The divine within: the spiritual dimension of dancers' lives and work.

   The rich
   will make temples for Shiva.
   What shall I, a poor man,
   do?
          My legs are pillars,
   The body the shrine,
            The head
      a cupola of gold.
   Listen,
   Oh Lord of the meeting rivers,
      Things standing
   shall fall,
      But the moving
        shall ever stay.

This devotional verse by the medieval Hindu poet Basavanna, casts the dancing body as sacred vessel, an altar for the meeting of human and divine worlds. Writer Eva Yaa Asantewaa was intrigued with the unity of life, dance, and spirituality expressed in the poem, and sent it to eight dancers of various religions and cultural backgrounds to engage them in dialogue. They replied that they could identify with the poor man offering all he has--his dance--in tribute to a higher power. Movement is the one constant, truest thing in Lord Shiva's dynamic universe. The dancer "shall ever stay."

NAI-NI CHEN ARTISTIC DIRECTOR, NAI-NI CHEN DANCE COMPANY, NEW JERSEY/NEW YORK

The poem reminds me of a passage from the I-Ching: "Tao (the everlasting path of truth) is forever changing." Many of my movement ideas come from Chinese martial art and visual art. When a force is coming to you, sometimes the strongest way to respond is to follow the movement and energy flow rather than going against it. Nature teaches me how to choreograph. I observe the change from day to night, the alteration from sun to moon. How the water in small brooks flows down from mountaintops and gathers in a powerful, massive ocean without extra force. How wind blows away the dark clouds and the bright moon reappears in the sky. How bamboo thrives to burst out of the ground, regardless of all the obstacles, and determines to grow straight into the sky.

ARTHUR AVILES ARTISTIC DIRECTOR, ARTHUR AVILES TYPICAL THEATER, NEW YORK

Spirituality is the reality, pain, and glory of life channeled not from but through the body. I grew up in a poor, working-class environment. The way I work comes from a ghetto upbringing where you create from nothing; your dance moves forward from the next step taken. I embrace racial and sexual stereotypes to find joy inside these extremes, turning an insult around, flipping negatives into positives with the upward swing of an arm as fingers snap. It's a paradox, and there's contradiction and paradox in the makeup of my body, too-indigenous Indians, Spanish conquistadors, and black slaves from Africa.

AYODELE CASEL

TAP DANCER, NEW YORK

The music I make comes from within, from everything that I live, hear, and feel. Nothing comes only from me. It comes from God. Before I perform, I say a prayer asking God to help me get out of my own way. There are times when everything seems to make sense--the movement, the rhythm, the way you and the band seem to be on the same page, all improvised. I look up and smile knowingly.

CHRISTALYN WRIGHT

CHOREOGRAPHER/DANCER, NEW YORK

Born and raised Baptist, I became Catholic at age 16. I liked the scripture, homilies, rituals, and drama. Later Yoruba and Santeria came into my life, although I'm not a big participant in these religions. When I was on the road with Urban Bush Women, everyone brought their altars--photos of families, stones, whatever--to provide a level of comfort. My 1998 piece, A Sacred Journey, had an altar on stage to honor my ancestors with objects like a can of Ajax that represented my grandmother's cleanliness. I allowed myself to channel their energy and physically become who they were. My ancestors walk with me, always protecting me, even when they piss me off!

KAREN SHERMAN

DANCER/CHOREOGRAPHER, NEW YORK/MINNESOTA

I believe in art as a spiritual and political force. I was raised to be highly suspicious of any organized religion. My dad was a non-practicing but believing Jew and my mom was a "recovering Catholic," both civil rights activists. They had plenty of books about religion and let us question, read, explore practices on our own but kept us away from institutionalized systems. I'm grateful because it made me develop my own beliefs. I became pagan/Wiccan as a young adult and liked the do-it-yourself nature of it. Wicca and many other pagan practices are governed by the individual, and I believe that the collective energy of individuals is what makes up God or spiritual force or whatever word you may use. (I otherwise don't believe in "God.") We manifest something bigger through and because of ourselves and the same can be said of art-making-especially performance and most especially dance.

RENNIE HARRIS

ARTISTIC DIRECTOR, RENNIE HARRIS PUREMOVEMENT, PENNSYLVANIA

I studied to be a Rasta, read the Torah, read the Koran, but it became clear that it had nothing to do with religion; it had to do with spirituality. We're all here to learn something. Everyone plays his or her role. Mine is to be in the light, to be part of what helps people get what they need on this journey. Movement is one thing that takes care of you--body, mind, and soul. As long as you're moving you'll stay healthy: You're as young as your spine. Movement is the last manifestation of spiritual reality. Like the phone we're talking on, which was once only a thought in Alexander Graham Bell's mind, and now is a solid object.

BARBARA DILLEY

ARTS FACULTY, NAROPA UNIVERSITY, COLORADO

The body is the shrine--a potent teaching for the modern world, where there's a lot of disrespect and insecurity around the body's imperfections. Often young students are bound up by the need to be perfect, thinner, to study harder. Those expectations take us away from our spirit, away from respect for what it means to be born human. My practice of Buddhist meditation has informed my role as a teacher, and I've also gained a lot from silting in meditation before performing, rehearsing, or preparing for a class. I practice becoming more aware of and compassionate toward others. There's always a tension between material that I think is important and the body/mind of the student. I shift my focus away from me and my material to each of the students and what they need. At the end of a performance or rehearsal, we offer to the universe our creativity to be used for peace and the well being of others.

MOHAMED YOUSSEF

CORPS DANCER, TULSA BALLET, OKLAHOMA

My boarding school in Egypt had five to six hours of daily dance practice, then academic classes including Christian and Muslim instruction. One day, we all felt exhausted. Olga Eliachova, our ballet teacher, told us we must become more powerful than our bodies: "There's a spiritual energy within you that will give you strength and confidence." I was 14 and had no idea what she meant. She taught relaxation techniques and how to visualize what we want to do and be. Now as a professional, I use what I learned. Last year I performed during Ramadan, an Islamic month when Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset to cleanse the system and restore inner energy. Very challenging, but I felt great and my dancing was much better! When I had back surgery, I was told I might not walk again, let alone dance. But I prayed a lot, used that inner energy, and I came back.