Speakeasy’s Deep Soulful Sweats: Peaks of Phantasm , as part of the Next Wave Festival earlier this year. Photo: Sarah Walker
“I put everything through the self-serve checkout as brown onions!”
The post-it note confession fluttered to the floor to a raucous chant of “Baby, I can feel your halo.”
“I’m not ready to move in!”
“Baby, I can feel your halo.”
“I like sleeping alone.”
“Baby, I can feel your halo.”
It was not the first time I found myself chanting Beyoncé lyrics as I struck yoga poses and danced like a bird with around 50 other lycra-clad bodies in Northcote Town Hall.
This was Deep Spring Sweats Fantasy Yoga – two-and-a-half hours of “yogic disco” put on once every few months by Deep Soulful Sweats, a project supported by Darebin Arts’ Speakeasy program. Part yoga, part dance party, part ritualistic awakening of your inner tribal member, Sweats is an experience like no other in the northern suburbs, with no spectators and no judgement.
Speakeasy’s Deep Soulful Sweats: Peaks of Phantasm, part of the Next Wave Festival earlier this year. Photo: Sarah Walker
“This is like another world,” a friend gasped after the event, and for good reason. Arriving at Sweats is like stepping into a world in which your body is part of something bigger, a ritualistic exploration of music and movement.
We were split into our “elements” corresponding with our star signs – as a Libra I found myself in the Air group getting in touch with my spirit animal, the bird. My Sagittarius friend was a Fire dancer, and those born earlier in the year were placed in either the Earth or Water groups. Our groups were led in a short yoga session that morphed into free-flowing dance routines that moved around the room, often bringing us into contact with other groups. The evening culminated in the airing of the confessions, a rave-like dance party lit by our bike lights, a group hug and finally a Namaste.
The event, held last Friday night, had particular significance for dance and body lovers as it was the day after the birthday of Queen Bey. During the evening I found myself rolling on the ground to the swells of Drunken Love, slamming the floor with my bare hands as others shook their butts to Single Ladies, and flinging my limbs around chanting “Hey baby, what’s ya sign?” It was a nice touch, and I found myself calling on my inner Mrs Carter whenever my strength was failing, pushing through the exhaustion to “shake shake it like an alley cat”.
Full credit must be paid to the four leaders of the groups, who maintained such energy and focus throughout the whole thing that it was easy to completely lose yourself in the crazy.
Those moments when “What the hell am I doing?” popped into my head were few and were usually caused by eye contact with a friend as we did the pelvic thrust violently in time to Bootylicious chanting “AIR! AIR! AIR!”, resulting in a desperate giggling fit. But most of the time it was easy and even liberating to just follow our “elemental ambassador” across the room, focusing only on what to do with your limbs and what to scream.
And therein lies the real beauty of Sweats events: the true freedom that comes with just not thinking for a while and just moving – not for any reason but just because you can. While it’s not for everyone, if you can get yourself there and put away your ego for a few hours it’s truly worth the bruised knees and sore muscles the next day (bonus points for having Beyonce lyrics stuck in my head for the next 48 hours).
Speakeasy’s Deep Soulful Sweats: Peaks of Phantasm, part of the Next Wave Festival earlier this year. Photo: Sarah Walker
