Barefoot Bliss: My Journey into the World of Nia | Meg Elphee

I can’t remember when my first Nia class took place, but I remember how it felt. I was entering the unknown off the back of a few aerobics dance classes. I remember the dusty sensation of the worn wooden floorboards under my bare feet (an exercise class without trainers – imagine!). I remember it being dark, maybe it was autumn/winter in Scotland when the nights come in early. I remember the distinct smell of church hall, that slightly musty, aged aroma. Church halls come with their own distinct energy too; ladies teas & lunches, knit and natter, after school clubs and toddler birthday parties linger on those walls thick with emulsion. I remember looking around the hall (high windows, iron radiators) and seeing a few familiar faces from the local community. Did they recognise me? What would they think? Did I belong here? Thankfully I didn’t have time to focus on those thoughts for long. Karen, a warm and witty Glaswegian with an infectious giggle, encouraged us to come into a circle for our introduction to class.

We then sorted ourselves into appropriate lines and waited.

The music began and we stepped into a new moment. I remember the first bars of the first track, Sanjanna (Badmarsh & Shri). What is this? I’ve never heard music like this played in an aerobics class. It reminded me of the early morning music of the late 90s. The kind of sounds you’d listen to as the sun rose after spending the whole night laughing and talking with your best friends. It reminded me of a previous life, when I was young and (relatively) carefree. Before becoming a mum and worrying about coughs and colds and food bills and the council tax.  As Karen led those first few moves, my body instantly relaxed, sensing the rhythm and the next move almost intuitively from each beat; Karen’s form became the visual guide, moving us with a gentle confidence.

As the music became more energetic (the cycle called Keep Moving in Nia, I would learn years later), I forgot all my earlier concerns. I was lost in the moment, the joy that was building from moving my body in time to the music, in time with these women, and our Teacher, was overwhelming any earlier ideas I had about this hour.

Finally! I knew I had found my class. One that would hold me for the next decade and more, a silent support through illness and bereavement, patiently waiting for me to get back on the floor, to let it go and dance for an hour.

There is so much more to tell about my Nia journey, but this is just my beginning.