Why I Dance Like No One’s Programming Me

They called it woo. I call it freedom. I started dancing barefoot in the shed because my nervous system was fried, and my heart needed to be heard.

No stage, no mirror, no audience — just rhythm and rawness. It wasn’t about looking good. It was about feeling real. About shaking off the scripts. The ones that tell you how to behave. How to shrink. How to suppress the wildfire that’s roaring just beneath your skin.

That night, under the cracked wooden beams, I remembered something ancient. Something my DNA hadn't forgotten. It was never about choreography. It was about remembrance.

When the body moves with truth, the soul speaks louder than the mind ever could.

So now I dance when I’m overwhelmed. I dance when I’m angry. I dance when I’m grieving. I dance when the world tries to shrink me down to a label or a login.

Because when I move freely — I unplug. I shake off the programming. I become my own algorithm, pulsing to the ancient rhythm of me.

And that, my friend, is the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done.

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Part of the Ritual Journal series · © Hempenology