Energising and calming — a silent disco followed by an evening swim

5 Rhythms - dance as a liberator

I've survived the Leaving Cert and Junior Cert (as a mammy) and as exam students around the country finally let their hair down, I equally feel the need to let loose. So, when 5 Rhythms teacher, Jenny Fahy, said she was putting on a silent disco dance on the shores of Lough Derg followed by an evening swim and a stint in a mobile sauna, I thought, ‘yup, sign me up’.

5 Rhythms is a movement mediation mind-body dance experience, started by American Gabrielle Roth in the 1970s — it draws on shamanistic and ecstatic traditions. In 5 Rhythms a teacher guides you through an energy wave incorporating flow, staccato, chaos, lyrical, and stillness by using different music and encouraging words. Generally, things start slow, get faster, and end in stillness, energising the body and calming the mind.

“There is no such thing as a good 5 Rhythms dancer, there is no such thing as a bad 5 Rhythms dancer, you decide how your body is going to move,” Jenny, who teaches in Limerick, tells us.

Putting on headphones some opt to groove barefoot; but, having sprained my ankles numerous times in the past, I decide to keep my runners on for now. 

Jenny Fahy, teacher at 5 Rhythms

The music starts: I look out at the stillness of the lake, where birds are swooping and butterflies and dragonflies are skimming the long grass and rushes. I close my eyes and see the orange, setting sun on the inside of my eyelids, I raise my hands upwards, my body suffused with summer warmth. So far so good.

The individual headphones with volume control really do help you feel like you’re dancing like nobody is watching, except there are of course some people watching. There are one or two mobile homes in the nearby carpark and I think I see parents clutch their children just a little bit closer while we all writhe, prance, jump, shimmy, shake, and jerk silently.

As we move through the playlist Jenny encourages us to explore partnership, so we dance close to people’s personal spaces, ‘making shapes’ but not intrusively. One lady looks like it all might be a bit too much for her — she keeps to herself, eventually lying down on her yoga mat. Most of us though are willing to explore subtle, almost childish connection. Smiling and laughter are inevitable.

Now we move into groups of four, then we part again. At some stage I lie on the ground, my eyes shut, pumping my arms, rolling my fists back and forward, twisting my neck, pumping my feet, arching my back, letting all the movements come out of me any way they want. I probably look like a dog with fleas.

The music has moved to lyrical. Off come the runners. I find myself standing. Now I’m making small intricate, flowing movements. After 90 minutes it’s over and as it ends I realise everyone else is lying down. It’s ok, there is no judgment.

Jenny asks us to remove our headsets and observe our environment, it’s quiet save for the sound of the wind and bird songs. In the field behind us, cows chomp grass, totally blasé about the convulsing humans. I’m so hot I decide to take my first-ever dip in Lough Derg. There are little fishes. It’s lovely. Okay, it’s bearable.

The shores of Lough Derg, where the dancing took place

I chat to the women and the one lovely fella about their dancing history, and then it’s into the mobile sauna. We’re already demanding another outside dance session and Jenny confirms one for a Saturday morning. I drive home, my legs like jelly. “This dancing lark is great craic, better than the pub,” I tell Himself.

Roll on round two. It’s Saturday morning. I’ve had four hours' sleep. I’ve been nursing what feels like the beginning of a cold all week. I don’t have a lot of energy for shenanigans. Today’s dance movements are very small, I find myself stroking my face and neck gently over and over as if I’m in love with myself, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and the heat of the morning sun into my eye sockets. I assure my body we’re doing nothing mad today, but then the wave moves to staccato. I like this beat.

We partner up, we make foursomes and groups of six, weaving in and out. Weirdly it really is like a disco, but whereas in a disco you stick with who you came with, this genuinely becomes a friendly group connection.

The music moves to chaos. I have to lie down or I’ll collapse, I bang my feet, then sit up and convulse my midriff, my knees bent and pushing outwards. Nature is everywhere; bees, moths, three butterflies dance around each other in the long grass.

J Lo plays next. I’m on my feet. “JLo is all about the hips,” Jenny tells us.

The canoeing club pass by and rubber-neck our antics. Eventually, the music slows and Jenny plays ‘I don’t like Reggae, I love it'.

Soon after the music stops. A swan flies across the lake. We hold hands in a circle. It could be naff, but it isn’t. If you love music and dance and want to be in a space where you feel connected and not judged, this might be for you. Personally, I’m feeling alive, lithe, and flexible after just two sessions.

The vibe is happening again for Lughnasa at the end of August. Be brave. This might be your tribe.