A Ritual journey of embodied storytelling

with live drumming in the forest

MythDance is weaving of movement, meditation, and world mythology. Through practices of embodiment and imagination, we bring these stories to Life, together.

Myths are stories which have been told throughout the ages; they speak both to our personal stories and to the stories present in the collective. We look into the Soul of the Self, into the Soul of the Collective, and dance these stories into being in a new way. We weave them in the present moment. We evolve together.

May we listen more deeply to ourselves, to each other, and to the Truth held within the myth...

MythDance is currently in its third incarnation, now being held in Bern, Switzerland.

To read poems from recent MythDance journeys, please scroll down.

Upcoming Events:

Notes: MythDance is moving to the forest with live drumming, weather permitting! Updated schedules and locations will be here.

  • MythDance

    Day and Time: Sunday, 29 September 2019, 18-20h Please register below

    Location: Glasbrunnen, Bern Switzerland

    Love Donation: CHF 30.-

    A loving welcome to guest musicians Joël Farine and Pascal Cossalter!

  • MythDance

    Day and Time: Sunday, 25 August 2019, 18-20h Please register below

    Location: Glasbrunnen, Bern Switzerland

    Love Donation: CHF 30.-

    I am happy to welcome back Beat Rihm and Didier Reinhardt as the drummers for August’s MythDance!

    Beat is an heartfelt percussionist who has studied with René Barth and Tom Ehrlich of SpiritDance Drumming. He has been playing drums with Didier for many years.

Myths Danced 2019

Poems from our journeys, as a gift for you…

The Frog Prince

25 August, 2019


Between Fire and Fountain

We meet ourselves,

Opening the door to the Wild…

Opening to that deep, deep well

Of a child remembering a story

Which fell into the fountain long ago

In the story, I am screaming

At your feet -

You look down -

Our eyes meet -

What a great distance has entered Us,

Though in an instant

Tongues sprung from the deep Earth

Sing back our laughter, rinse our eyes.

Wonder, Fear, Loss, and Communion

Once dyed the waters of our Soul,

Pouring out from widened eyes

And from Dreamings voiced, yet left untold

Water clear as glass…

Insecurity, Mercy, and Peace

Woven into Fire’s fingers

Lingers on our reddened Breath

And cracking Voices of the Singers

Fire clears the past…

A path is drawn

Upon this ground,

Welcoming you,

As you are.

It is so simple.

It is Joy - do you remember?

Do you remember the way you let go

Of the thing you held most dear

And how that Sphere

Of gold


From your very hands,

To Shine upon All Beings?

What you came here to be,

Is already here.

The rich and simple cloth

We have spun from evening Sun rays

Laid out, soft

Upon a naked Earth

Welcomes us to Dance and Pray

And to weave a new story

Of an Open-Hearted Way.

Spider Woman

28 July, 2019


From the Void,

She spins rainbow strands

And Weaves Herself into Being

Smiling, Spinning, Singing,

She Weaves.

She Weaves the Creation Song

Beneath the deep purple ocean of Sky,

We become shaped

By Her many long black legs

Dancing, Dreaming, Drawing

Out the threads

From Her silk-coated Belly

Yellow-washed Sky

And she Sings, she Sings -

She Sings of our Stories

And of our Power

And of our Joy

She Weaves us all together,

Even as we let go

Oh, that Web


Among Stars and Roots and Lovers,

Shines brilliantly!

Blinding Her…

Yet Her eyes are many.

Embers of Yearning

Kindle Night;

New Pathways

Blaze across a reddening Sky

And She Calls, she Calls, she Calls,

“Sing with me!”



and Un-Earthed,

We come to root the Creation Song.

Echo and Narcissus

26 May, 2019 (Half Moon MythDance)


Daggers on our skin made us


We silenced ourselves

With the buried ones.

We put walls over

The wells

And covered our hands.

We turned away

From the Voices in the deep, dark soil.

And now, a faint laughter

Beckons us to awaken;

An avalanche of sleep

Gently falls away from us,

Along with old fruits of our mother’s mothers

And sharp, worn-out snakeskins.

It is more than a faint Echo, now.

The primal Roar

Is deafening,

Calling us to receive

Our own Prayers.

See the reflection,

For in our eye,

There is Lightning.

We Dare to Touch,

And New Life Opens.

