Whoa. I just spent a whole month in the tiny Swedish village of Herräng, setting up and working during one of the biggest lindy hop festivals in the world. It’s been a week since I left, but I still struggle with making sense of this experience.

It is very strange and intimate to build a space.
We built tents and put in floors for dancing feet. We put up posters of our common dance history on the walls. We cleaned the kitchens so cafés could sell snacks for people coming from classes, chatting with new friends. A week of hard labor.

And suddenly there were the people, doing exactly that: dancing, hanging, chatting, growing, enjoying.

Herräng never sleeps. I would easily dance ’til 04 in the morning each day and seeing the sun rise became a habit. I snuck in naps between meals, classes and work hours. Not nearly enough, but it was ok. Intense and vibrant. Sometimes over the top, but what is a festival if you don’t work through some old issues? Emotions surface easily after too little sleep and too much input. For me it was the old fear of abandonment and loneliness, not feeling seen, feeling different and weirder than the rest. Feeling challenged to stay present. But I enjoy that, too. There is something beautiful in being opened up like this, and the connections I make when I have the courage to share these feelings are invaluable.

I flowed through the dance floors and the quiet spaces with jazz music in the background any hour of the day. I rested in nature and listened to the mosquito songs. I moved and as I did so, I felt so much gratitude to this mushy body, these cells filled with liquid that resonate and vibrate to the beat of the drums. That also resonate the beat of other hearts, as my chest leans into another.

It is ten years ago I went to my first ever lindy hop class and became someone who moved. There is no going back, and it is the best thing that has happened to me in this life.

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(This story told in pictures.)