(Image Source: Dierdre Schoo for the New York Times)
Bare feet traverse a smooth wooden floor as rhythmic beats pulse through the Church of the Sparkling Unicorn in Columbus, Ohio. Here, movement becomes prayer, a sacred act of presence and intention. Dancers flow with respect for the shared space and each other, transforming freeform motion into a meditation on connection and community. This is Ecstatic Dance—a modern ritual where self-expression intertwines with collective discovery.
Contemporary Ecstatic Dance, a global twenty-first-century phenomenon, constitutes the most widespread iteration of the conscious dance movement. Conscious dance denotes dance practices that prioritize mindfulness, self-expression, and holistic healing over technical mastery, commercialization, and aesthetic allure. In Ecstatic Dance, participants engage in self-improvised movement over a two-hour period, guided by the music of a live DJ who curates a dynamic mix of electronic and world music. Thriving on six continents and in most major cities, there are over 700 registered Ecstatic Dance communities worldwide (in addition to several non-registered outlets).
While this dance form is non-prescriptive—theologically and choreographically—many dancers find the practice deeply spiritual. In this way, contemporary Ecstatic Dance may generate experiential ecstasy (from the Greek term ἔκστασις/ex-stasis, literally standing outside oneself) or heightened states of awareness, mirroring the religious experiences of ancient maenads, Sufis, Hasidic Jews, Lakota sun dancers, and others.
Many participants initially come to Ecstatic Dance simply for the music, weekend recreation, or to meet people. In other words, they do not attend the dance sessions for overtly spiritual reasons. Nevertheless, as many testify, what transpires on the dance floor enables practitioners to cultivate a personal experience of sacredness within a creative, embodied, and communal setting—independent of traditional religious structures. Through dancing, people report feeling touched by the divine.
Roots of Ecstatic Dance
In 2001, Max Fathom, a dancer and poet from Austin, Texas, started the contemporary Ecstatic Dance movement. After relocating to Hawaii to work at the nonprofit Kalani-Honua Retreat Center, he soon began a community dance group. Fathom implemented community guidelines, including no drugs or alcohol, designed to ensure participants’ safety and foster authentic experiences. Unlike conventional private dance studios, Kalani did not charge tuition. Instead, people offered voluntary “love donations.” Soon, Ecstatic Dance came to attract over 200 attendees per session.
Fathom’s inclination toward improvised dancing recalls his time in Texas, when he practiced Body Choir, another conscious dance movement inspired by Gabrielle Roth (1941–2012). As a former professional dancer, legendary fixture at the Esalen Institute (Big Sur, California), and self-proclaimed “urban shaman” who devised the 5Rhythms® freeform technique, Roth may be considered the proto-founder of contemporary Ecstatic Dance.
Like Roth and other conscious dance luminaries, Fathom gravitates toward bodily spontaneity: “[Freeform] dance helps you be in the present moment. . . The ego is always on your heels, but there are moments where you can transcend it through spontaneity.” This freeform dynamism exemplifies religion scholar Robert Grimes’ concept of “improvising ritual,” where religious rites can go “off script” in ways that intensify their sacred potency.
Differing from his predecessors, Fathom simulated a sacred aura in explicit ways. For instance, he created an altar, typically made of fruit, shells, and other offerings. Before each session, he or another participant delivered spiritual invocations in the form of spoken prayers or poetry.
Another signature element of Ecstatic Dance is the music. Inspired by the annual Burning Man festival, Fathom incorporated electronic music into his sessions. (By contrast, 5Rhythms® typically used live music and drumming). For Fathom, the repetitive quality of electronic music “mirrors tribal music,” thus facilitating a ritual framework. But far from remaining fixed and predictable, this music, like the dance that accompanies it, experiments with improvised elements.
Although Fathom never trademarked his practice, it became ubiquitous. “The church no longer meets the needs of people,” he says, reflecting on the movement’s popularity and demand. “That is why Ecstatic Dance is so wildly popular. There is a need for fellowship, safety, and a sacred environment . . . and Ecstatic Dance does this so well.”
Ecstatic Dance as a Sacred Practice
In an increasingly secular era, Ecstatic Dance stands as a new temple, offering a space for participants to transcend mundane existence. Evidently, most Ecstatic Dance practitioners do not embrace or endorse organized religious traditions. Instead, many identify as “spiritual but not religious” (SBNR), which comprises between 22% of Americans (according to the Pew Research Center) to approximately 33% of Americans (according to a 2023 Gallup poll).
