They say when we’re ready, the challenge arrives, because we’re strong enough to face it. But this time, I wasn’t so sure. I felt exhausted from the last storm, already worn thin. I had begun to isolate, slipping quietly into the shadows of my own mind. Depression crept in. I felt disconnected, unsure how to move forward. I craved connection, yet feared closeness. I didn’t feel like myself.

I’d learned about conscious, or ecstatic dance through clients who shared stories of healing, release, and joy through movement. (Being a mental health therapist has its perks!!) And, thank goodness, curiosity tugged me forward. I hadn’t truly danced in two decades, but I was really struggling. So, I gave it a try. 

My first taste of ecstatic dance came from Taspens in Conifer, a beautiful and welcoming space nestled in the mountains. Fifteen of us gathered in a yoga studio, moving together to tribal rhythms with few words and deep presence. The music buzzed through the space, primal and alive with passion.

When I discovered Denver Ecstatic Dance, which presented an even larger community everything opened. Music lit up the dance floor with a live DJ called Alkemizer.  I felt like I was home. My curiosity heightened for this group with the barefoot dancing, the unfiltered joy, and the freedom to move without judgment or expectation. It was extraordinary. I was surrounded by kind, open-hearted people. Some danced with playful abandon, others wept quietly, and many simply moved in stillness. And all of it unfolded somatically, without a single word exchanged.  

As I moved, I imagined myself stepping into different archetypes: the High Priestess, the Hindu Goddess, the Playful Child, the Shaman, and the Free Spirit. My creative nature was allowed to soar, as the music guided me through a 90 minute journey. There’s a moment in ecstatic dance when time dissolves and the room moves as one.  Movement flows not from thought, but from an intuition of sacred expression. 

I could move through sadness, joy, rage, bliss, all in one set. No choreography. No expectations. Just an unbridled somatic expression. It felt like an ancient spiritual ceremony unlike anything I’d experienced before. I was used to dancing at clubs or weddings, where movement was more about entertainment. This was something else entirely.  I left that event with a spark ignited, already craving more of this community.  

Why Community Heals: The Therapeutic Power of Belonging

Human beings are wired for connection. Community is not a luxury; it is a core need.

Here’s what the research tells us:

• Social connection is one of the strongest predictors of long-term health and emotional resilience (Harvard Study of Adult Development).
• Our nervous systems co-regulate in the presence of attuned others, and in a dance space, this is felt deeply through nonverbal rhythms and movement.
• Group movement increases oxytocin, the bonding hormone, which reduces pain and symptoms of trauma and depression.
• Music and collective movement create a shared altered state, not unlike ancient rituals around the fire. Healing, once communal, is reborn in these spaces.

In short: dancing with others is therapeutic. It is community-based medicine.

When Rhythm Sanctuary’s beloved founder, Ahva acquired an injury, she was treasured and treated with care. With adoration and love, the community passionately rallied together to raise support. It was inspirational to witness dance groups across the region stepping in. Meals were delivered, donations poured in, and people showed up. That movement reminded me: we belong to each other.  

Witnessing that compassion was deeply corrective. It stirred a kind of hope I hadn’t felt in a long time. Through ecstatic dance, I had found a tribe I could want to lean into.

What Is Ecstatic Dance?

Ecstatic dance is a free-form, intuitive movement practice, where music becomes the medicine and the body becomes the oracle. There are no steps to follow, no mirrors, no judgment. Just movement that arises from within.  It’s a conscious dance that integrates heart, body and soul.

Core principles often include:

• No booze
• No shoes
• No talking
• No phones 
• Radical inclusion and respect for all bodies

It’s a space to drop the masks and let your inner voice be expressed through movement.

As a therapist, I believe in the power of talking things out, but I’ve also come to know its limitations. Some pain lives beyond words. Some healing can only be accessed through the body, expressed through movement and healed with sound.   

Why It Works: The Neuroscience of Somatic Movement

• Polyvagal Theory shows that dance can activate the ventral vagal state—the physiological foundation of safety and social connection.
• Trauma research (Bessel van der Kolk, Peter Levine) reveals that healing happens when the body completes its stress cycles. Dance allows that process.
• Bilateral movement supports emotional integration, like EMDR.
•  Deep breathing + movement = increased oxygen, lymphatic flow, and endorphins.
•  We build new neural pathways when we move freely. We begin to rewrite our stories from the inside out.

The body remembers trauma, but it also remembers joy. Ecstatic dance helps awaken that memory.

Unlike exercise or performance-based dance, ecstatic dance isn’t about achieving something. It’s about being. No audience, no judgment, just presence.

Final Words

I didn’t know how much I needed ecstatic dance until it found me.

It gave me a way to express what I didn’t know how to articulate. It gave me a community when I felt most alone. It gave me joy in a time of grief. It gave me back to myself.

If you’re reading this and wondering if you belong in a space like this ~ you do. 

Want to Try It?

• Search locally for “ecstatic dance,” “conscious dance,” “5Rhythms,” or “Dance Church.”
• In Denver/Boulder: check out Rhythm Sanctuary (Thursdays), Denver Ecstatic Dance (Sundays), Ministry of Movement (Wednesdays), Boulder Ecstatic Dance (Sundays), Ecstatic Movement Tribe (Tuesdays), and more.
• Or create a sacred space at home: dim the lights, light a candle, press play. Let your body lead.

