Around and around we went, the circle spinning, the feet, the steps all in time, methodical.
The music repetitive as the world vibrated with each pluck of the strings. All in a trance.
Earlier that day the steps had been practiced in the village at the top of the hill, quiet and shaded from the midday sun, there had been laughter as the novices had stumbled over their feet desperately trying to understand the steps.
But in this moment in the late morning hours of the night, the rhythm and the steps were natural. The body had learnt. The mind was not really there, there was no counting of the steps, no thoughts of what happened next, just the feeling of hovering in one’s own body. A shimmer, a vibration, a relaxation.
Sound, body, heat all meshed into one.
Life From the Dirt 