There’s a moment I know by heart.

A drum hits—maybe it’s in a plaza, maybe it’s in a backyard, maybe it’s coming from a speaker that’s too loud and imperfect—and before my mind can decide anything, my body has already answered.

My shoulders soften.
My hips remember.
My feet find the earth like they’ve been waiting for this signal all day.

That’s how dance lives in me: not as performance, but as inheritance. 

I’m from Cartagena, Colombia, a coastal city where rhythm doesn’t feel like entertainment—it feels like a language. In Cartagena, music is woven into daily life. It’s in the way we gather, the way we celebrate, the way we survive and keep our joy intact. The body doesn’t just move… the body speaks.

And when I dance, I feel something older than me wake up.

I carry South American Indigenous ancestry in my bloodline and in my spirit—roots that are difficult to summarize in a sentence, because ancestry isn’t a label. It’s a living current. It’s memory moving through time. It’s the way your body knows what your mind can’t explain.

Tribal dance—especially the kind that is born from earth, drum, and community—has always been more than choreography. In many Indigenous cultures across South America, dance has been a way to pray, to honor the elements, to mark life’s transitions, to heal grief, to celebrate harvest, to strengthen bonds. It’s movement as medicine. It’s rhythm as resilience. It’s the body remembering that it belongs to the land and the sky.

And in my culture, dance is alive.

Not just on stages—everywhere.

We dance in joy.
We dance in heartbreak.
We dance to celebrate love.
We dance to keep going.
We dance because life is heavy sometimes, and rhythm is one of the ways we lift it.

Dance is precious to me because it has never asked me to be perfect. It has only asked me to be present.

It’s one of the few places where I can feel fully human—messy, radiant, emotional, powerful—and still safe. Dance meets me exactly where I am. It doesn’t require an explanation. It doesn’t demand that I “have it all together.”

It simply says: Move. You’re alive.

What this means for you (even if you “don’t dance”)

You don’t need to be trained. You don’t need a perfect body. You don’t need confidence.

You only need permission.

Because tribal dance—this earth-rooted, drum-led movement—offers something that many of us are starving for:

Nervous system release: movement that shakes off stress and returns you to your breath

Embodiment: coming back into your body instead of living only in your thoughts

Joy without earning it: celebrating life even before everything is “fixed”

Belonging: remembering you’re not alone—your ancestors, your lineage, your inner child… they’re with you

Gratitude in motion: a simple way to say “thank you” to the life you’re living

Sometimes healing isn’t a conversation. Sometimes healing is a rhythm.

Sometimes prayer is not words. It’s movement.

A small story I’ll never forget

When I was younger, I remember dancing at a gathering—nothing fancy, no spotlight—just people, music, laughter, sweat, and that feeling that time disappears. At one point I looked around and realized: no one was trying to be impressive. Everyone was trying to be free.

That stayed with me.

Because freedom is contagious.

And it’s one of the greatest gifts my culture has given me: the understanding that joy is not childish—it’s sacred. Joy is not extra—it’s essential. Joy is one of the ways we endure. One of the ways we remember who we are.

That’s why dance, for me, is not a hobby.

It’s a lineage.

It’s a spiritual practice.

It’s an offering.

If you want to receive this gift, here’s your invitation

Today—right now—put on one song.

Not to “work out.”
Not to “look good.”
Not to get it right.

Just to return to yourself.

Stand up. Soften your knees.
Feel the ground beneath you.
Lift your arms to the sky—slowly.
Let your hips move like water.
Let your chest open like fire.
Let your feet speak to the earth.

And if emotion comes, let it come.
If joy comes, let it come.
If nothing comes, that’s okay too.

You showed up.

That is enough.

Call to action - Let's dance!

If you feel called, I invite you to step into this rhythm with me:

Listen to “Awakening Dance” here: AWAKENING DANCE
Read the lyrics - LYRICS
And if you want to make it real in your body—
press play and give me one minute of movement.
Soft. Gentle. Joyful. True.

Because we are alive.

And that is worth celebrating.

Stay inspired.

Help Bring This Sound Journey to Life

Awakening Dance is part of a bigger vision: an album of 18 songs designed as a spiritual sound journey—music to help you breathe, release, move, and remember your light. If you’d like to support the recording and production of this album, you can donate here:
paypal.me/VivianaPuello
Your support helps fund studio time, production, mixing, and mastering. 

Thank you for being part of this journey.
Stay inspired.