Let yourself shake. Let yourself cry. Let yourself laugh. Let yourself come home.

About the Author: Laura Hogzett MA is a Licensed Professional Counselor who blends clinical expertise with soul-centered healing. Trained in Internal Family Systems (IFS) and EMDR, Laura helps individuals navigate trauma, self-doubt, and disconnection by reconnecting them to the wisdom and love within.  Inspired by shamanic traditions and rooted in the belief that healing happens when we bring compassion to every part of ourselves. 

Drawing from both psychological insight and intuitive guidance, she supports others in returning to self-love, empowerment, and wholeness.  Laura’s mission is to help others awaken to their innate worth and multidimensional nature—with grace, humor, and radical compassion.

Let’s face it, winter is finally here.

Ski resorts are open and the powder-hungry weekend warriors are mentally preparing for the hours stuck in westbound I-70 traffic. Why the snow-mania? What could be so great about skiing that attracted 14.8 million visits to Colorado ski resorts during the 2022-2023 season? What compels people from all over the planet up to travel into the freezing cold, dangerous, snow-covered mountains?

Here in Colorado, you’ve probably recently driven past a few hundred mud-caked Subarus or Toyotas with ski racks, snow tires, and a smattering of stickers on their rear window. Positioned in between decal of the driver’s preferred outdoor gear brand and a local brewery or three, you’ve definitely seen the most Colorado-y bumper sticker of them all: The mountains are calling and I must go.

This cherished eco-epigram is a memorable quote from the father of our National Park system, John Muir (1838-1914). A Scottish American naturalist, author, and environmental philosopher, John Muir’s writings and legacy have long resonated with outdoor enthusiasts of all ages, abilities, and interests. There is something beautiful, ominous, and sobering that emboldens people to hike through forests of towering redwoods, canoe across a crystal-clear lake, or strap into skis and barrel down a snow-covered mountainside.

Why do people recreate outdoors? Because nature brings us fully into the present, mind body, and spirit. Time spent in the mountains enhances our well-being, reduces stress, and fosters spiritual fulfillment and a sense of purpose in our lives, says the research.

Skiing engages your whole body and builds strength, balance, and coordination. Every turn engages the legs, core, and arms while building endurance. High-altitude skiing boosts these benefits by increasing red blood cell production. This helps the body transport oxygen more effectively and boosts cardiovascular health.  

Beyond the physical fitness aspect, skiing can have a positive impact on emotional regulation. Spending time in nature helps lower cortisol levels, our stress hormones that have a strong influence on our executive cognition—our ability to make decisions, solve complex problems, and remember details. Spending in nature, even looking at pictures of natural landscapes, can be a rejuvenating reprieve from our complex, technology-infused modern lives.

One of skiing’s greatest appeals is the activity’s ability to induce flow state.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s research confirms that flow-enhancing activities greatly improve life satisfaction and mental clarity. On the slopes, the adept skier is compelled into the present moment. They entrust themselves to their training, muscle memory, and intuition to safely navigate the ever-changing terrain and shifting visibility of the snow-covered path before them.

Let’s shift gears and look at skiing from a more existential perspective. Hold on, it’s about to get heavy:

On the ski slope, we become viscerally aware of our human limitations. Skiers are acutely aware of the incongruity  between their merely human abilities and the awesome power of the mountain. During every descent, the skier wagers the possibility of falls, avalanches, or injury simply for the sake of feeling alive. The prominent existential psychotherapist Irvin Yalom shares this sentiment, “Death awareness is a powerful, liberating force that can free us from trivialities and petty concerns and motivate us to live life fully.”  The acceptance of death is central to achieving a meaningful life. Skiing is an act that affirms life and manifests an authentic and pervasive sense of meaning and, perhaps for some, pure joy.

Meaning, fulfillment, joy. These are states of being that give us a glimpse of wholeness.

Thankfully, we all don’t have to be an advanced skier to feel joy, fulfillment, or meaning. For the rest of us, take stock of what you value in life and your passions. Take stock of your inner world–what is calling you to adventure, into the great unknown? For some, the mountains are calling and they must go. What great thing calls out to you, a call that you dare not refuse? Whatever it is, I bet it would make an excellent bumper sticker.

About the Author: Jeff Dixon, MA, MM, LPCC, is a psychotherapist  and owner of Vocatus Counseling based in Lakewood, Colorado. Jeff was called to the vocation of counseling after witnessing the pain, isolation, and loss of meaning experienced by so many people during the COVID-19 pandemic. Jeff collaborates with adolescents, couples, and adults of all ages to recalibrate their sense of purpose and life direction, process challenging experiences, and cultivate self-agency needed to live more authentically. His specialties include men’s issues, addictions, creative blocks, spirituality, grief and loss, anxiety, depression, relationships, and career transitions. As an adoptee, father, husband, and caregiver, Jeff brings an experienced and compassionate understanding approach to therapy. Professionally, he integrates Internal Family Systems (IFS), Depth Psychotherapy and Dreamwork, Existential and Mindfulness-based approaches into his healing work with clients. To learn more about his practice or schedule a free consultation, visit www.vocatuscounseling.com or email him at vocatuscounseling@gmail.com.