The Phoenix

21 April, 2019 (Easter MythDance)


As the Fire of Sun


Night-time’s shadowed castings,

The Phoenix stretches its sword-beak, opens its throat and sings

All of Paradise listens

Can you hear the song,

Slow and Wild and Free,

Like the essence of you?

As the Fire of Sun


Down the back of Sky,

Westward to the root of horizon the Phoenix flies

Its bones hollowed out by Time

What altar will you build

For that which beckons surrender?

As the Fire of Sun


The Phoenix’s final nest,

Consumed by red-gold lashing, Its last song rests

Like diamonds on silent treetops

Tell me, Dear One,



Stirs within the ashes

Of your descent?

As the Fire of three Suns


For what has been lost,

The Phoenix rises once again, now thawing the frost

Of Absence

Dear One,

The Fire of Will


From our longing;

I give you my wings

As we wake to the Sun of our Dawning

The Sphinx

7 April, 2019


Long ago, Her mouth dissolved in the swift desert sands

And she was buried.

Yet before this,

She sat on her Lion haunches,

Letting almost no one pass.

Her riddles were formed

In the shapeless growls

Of the Primal Feminine.

The Oracle saw it long before it happened,

The way She would be buried,

The way Her Mystery would be devoured

By Answers,

The way She would forget

Who She was.

With eyes that pierced through

The veils of Time,

She saw this.

With eyes that became wet

She saw this,

And offered an oasis for the desert of Man.

For the Oracle knew that the

Primal Hunger

Would not be buried in Man nor in Woman;

She knew that

It would be remembered.

And so it was -

The buried Sphinx

Held the riddle-with-no-Answer

In her belly still.

At last, the Earth wept,

A rushing release

Of all that came before.

And the Woman-Lion-Eagle-Snake

Returned to ask Her Riddle:

“We are two. One gives birth to the Other, and this One in turn gives birth to the

first. Who are we?”

Vasalisa the Wise and Baba Yaga

3 March, 2019


At every crossroads,

May you hear the small, still Voice

As the White Rider of Dawn

Smooths the wild hair of Night,

And the tumbling clouds

Disrobe above the rising Light,

Here, may you hear the small, still Voice

As you enter into service

Of the Ancient and Ravenous Woman,

Here, may you hear the small, still Voice

As the Red Rider of Noon

Births ecstatic Rising,

And Dancing Red Flowers

Emerge from Seed-Womb hiding,

Here, may you hear the small, still Voice

As you look up, overcome by darkened Shade

Of towering Mountains

Here, may you hear the small, still Voice

As the Black Rider of Night

Comes and smooths the soft hair of Light,

And the bright eyes of the Old One

See through your pain with piercing sight

Here, may you hear the small still Voice

May your work, which is never done,

Be released to the Dreams alive in your veins;

May the Mountains which tower over,

Become the Earthen breasts of She-with-No-Name;

May the Ancient and Ravenous Woman,

Give you the Fire for which you came;

And here, may the small, still Voice

Sing You Awake

The Lindworm

10 February, 2019

Artist: Steven Stahlberg

Artist: Steven Stahlberg

She gives voice to Her Longing,

and the Earth listens through the Night

As the glow of a rising Sun

Approaches the fierce break of Dawn Light,

Human Desire and Spiritual Longing

Grow from the soil as two flowers,

One Red and one White

Layers and layers...

The rose drops its garments

To damp earth

As the glow of a rising Longing

Embroiders Her Heart with pulsing Light,

She gives voice to Her Desire,

And the Earth listens through the Night

Layers and layers...

The vast Serpent

Peels Its blackened skins

Through the pain of the peeling,

They remember the Milk of story and song,

And bathed in this Sweetness,

Earth remembers Its deepest



Persephone’s Descent/

Myth of the Triple Goddess

6 January, 2019 (New Moon and Solar Eclipse MythDance)


It is our fear of loss that brings us to the Underworld.

Innocence overcome by Darkness

Severs itself from the mother's longing,

Yet all is not lost.

Hecate's vast womb of stars

Sets two torches ablaze

To reclaim sweetness.

Yes, remember your sweetness,

Dear One,

And may you be uplifted

By the strength of delicate flowers

Who part the earth's black breast

To retrieve you.

Even as the mother returns to Earth's womb

As a star-seed,

She will rise again,

Lifting you into the Sun…

Even as the Dark One hardens

And takes of Life,

The halo of his eclipse will descend to

Light his crown…

For at the Heart of Darkness, there is Light,

And all is enfolded in the

All-seeing womb

Of the Triple Goddess