I am a Bioresonance therapist and Movement Medicine Teacher. I live in Czech Republic and my first language is Czech.
Movement Medicine is not just a dance. It is far beyond that. It is a lifestyle. Such a comprehensive one, that includes connection to all life. I have not encountered another modality that weaves everything together so seamlessly. All the aspects of life that I wanted to address and heal, were somehow fragmented across different practices. There was always something missing, until Movement Medicine found me. It brought the wholeness I was searching for. It offered a path that includes the body, heart, mind, and soul, our relationships, our ancestry, our purpose, and our place in the web of life. A place, where each movement is an invitation to be fully alive, and each still point is a letting go. We move, we pause, we explore, we shift, we surrender. It’s a living meditation on change. A way to meet life, death, and rebirth within the body, over and over again, in each moment.
Here are some exerts from my story, recently shared in my Graduation Project.
"It happened again. I went through a very dark time. One I hoped I would never revisit. A place I knew intimately from six years ago, when I lost my eye. Back then, the physical pain was unbearable, and I remember wishing to leave the body just to escape it. But this time, I was facing the potential loss of my eyesight with my son by my side.
One morning, as my son was climbing out of bed, he turned his back on me and accidentally kicked me in the eye. The pain was horrible. Later that day on I noticed grey areas in my vision that had not been there before. I became worried and booked an appointment for an eye check up at the hospital. But the doctors found nothing unusual and sent me home.
Three weeks later I was walking through the forest just outside the city with a friend and our kids, when everything changed. Suddenly, my vision darkened and the world turned grey. Like the sky before a heavy storm. Within an hour, I could only see a glimpse of light, nothing more. I was almost left in the dark.
I was rushed into hospital where they diagnosed a torn retina and the urgency of an immediate surgery to save my eyesight. I was in an absolute state of panic, an end of life experience. My mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening. All I had left was my body and my breath.
In the hours leading up to the surgery, I had several pre-operative check ups. I couldn’t see the faces of the people examining me, I could only hear their voices and respond. One doctor kept asking me about my life and passions to get me out of my panic state and the conversation naturally turned to the subject of Movement Medicine.
I found myself explaining the importance of embodiment and what it truly meant for me. Being present in the body, not just moving but feeling it from the inside out. Not performing for others, but deeply connecting with myself. Tuning into sensations, emotions, energy and breath. Through this inner awareness, we can feel where the body holds tension. We can sense what needs to release, what wants to be expressed.
With conscious breath, we regulate the nervous system and feel grounded and centred. And from that place, we can meet whatever life brings, with embodied awareness and movement. Listening to your heart and allowing your body to unfold as it needs to, to release emotions and make space for new things to enter your life.
I shared with him that the benefits of dancing and conscious movements are not only for healthy people. They are for anyone, for everyone, especially those in recovery, whether physical or mental. It can have powerful influence as a therapy. Basically dance is a therapy.
The doctor became interested and told me to return one day to share more about this. I was not sure if he was genuinely interested or just being kind. But in that moment, his words gave me strength and hope. A sense that my story and my path mattered.
Imagine lying on a surgical bed in a silent, sterile white room. You can’t see much, only a glimpse of light through one of your eyes. Then, a large needle comes into view, approaching slowly your eye, coming closer and closer. The person holding it in his hands says that you shouldn’t move because any motion could have fatal consequences. Try staying still after hearing these words! And then, suddenly, all you feel is the incredible pain of that sharp needle piercing deep beneath your eye. Moments later, everything goes totally black.
That was me. Finding myself in the darkness. Complete darkness. Locked in a room with two strangers performing eye surgery on my only functioning eye. My heart was pounding like a fast techno track at 200bpm. My stomach felt upside down. My mind was spiralling. Will this work? Will I ever see again? What happens if not? I wouldn’t want to live like that, I’d rather die.
Those were the thoughts racing through my head, and I was exhausted by the sheer intensity the chaos I had created. Yes, I created it. That was the moment of realisation. I had an hour to go. And if I kept my nervous system in such state, I wouldn’t make it through. I had to calm myself down.
I started using my own breath, with long inhales and long exhales. Inhale. Exhale. Again and again. I was the creator of my internal state. There were things I could not control and I had to surrender and trust the process. Trust that angels sometimes wear white coats and that I am in god’s hands.
And there were things that I could control. It was that micro moment when I realized I needed to unify the field of my body, heart and mind. To bring them into collaboration to create the inner peace necessary to survive this.
With each inhale, I envisioned my breath reaching deep into the ground, to the very core of Mother Earth. I asked her for support to hold me still and to be generous with her nourishment. And from that cradle of creation, I began to rise up through the roots to the surface. The surface of my body. The surface of the surgical table I was lying on.
I invited the oxygen to move through every little particle in my body, starting at the soles of my feet and toes, moving up through my legs, my hips into the internal organs. I observed the diaphragm rising and falling. I felt the breath rise my throat, and finally to my head and my eyes.
With each exhale, I connected with the energy from the above, forming a bridge between the Earth and the Sky. I long forgot the surgery. I forgot the room. I was simply enjoying this Movement Medicine practice of becoming a Tree of Life. Circulating the breath and energy fluidly in my body, connected to the both nourishing sources.
There was a laser machine in the surgery room, assisting with the operation, gluing the retina back together. As I was going through my own process of being there amidst the surgery, I could hear a melody coming from the laser machine. It made different sounds and to me, it felt like an orchestra playing an incredible peace of music. An unexpected symphony.
I could not move at all, of course. But in my mind, I visualised myself dancing. I was awakening the dancer in my imaginal world. Soles of the feet, toes, ankles, calves, knees, thighs, hips, bum cheeks, spine and each vertebra, one by one. Internal organs, ribs, heart, shoulders, arms, elbows, hands, fingers and nails. Along with my neck, head, ears, eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth and tongue, teeth and chin. I spent a lot of time giving attention to each body system.
The body parts I had visited with my breath now co-created a beautiful choreography. Feeling my body, my heart and my soul perform the dance of their lives.
I was fully alive, dressed in bright colours, my hair flowing and a huge smile on my face. Dancing my joy of being alive, my fear of dying and losing the vision, dancing like this was my last dance.
A dance only I could see.
Engaged in that deep inner embodiment, I didn’t even realize the surgery was nearly complete. By then, I was feeling sensation of an absolute peace within my body that was covered by beautiful white light. My heart was beating slowly and I smiled. I hadn’t felt so peaceful in a long time. I even shed a few tears of relief, happiness and gratitude.
And I knew. I wouldn’t have made it through without Movement Medicine.
This was my journey.
And I was here to walk it and to dance it, all the way till the end."
Maya B. Love recovered from this surgery and offers healing Movement Medicine spaces for others.
