Shake It Out, All Of It

I was broken.

It’s the only word I have to describe how I felt at this pivotal period in my life. I felt like I had been shattered into a million pieces and I was trudging along, trying to appear whole on the outside. 

It was late winter of 2014—March, maybe. I was already about 8 months into my first ever teacher training course and it was the weekend of dynamic meditation. 

I had no idea what dynamic meditation was. 

So, for those of you reading who are, like I was, lost when it comes to dynamic meditation, here is what I experienced, without explanation.  

We showed up for the scheduled meditation session and my teacher, Kim, told us to leave everything in our cubbies. For our normal sessions we always had a notebook, pen, yoga mat, yoga blocks, water bottles and coffee with us in the room. Maybe even socks and a blanket (the room was fiercely cold in the winter and sweltering in the summer). 

Confused and nervous, I entered the room with the rest of my trainee group. There were about 35 of us in that 600-square foot room. We were told to spread out so we could easily swing our arms without touching another body, so we did. 

Then, I was handed a blindfold. 

I put the blindfold on. It was a scratchy, white, long piece of, what I think was, cheesecloth. I took a deep breath, suddenly hyper aware of my surroundings. 

My ears perked up as I heard my teacher start to speak. She told us that there would be 5 stages to our mediation journey. We would start with erratic breathing. Focusing on each exhalation, the breath was meant to not follow a pattern at all. She told us we would hear a bell and that would move us into stage two—letting go. This phase we would have to laugh, cry, scream, jump, shake, dance, kick—anything! Just physically letting out energy from our bodies in whatever way we felt called to do. She went on to tell us that she would be there for us, throughout the whole meditation, to make sure we were physically safe within the room— we were encouraged to really commit because she would be sure none of us would collide. Then she went on to explain the third stage. We would jump high into the air, reaching and pulling down something we wanted. When we jumped and reached, we would yell, as loud as we could, what we were reaching for. The fourth stage would be complete stillness. We would have to let our bodies freeze like a statue in whatever shape we landed in as the bell rang to transition us. 

And the last stage, I remember hearing a warm and curious smile in her voice, would embody bliss. We would celebrate and dance and express our bliss in whatever way we felt moved to do.  

“What the— “, I remember thinking. Was my teacher crazy?! Who in their right minds moved through this weird, woo-woo meditation. 

The music started and so I started— breathing in what I thought was an erratic pattern. I felt my teacher’s hands on my belly and her breath in my ear, helping me find even more chaos in my breath. I kept going. Ten minutes later, the bell rang— DING! Time to move onto phase two.  

I was sweating and only ten minutes into this hour-long meditation. I started laughing, hearing how ridiculous I sounded and judging myself with each insane cackle. I was listening to my fellow trainees laugh and cry and scream and move around the room. 

But here’s the thing. I couldn’t turn my brain off. I was present without actually being present. In that moment, I chose to laugh because that was safe. 

And that’s when I felt this tiny tsunami start to bubble up from deep within my chest. My throat got tight and my eyes, even blindfolded, welled up with tears. Accompanied by the tears were big heaving wails of sadness that I have never felt before in my entire life. What escaped from me, I didn’t even know was there. 

It’s like I had moved so much that I shook loose this raging wildfire of sadness that was buried deep within me and once the flood gates were opened, there was no going back. 

Without warning, whatever it was that was buried deep down escaped me. I emptied myself for the remainder of that stage and, exhausted, moved into the second session.  

With every jump, reach, and yell for something I wanted, I could feel myself break down even more. I dug deep for any ounce of energy I could muster to complete the task at hand. “Keep going, Brittni”, I thought. And I did. Until, at last, stillness.  

The room silenced. And suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore. I went from being hyper aware of everyone in the room, to only being aware of myself, to then getting pulled back to the reality that I wasn’t actually alone. We were all out of breath, panting to catch up with our racing hearts. We were all experiencing everything within arm's reach of one another— slowing down together and finding our new footing. 

That silence could have gone on for hours. It felt so good to me. I was wrapped up in warmth and love and support, without even being touched. 

Faintly, I heard it— the joyous music began playing growing louder with each note. I started to dance. I felt free. 

But then, my inner voice crept in. I became self-conscious of my movements. After all, I graduated with a BA in Dance, did I look foolish? When again, I felt my teacher’s hands on my hips. She was encouraging me to go bigger, to get louder, to let it engulf me. 

And I did. 

We ended our dynamic meditation and I felt rejuvenated. My shoulders were relaxed, and my jaw was unclenched, and I felt peaceful and whole, for the first time in a long time. 

That’s when it clicked for me— shaking, dancing, kicking, screaming, crying, laughing, whatever your movement choice, is imperative for letting go.  

I shed so much weight from my heart during that hour long meditation. I never wanted to go back to suppressing anything. So now, I don’t. I carve out time dedicated to moving and dancing and kicking and screaming and crying and yelling. I invite the emotions to pour out from me and you should, too!  

Now, you don’t have to do a dynamic meditation to get these results, by any means, but you do have to commit to letting yourself feel. Invite movement in— literally, shake it out. 

In the words of Florence Welch of Florence + the Machine, “It's always darkest before the dawn... shake it out, shake it out.” The dawn is such a blessing.