Entry Dance

When I set up an Entry dance, I usually use a long, simple, fluid and contemplative dance.  Even if the indications of one of the traditional dances is to hold hands, I will have the circle not hold hands. I then ask the people who are coming to the event to pause before they enter the dancing room.  To calm themselves, and then to enter. 

Upon entering the room, they will attune to the energies in the room ... the way things feel, the mood.  If they are able, they will attempt to feel the level of emotional calm or violence in the people present and in themselves.  They will also feel the amount of critical intellectual energy that is slicing through the room - or the openness and receptivity of mind that is gracing the room. 

They will then attempt to enter the circle of dance without causing a ripple either physically, emotionally or mentally.  This is  a matter of inner, natural etiquette (see).  In this way people are taught without words but only by a tactile experience the way of balance between themselves and the others about them.  It is certainly a simple and deep self-initiation that people give to themselves when this opportunity of experience is opened to them. 

One of my favorite stories of a misconstrued entry occurred to me when I was with Yakzan Valdez, the dance master and sheik, of Brazil and Hawaii.  I had been a member of his circle for a number of years, but my life and business had kept me from the dance for well over three months - I might say three tumultuous months.  One evening I was determined that I would make it to YakzanÌs open Monday night dance. 

I made things happen and, a little later than I wished, found myself racing over the pali (the mountains) of Oahu in an attempt to get to The Church of The Crossroads (where Yakzan held most of his circles) on time. 

But I was late.  I parked the car near by and raced down the walkways, into the courtyard and to the building where, inside, the dance had begun.  Inside there was a huge hall, I knew, with perhaps one hundred or one hundred and fifty people in circle.  Across the front of the building (one to either side and one in the center) were three huge double sets of heavy  wooden hall doors.  I raced without hesitation - and without calming myself in the slightest - towards the middle set of doors which was closed.  That was the set of doors most used.  Directly inside those doors, I knew, would be several large tables with pamphlets of various sorts from the community at large and a box full of coins and paper money, donations for the evening. 

I fairly leapt to the door and reached for the handle. 

The, I should say here, was one of those perfect Hawaiian evenings.  Eighty two degrees outside.  Not a breeze in the air.  Calm and sweet.  The fragrance of the Plumeria was wafting softly like a thick nectar about five feet above the earth.  A perfectly calm and soft evening.  BUT when I reached for the handles to those massive doors, a wind came of a sudden from up behind me so strongly that the gale force gust blasted the doors open before me as well as the other two sets of doors, knocked over the tables inside and sent all the pamphlets and paper money curling and flying through the hall inside while the myriad of coins rolled like a massive miniature calvary out across the hall floor and into the circle of dancers. 

My hand was left  suspended there where it had gone to tae the door handle.  Yes, my mouth was open and, yes , I felt quite naked as the entire circle stopped, turned, and looked at me standing in the open doors.  As chance would have it, Yakzan was standing directly on the other side of the large circle and facing me. 

Calmly and with all his boyish sweetness, he instructed me to,  Ïgo out and try to come in again.Ó