
There’s a rhythm that lives inside you. Not something learned, not copied—it feels older, instinctive. Your body responds before your mind catches up. A pulse, a sway, a silent knowledge. Past life astrology suggests this may be more than talent. It could be memory—something once lived, now returning.
Perhaps you danced in lives long gone. Not for show, but for connection. Movement was meaning. A glance, a turn, a breath—it all carried emotion. You may have danced for love, for joy, for comfort. Venus might have shaped that grace, the way your body moves with natural ease. Mars could have given strength and passion to each step. The Moon may still hold the feeling—the warmth of firelight, the rhythm of drums, the hush of watching eyes.
Maybe you danced alone, lost in motion. Or for others, offering presence and beauty in silence. Even now, movement might feel like language. When words fall short, your body speaks. There’s something in certain songs, certain rhythms, that stirs something deep. A memory you can’t name, a longing you can’t place.
What moves you says much. If order and shape feel right, maybe you once knew the elegance of form. If wildness calls, maybe you once danced with earth, with storm, with instinct. If you move without thinking, maybe your spirit remembers the joy of letting go.
This rhythm within—it’s more than music. It’s a thread, tying you to who you’ve been. The ache after dancing, the fullness in your chest—that’s the echo. A lost story retold through muscle, through motion. Each beat is a return. Each step, a page from before.
You’re not just dancing. You’re remembering. Through movement, your soul tells a story it never forgot.
Leave a comment