Sometimes, though, what’s needed is a human mirror.
A moment of entrainment — where presence catalyses presence.

I’ve had the honour of witnessing this more than once.

One was in the late 90s. I met a woman at the St Ives Festival — quiet, shy, sitting in the corner of a pub. Somehow, we ended up dancing. And something in the way I danced with her — not sexual, not romantic, just present — invited her out of hiding.
That night became her coming-out party. Her moment of embodied freedom.
She still remembers it to this day.

Another was in a club in Falmouth. A young man approached me, saying:
“I want what you’ve got.”
I assumed he meant drugs. But no — he meant presence. Aliveness. Freedom.
I placed a hand on his chest and back, looked him in the eye, and said something like: “Bro, you need to dance like nobody’s f**king watching!"

A few minutes later, I saw him on the dancefloor — completely transformed. His light was on.
His joy was uncontainable.
It was his turn for a coming-out party.

But here’s the thing. Those moments only happen when someone is ready.
When the inner walls are thin, the yearning strong.
That’s when a simple encounter — a Zoom call, a dance, a moment — can change everything.