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Yesterday, I attended my first ecstatic dance session, and my body and soul needed it. But this wasn’t just about dance. It was about something far deeper, something that had been shaking inside me all day, long before I stepped onto that dance floor.
An hour earlier, I had been in a transformative coaching training, one that stirred something uncomfortable in me. The session was about tapping into the deep wisdom of the feminine, and yet, as I sat there, listening to women around me speak of softness, of meadows and mermaids, of picking flowers and whispering in circles, I felt nothing. No resonance. No connection.
Just frustration.
I wanted to run. I wanted to shut my laptop and never come back.
Because, truthfully? I don’t know what the divine feminine means. And that terrifies me.
The invitation was to embody it, to let it rise through us, to speak from that place. But what is that place? And why do I feel nothing but disconnection when I try to touch it? I was tired of this being framed as a man vs. woman discussion. Tired of the well-worn narratives of how society has repressed us. That wasn’t what I was searching for. What I wanted, what I needed, was something raw. Something embodied.
So when I finally spoke, it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t poetic, it wasn’t full of the words people expect when we talk about the feminine. It was rage. It was resistance.
"It's all B*%&hit. It's so hard being here. I think the feminine scares me, the power to fully step into that."
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I could barely get the words out. It was like trying to speak with a hand gripping my throat. But when I finally forced them through, I was met with something unexpected.
No one turned away. No one told me to calm down. No one tried to fix me.
I was welcomed. My anger. My uncertainty. My raw, unfiltered truth.
And that’s when the fire in me ignited. The feminine I had been searching for wasn’t in the poetic metaphors. It wasn’t in the softness. It was in me. In the rawness. In the movement. In my refusal to play small. It was awakening. I was remembering that essence.
Later, when I stepped into that dance hall, I felt it, not in words, but in my body.
At first, I just moved for myself. Slow, exploring, stretching into the spaces where my edges met my resistance. I felt into my feminine and let my hips grind, my arms float, my feet stomp. I let my body show me the way. And then, I began to watch the others.
I saw the men.
And something inside me softened.
I watched them dance, and it was unlike anything I’d seen before. Not the structured, performative movements of a nightclub, but something else, something raw, tender, beautiful. They weren’t holding back. Some moved at the edges, more hesitant, but others? They were lying on the floor, others were twirling like fairies, letting their bodies follow whatever rhythm called them. It was stunning.
And I realised—this is what I had been yearning for.
Not a conversation about what it means to be a woman. Not another separation of masculine and feminine. But a space where we could bring all of ourselves, where I could bring all of myself in connection with others.
I found myself wondering about the connections in the room. Were they partners or strangers? There was so much intimacy in how some people moved together. A deep presence, a quiet trust. And I longed for that. Yet, I was also terrified of it.
I wanted to reach out, to dance with someone, to share in that unspoken language of movement. But the thought of committing to an entire song with another person felt overwhelming.
Not yet. Maybe next time.
For now, my fire is lit. And I know this, my feminine is not something to be defined, not something to be given to me by others.
It is something to be felt. To be lived. To be moved.
Thank you, dance. Thank you, fire.
About the Author
Debbie Brupbacher is a Transformation & Career Coach, ultra runner, and founder of Embodied Transformation, guiding leaders, individuals and teams through deep personal growth and self-awareness. Drawing from endurance sports, somatic practices, nature and transformational coaching, she helps others navigate life's challenges with resilience, trust, and embodied presence.
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