our judgement and allow that our egoic selves aren’t actually in control of the situation. We can be in community with our bodies and each other.
Nothing fancy or revolutionary is needed. Let’s be low key and keep it real. Someone will probably tell a story that inadvertently helps us all better understand that we belong here. Maybe you’ll just listen.
Let’s try this out Thursday Sept. 1st at 5:30pm Mountain Time on Zoom. Anybody is welcome—please send this to the person you know who said they want to be more connected with themself. Please be on time to start, and you may leave the 60 minute session whenever you like.
You must sign up in advance to get the free link. CLICK HERE.
Offered by donation. If you feel called to contribute I’m at @Matthew-Nelson-180 on venmo and also at paypal.me/thewnelson.
If you have a group you would like to do this with let me know–I’m studying and piloting ways of holding these interactions.
I’d like to hold a BraveSpace Online session exploring how we foster intimacy in our lives. I’m speaking to intimacy with ourselves, others, and the divine. I believe a key basis of intimacy is being genuine and open to connection, and that being tuned in to our bodies can help us find that state. We can stop performing and be real.
Intimacy can be scary for innumerable reasons, and I think one of the most prominent is shame. In myself I have seen a tendency to project my own shame onto others in the form of expectations I think they have of me. Then I become defensive and closed. We are so programmed to feel that we need to be one way or another—its difficult to trust that our bodies and our selves are worthy of just being. Add to this a genuine desire to be our ‘best’ and it can be very difficult to meet ourselves, others, or any sense of divinity nakedly and honestly. Into-me-see uncovers everything.
There’s no one answer: Each of us has our own path for intimacy and likely even our own definitions. I know I’ve seen amazing intimacy and healing moving together in community. I’d like to invite you to an experiential discussion on the topic—both moving and speaking—in BraveSpace. BraveSpace is an opportunity to take the risk of being vulnerable.
The Details:
Wednesday August 17th 6-7:15pm Mountain Time, (5pm Pacific, 8pm Eastern), on Zoom
Sliding Scale–$22.22, $11.11 using Coupon Code ‘11’, or Free using ‘FREE’
In my many years of study and practice as a bodyworker and movement therapist I’ve been through so many versions of how I talk about it. Its always a difficult endeavor because bodywork is so completely experiential–a form of communication that takes place directly through touch. I see bodywork as sensory-motor education. It is incredibly effective at creating deep healing so long as the person receiving it desires to learn.
I made a video of me working with people so that we could get inside the process a bit. One of my favorite things that came up was the relationship with tenderness. I have a way of finding the tender spots–as experienced bodyworkers generally do. These places are not only tender physically, but often take us directly into our emotional bodies. They are personal, calling for great compassion as we go to our sensory edges. I think this is why sometimes we can resolve stuck patterns and trauma through the body without even needing to revisit the stories behind them. We can heal directly through the body. I invite you to watch the video and am curious if you see this too.
Want to experience this work yourself? Use the coupon code AUGUST20 for 20% off a session in August. Homestays and coaching available for out-of-towners. BOOK NOW
My creativity can be called upon anytime, yet responds only in its own timing. It comes in when I soften to allow it. My creativity can only be urgent when the creative focus itself is calling the urgency; this happens for me sometimes when I’m close to completing a larger project and just can’t put it down. Creativity is also relational, so the impulse to create depends upon the environment, the people, the season, and very likely the stars. These patterns can include my conscious mind and my will, but I am not in control. This is the body in so many ways. Forcing it just doesn’t work.
I have not spoken of my personal life here much. A few years ago my wife Kendy, son Eliot, and I were given a place to be: At our giant home I created a dance center that I called the TransforMansion. I invited many of you, and for a time the expression was fabulous—I was particularly grateful to hold community at a time most gathering places were closed. The neighbors weren’t into it and with the intervention of city planning and zoning that dream fell apart. It was not fully in integrity. My marriage with Kendy did for a while too, and we took a year’s separation. Now Kendy, Eliot, and I are together again in a new home, with renewed dreams, and I believe a deeper integrity. I also built a new studio in a place we can actually use it.
I have cut off my hair to mark and celebrate the space for a new creative impulse.
The fall BraveSpace retreat in Boise is seeking its proper timing. Originally planned for August 26-28th, it appears Sept. 23-25th is going to be a better fit for the majority of people who have spoken to me about attending. Do you have a desire to participate and an opinion? Please let me know!