I share this information because I’d like to see and participate in more ceremonial theater projects that are relatively improvisational and require minimal rehearsal time and low overhead. I’d also like to see the Tao of Sex spread to communities throughout the country and the world-created and performed by people in those communities.

For many of the performers, it was the first time they’d written or danced in a long time. Some had never danced in front of an audience. The pure passion and vulnerable authenticity is what made the show so exciting. So the Tao of Sex ceremonial theater piece was created simply by having an idea, writing a few poems and inviting the community through email groups to join in the fun.

I first put out the request for poets. I gave those who volunteered a month to write to their assigned sexual position. Each poet was giving the title of the position (such as Flying White Tiger, Galloping Steed or Silkworm Spinning a Cocoon) and the physical description of the position (so they could write from experience!) After gathering enough material I put out the request to the dance community, who could either choose their partners or I would pair them up. Each duet was given three poems to create dance pieces to.

Being Open to Change

Originally we were going to do the whole show behind a sheet so the audience would only see the dancers silhouettes. We only had three rehearsals and at the second we decided the shadow box effect wasn’t working. Most of the dancers panicked, not wanting to perform sexual positions on stage. It was telling of how afraid we are to be out in the world in our fully alive sexual expression.

The musicians came on board last- a flutist, a violinist, a sarod player, a didgeridoo player, a few drummers and a Latin guitarist. Each musician received a packet of the poems to see what instruments might go with what. Our third rehearsal was on the evening of the performance. The show was still in complete chaos.

Fifteen minutes before going on sixteen poets, twelve dancers and eight musicians held hands in circle to connect within that place of divine listening. I called in the Muse, called in the Weaver, called in the Sacred. We howled together, passed around a couple bottles of red wine and dark chocolate; somehow that night real magic happened.