Southwest Leather 2009 – Dance of Souls

Last October I had an experience with needles that I could only describe as being spiritual.  Being a self-described atheist, I was really at a loss for what I even meant by using the term “spiritual”, and was confused by the very real experience of someone looking deep into my soul, sharing in the energy I was giving freely.  After that experience, I wanted to understand what it was that I had felt, what I was feeling weeks afterwards.

I first heard about the Southwest Leather Conference (SWLC)  from a fellow player at an educational event some months ago.  I mentioned it to a few people and quickly learned how valuable such an event could be to me.  SWLC  is the “woo woo” event.  That is, it is the kink event that focuses on the spirituality and the magic of the SM lifestyle more so than any other conference.    I signed up early, booked my room, and waited, not knowing what to expect.  It was held on January 23rd through 25th, 2009, just last weekend.  I write about it now looking back on the experience with fresh eyes.
There’s plenty to be said about the conference, about the six classes that I attended, about the Master/slave and Bootblack contests.  I’ll talk about this some other time.  For now, though, I’d like to relate my experience with the Dance of Souls.  Held on Sunday, the last day of the conference, the Dance was the event that I was most looking forward to.  It’s hard for me to describe what the Dance is, but I can say what I knew.

I had signed up to be pierced and hooked, two hooks through my chest or back.  Other participants of the Dance would have bells and other items of significance sewn into their skin.  Others would be witnesses, not having any piercings done.  We would dance for a few hours to drumming, some to seek an ecstatic feeling, some to feel a spiritual connection or journey.  I didn’t know what to expect.  I like needles, I like being pierced, but having hooks in my flesh was a frightening prospect.  I had a hard time thinking about them – I tried to avoid thinking about the large hooks lest I scare myself away from the event.  I wanted to do this Dance to challenge myself, to see if I could do it, and to see where it may take me, to approach it with an open mind and heart and see where it would lead.

The Dance of Souls began at 2:30pm.  Having already checked out of my hotel room and having nowhere else to go, I was one of the first people in line to get hooked.  Any fear of being pierced with a 12 gauge needle through the skin on my chest and having large stainless steel hooks threaded through it had long since dissipated.  It was past the point of no return for me; I was determined and knew there was no better time than now.

“Do you have your intent in mind?” asked my piercer?  Yes, I did.  To find oneness with others, to experience a connection with life around me, with the souls that are otherwise separate and apart.  Being the first person to be pierced by my piercer in a year, it wasn’t as smooth as it could have been.   No complaints from me though!  I focused on being there, not on the needle so much as on the journey before me.  My piercer was an anchor for me, a rock that I put my safety and trust in.  My eyes glazed over with the first poke.  The second hook went in more quickly than the first and with very little discomfort.  It was a series of events that were going to happen, needed no hesitation nor delay, and were done quickly and with little noise from me.

I tried to look down and see what it was that was now stuck in my chest.  I could barely see the hooks, and dared not touch them for fear of what that would feel like.  My breathing was shallow, my body trembling.  Someone noticed and gave me breathing advice, breathing with me to help me relax.  It worked, and with a carabiner and a long length of nylon cord tied to my hooks I began to walk around the nearly empty space, cold and alone.

The space for the Dance was the same as the play space from the night’s before.  Perhaps 3000 square feet total, a free standing short wooden frame stood in the center of the room with prayer flags (from registration) strung around the outer corners.  Eye bolts stood off at regular intervals, providing possible attachment points for my cord and carabiner.  Tables were against the Northern wall to provide a place to put items of spiritual significance.

Music was already filling the space from the dummers (Three Guys and a Bunch of Drums), a loud, beautifully tribal and primitive sound.  Cymbals and blocks rang out occasionally to accent the eight massive drums being thwacked with great force and skill.

Cautiously I attached my carabiner to the structure in the middle of the room.  I leaned back, ever so slowly, just until I could feel the pressure, the pulling of my skin.  I was still shaking, still having issues breathing full, but I was ever so slowly relaxing into it.  The feeling was sharp and hot – I dared not pull back too far.

After feeling that out for a few moments, I moved on to walk around the room.  It occurred to me that, to try and connect with people, I need to stop avoiding peoples’ gaze.  Most of us go about our daily lives with our heads turned away from others, daring not to gaze too deeply into another’s eyes for fear of being impolite, of violating their space with a glance.  When you do make eye contact, a mask springs on to cover ourselves.

Sitting around the room on chairs were some of the observers to the Dance, called Tribal Witnesses.  As I walked, I looked.  I would catch peoples eye if possible, and with some would make a brief but meaningful connection.  It took only a moment of this before I started to feel myself well up in tears.  Something grabbed me as I looked into peoples eyes, something took a hold of me and wanted to shake me.  The tears were in joy, but I couldn’t release myself to it, didn’t want to loose myself.

Within a few minutes a Witness invited me to pull with him.  He took the offered cord and carefully allowed it to become taught.  I steadied myself, leaned back and started to pull.  The burning turned to pain, the cord becoming taught. Slowly I released, keeping my breathing steady, pulling back more and more while moving, dancing to the beat of the drums.