While Fathom does not have a problem with the term “religion,” he suspects many people like the practice because of its absence of dogma—a signature element of Ecstatic Dance:
“The fellowship of Ecstatic Dance has a lot of value and meaning to people. And you can do this without saying you believe in a certain way, like a religion or dogma,” Fathom says. “But you can have a religious experience with Ecstatic Dance. . . And this can be expressed through an actual gesture or through dancing.”
A friend of Fathom who dances in the San Francisco Bay Area asserts that Ecstatic Dance functions like a church:
“Ecstatic Dance fulfills the [community-building] role that church used to fill. . . There is still a human need to gather. And there are not many places that feature intergenerational gatherings. I think that is why Ecstatic Dance succeeds. . . I am having a co-creation experience with other people, and I think this is what is unique about dance. And this can be a spiritual experience.”
Although this dancer does not have a traditional religious background, she desires something beyond mundane existence. Sharing intimate and creative encounters with fellow dancers creates a sense of belonging and transcendence, regardless of whether or not dancers deliberately had religious reasons for joining an Ecstatic Dance community.
Ecstatic Dance embodies the original meaning of the Latin term sacer (sacred)—that which is set apart from the rest. This form of dance prompts some participants to meditate on the mysteries of the universe, evoking feelings of gratitude and awe. The sacralizing effects of Ecstatic Dance often mirror ritual and shamanic healing, with some venues amplifying these effects through their historical sacred spaces. The architecture of these spaces plays a role in the movement ritual, allowing dancers to imprint new sacred narratives in these venues.
At the core of Ecstatic Dance is the facilitator, who creates an intentional and purpose-driven space for participants. Unlike a typical nightclub, an Ecstatic Dance environment focuses on presence, self-expression, and connection. The guidelines of Ecstatic Dance, such as dancing barefoot and refraining from substances, aim to foster mindfulness and mutual respect among participants. Facilitators are seen as architects who infuse the environment with transformative purpose and devotion, guiding dancers on a journey of personal growth and communal interaction.
Consent is a crucial aspect of Ecstatic Dance, especially in contact improvisation, a subset of the movement where dancers come into physical contact. The delicate balance between vulnerability and responsibility highlights the importance of consent within these spaces, ensuring that participants feel safe and respected.
Dance studies scholars Cynthia Novack and Ann Cooper Albright have written about how the form of dance emphasizes physical touch and shared weight, fostering interdependence and challenging gender norms, aesthetics, and individualism. When enacted ethically within Ecstatic Dance, contact improvisation can promote unity, belonging, and community. However, violations of consent can undermine this practice, leading to harm and disrupting connectivity.
To address these challenges, Ecstatic Dance communities have developed innovative approaches that prioritize collective care. The decentralized, community-driven nature of the practice encourages self-regulation and accountability, with facilitators acting as guardians of the space rather than authoritative figures. In cases of boundary violations, communities often utilize restorative justice tools such as talking circles and non-violent communication.
During a dance in a Texas-based community, a participant expressed concern about another dancer persistently seeking attention despite being rebuffed and moved away from several times on the dance floor. Without disrupting the music, the facilitator approached the individual and invited them to step outside to discuss the issue in a neutral and compassionate manner. The facilitator emphasized the importance of clear signals in a nonverbal dance space and the significance of mutual consent. This intervention led to a positive change in the individual’s behavior, aligning with the community’s principles of mindfulness and consent.
These moments illustrate how the restorative ethos of Ecstatic Dance can transform conflicts into opportunities for growth. By focusing on reflection and dialogue rather than punishment, facilitators promote genuine development and ensure a safe and inclusive environment for all participants.
Within Ecstatic Dance spaces, trust is cultivated through dance, dialogue, and communal acts of care, rather than being assumed.
A Model for Spirituality Today
As participants take their first steps onto the dance floor, feeling the music’s rhythm resonate through the space, they enter a realm separate from their everyday lives.
Ecstatic Dance offers a unique opportunity for individual expression and reimagining the sacred without traditional constraints. Through movement, breath, sweat, and stillness, “moving alone together” becomes a form of collective worship and a living prayer. This emerging religiosity, like the dance itself, is fluid, adaptable, and grounded in the present moment.
Kathryn Dickason is a Public Relations Specialist at Simmons University (Boston) and an NYU alumna. She has written extensively on religion, dance, and medieval studies, including her book Ringleaders of Redemption: How Medieval Dance Became Sacred (Oxford University Press, 2021).
Rashida Alisha Hagakore is an Ecstatic Dance facilitator and DJ who has curated transformative dance experiences in Texas, Ohio, California, and Damanhur (Northern Italy). With a background in business administration, she combines her passion for breath, body, and movement to create intentional spaces for connection and transformation.
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