I Love Numbers. And I Love to Dance.
I have always been drawn to numbers. In them, I see order, structure, and an infinite number of combinations that together create a meaningful whole. It was this fascination that led me into banking, where I could work with numbers every day; connecting them, shaping them, and building coherent stories from them. And there is a particular feeling I have always loved: being so deeply immersed in my work that time disappears, and I simply follow the flow of numbers as they reveal new patterns and new meaning.
But life did not lead me only along the path of logic.
About twenty-five years ago, during a period of personal difficulty, I began a journey of self-exploration. That was when I first encountered the practice of the 5Rhythms. Dance became a space where I could release tension, frustration, fear, and anger. It became a place of freedom. What drew me in most was the absence of rules, no right or wrong, just the body speaking its own language.
My first experience with a “real” teacher came in 2005 in Padua, at a workshop led by Ya’Acov Darling Khan. It was there that I truly felt, for the first time, how movement could help me understand myself and my body more deeply. From that moment on, workshops became an important part of my life.
And yet, the path was not easy.
At a time when I was building my career in banking and already holding a leadership position, balancing work, family, and my inner need to dance was a real challenge. I increasingly felt torn between two worlds: on one side, the structured and rational world of banking; on the other, the open, sensitive, and free world of dance.
At workshops, I often felt like an outsider. I was not used to the closeness, spontaneity, and openness that dance invites. I preferred to dance alone, in a quiet corner, with my eyes closed, safe in my own space. The greatest challenge was connecting with others: dancing in pairs, allowing vulnerability, showing myself.
For a long time, I also found it difficult to talk about this part of my life at work. I felt ashamed to admit that I danced, and that I danced with people who did not belong to the orderly, structured world of banking. It felt as if I were living in two separate realities. In dance, I felt like an outsider from another world, too rational, too reserved, held back by a kind of professional distance. At work, my dancing remained unspoken, almost inappropriate, something that simply did not fit into the formal, disciplined environment I was part of.
A turning point came in 2008 at the Returning Home workshop in Italy with Susannah & Ya'Acov Darling Khan. I vividly remember the strong feeling of not belonging, the belief that I did not fit in, that I was not accepted. And yet, as I was leaving and traveling home, a powerful realisation arose: I was the one who was not accepting myself. Even today, I can still see that moment clearly, the drive back from Italy, the sense of fullness within me, and the quiet knowing that, despite the demands of my work, I would be able to carry everything that lay ahead.
That realization was liberating.
Over the years of dancing, learning, and working with Ya’Acov and Susannah, I gradually discovered the practice of Movement Medicine. It offered me something I had never been able to reconcile before: structure and freedom. I came to understand that it is precisely a strong foundation and clear structure that make true freedom and surrender possible.
And then something essential shifted.
I realized that my love for numbers and my love for dance are not opposites. They are two expressions of the same essence. Order and freedom. Structure and movement. Mind and body.
Today, I know that I can stand firmly on the ground, supported by the earth beneath me, and at the same time dance freely, with the wind and with numbers. I allow myself to be who I am, fully. And I share my experience with others, inviting them into the dance of life.
I am deeply grateful for the path that has led me to Movement Medicine, and for all the steps, numbers, and movements that have shaped me.
Breda K. Perme