The pain, the sensation of the hooks pulling my skin, had many different feelings.  Pain is perhaps the wrong word but it’s an easy one to use.  It’s hard to describe exactly what it feels like to have hooks in your chest pulling your skin away from you.  The most difficult part of it is that it took so many forms.  Pulling at different angles, with asymmetrical force between left and right, pulling with others dynamically, with a post statically, feeling vibrations run through the taut cord, slight jerking; all of these things changed what I was feeling.

It is a vast simplification of the hook pull to say that changing these physical factors created the feeling.  What I was experiencing at any given moment was only partially due to these things.  The physical sensations coming from the hooks flooded my nervous system, but became transmuted by the energy in the room and by the people I was with, by my ability to release and open up to the experience.

I was caught, a trapped animal.  I growled, shouting from deep inside.  As the cord was pulled, lifted, shifted, I lashed out, pawed at the ground, feeling the rage and anger of my imprisonment deep inside.  The Witness growled back, eyes boring into my own, pulling the animal further out of me.  As I pulled even further backwards, something changed.  The animal became tame.  Feelings of pleasure, of happiness flushed through me.  The more I pulled, it seemed, the broader my grin, a feeling of calmness settling over me.  My breathing became slow and deep, any coldness replaced with a warm through my body.  A touch of a smile came upon the Witness, feeding into my feelings.  We were both elated, moving back and forth, pulling, riding this wave of energy, laughing occasionally.

I pulled and danced with many people over the course of three hours.  Each experience was different, the animal within me expressing itself differently with each person.  I attached myself to the cords of others, forming circles of people swaying side to side, back and forth, creating for each of us a different but shared experience.

At the height of the event, the room was filled with seemingly hundreds of naked and half naked bodies pulling and dancing, swaying and shaking, some to the drums, others to a beat that they felt and expressed.

I sat on the ground, steadying myself, and looked around the room.  I remembered my intent and tried to feel the oneness, to open myself up to it. The people around me were all different, all experiencing their own journey.  I stilled my mind, forgetting thought, forgetting intent.  The tears came.  The more I opened up myself, the more calm I felt inside, the more I felt a flood of emotion take over me.  Not knowing what this was, not knowing how I should respond, I stifled it, holding back the tears and wracking sobs lest it be thought I was sad.  Keeping thoughts in my head to hold this back, I continued to dance and pull, continued to pull out this animal and growl and prance.

At one point a Witness beckoned for me, wanting to pull with me.  She asked me to get down on my knees, and doing so, I pulled back as she held on.  Her fierce gaze fought with mine.  During that struggle I was truly a caged animal, a wild creature wanting to show it’s power.  I was no match, though – she tamed me.  I felt her power show its dominance, felt myself being overcome.  I began to cower, to be frightened, but she held on as I released my fear, my power, and let hers take control of us both.  She held me there, sweat pouring off of her and onto me.  I hung there for many moments, feeling her as a commanding yet comforting presence who would protect and love me and demand only full control in return.  When she released me, it took a few minutes to recover myself.

Wanting to take a break from pulling with others, I lashed my cord once more to the frame in the center of the room, this time surrounded by many others doing the same.  It felt so very different.  Having no one to growl with, no one to share energy with, I closed my eyes, stilled my legs, and leaned back, feeling the vibrations of the room through my body, the frame vibrating and carrying vibrations down the cords into me.  Minutes later I felt a flitting feeling on my back, and was surprised to find a Witness touching me very lightly across my back.  Smiling my approval, she continued, and came around to face me.  Her intensity demanded a response, and she helped me bring forth the animal once again.  I looked upon her, and she yelled back at me “You don’t need me!  Just let go!”  I closed my eyes and forgot about her.  I felt the room, the people, the drums, everything all at once, and left it.  The sobs came back.  I released myself to it and felt a lightness through my body.  My head rested on the cords, my body felt slumped, perhaps completely supported by the cord and the hooks.  When I opened my eyes she was gone.  I detached myself from the frame and found a place to sit – I could barely stand.  The sobs came back and I let them.  I opened myself and let the happiness wash through me.  I felt my entire being shake with them.  A few times while sitting there someone would ask if I was okay.  I was wonderful.  I was ecstatic. I was love.

The dance slowly came to an end. After the drumming ceased, we all began to howl, quietly at first but within a moment everyone was howling as loud as they could.  We formed a circle, words were said, and the hooks began to come out.

I had a difficult time walking out of that room, walking once again into the world.  The hotel was getting ready for the next conference, a quilting conference, so the lobby was for the first time this weekend full of non-kinky people. I got my bag from the front desk after waiting in a line filled with people who looked at me as though I was a weirdo, wearing masks and peering narrowly through slits which kept themselves hidden away.  It was awful.  I quickly returned to the SWLC part of the hotel and sat slumped up against a wall feeling warmed by simply being around the people who I had just danced with, who I had shared so much with.  I saw among the group people I pulled with.  We’d glance at each other and stay there, sharing a moment.  We had a connection now, a shared experience that made us feel like we were a part of something greater.

I am very happy I went to SWLC 2009, and hope to attend in 2010 and beyond.  I am still processing the Dance, and suspect I will continue to do so for some time.  My experience may be similar to others, or may be completely different, but it is mine to cherish.  I’d recommend the Dance not as a means to experience what I did but instead as a way to explore yourself, to open yourself up to new things, and let go of preconceived notions of what is pain, beauty, and perhaps even self.

Advertisement