Maps to Ecstasy

In exploring the full range of our body’s natural movement, we reconnect with our native animal energy, and start to be present in our bodies.

So how do we get in touch with the rhythms that are our body’s native language? The simplest answer is to “do the rhythms,” to act them out, enter into them. And the simplest, most natural way to do them is to dance them, and trust that ultimately your own body, your own energy, is your teacher. The rhythms are the practice

We know from physics that everything is in motion, and that the authentic way of understanding reality is to think in terms of motion: rhythms, vibrations, frequencies — the language of constant change, of flux

Over the years I’ve found that these five rhythms constitute the fluid structure, the DNA, of our physical lives.

Our full self is embodied. But when we look in the mirror, what do we see? A dull, vacant stare? A sunken chest? A phony smile? Go take a look. What do you see? If it isn’t a vibrant self brimming with energy and presence, then you’re shortchanging yourself on the gift of life.

our body is the ground metaphor of your life, the expression of your existence. It is your Bible, your encyclopedia, your life story. Everything that happens to you is stored and reflected in your body. Your body knows; your body tells. The relationship of your self to your body is indivisible, inescapable, unavoidable. In the marriage of flesh and spirit, divorce is impossible, but that doesn’t mean that the marriage is necessarily happy or successful.

Many shamans have been born and have died in the beat of rock ‘n’ roll — charting their journeys, dancing their demons in concert stadiums all over the world. When we’re lucky, they take us along with them.
Rock ’n’ roll has become a universal form of music. It moves beyond boundaries, beyond politics, beyond religion, economics, culture, sociology, language, custom, and ideology. rock ’n’ roll speaks to the soul of freedom. It is today’s shamanic call — back to the beat, the heartbeat, back to the body, back to basics. Rock for the rain forests, for starving children and burned out farmers — rock for the homeless, rock for political prisoners. Rock it, roll it, change it.

Gregory and I — the thinker and the dancer, a most unlikely duo — met on a common ground, coming from different directions. We had both spent our lives investigating what Gregory called “the patterns which connect.” I call them maps, maps to choreograph our energy and lead us to ecstasy, wholeness. Gregory’s work was intellectual, mine physical. I’m sure he understood mine better than I his. But his validation of my intuitive discoveries was a crucial inspiration, and it was he who first urged me to write this book

Gregory was one of the most inspired and inspiring individuals I ever knew. Many powerful teachers had appreciated my work and recommended it to their students, but Gregory actually did it. He surrendered himself to it totally. Seventy-seven years old, his lungs shot, his feet so swollen he could barely walk, he never missed a beat, much less a session. My workshops are intensely physical, and yet this frail giant explored all the phases of the movements and immersed himself in the massage and ritual theater work. He was able to play with his prodigious intellect and vast knowledge and simply be in what he was doing. His mind was both full and empty

This time around Gregory Bateson, the noted anthropologist, was there. He had become Esalen’s community sage. He was dying of cancer, and he was doing it openly, bravely, gracefully. He participated in several of my ritual theater labs, and we even co-led a workshop we called “The Shaman and the Anthropologist,” his last appearance as a teacher