A few nights ago, somewhere between midnight and the first pink trace of morning, I found myself on a wooden podium in a small forest in Poland, at Garbicz Festival (one of my all-time favourites for reasons too many to list), dancing with a group of strangers I’d never met before.

As a retired DJ, it takes something special to move me like that.

This did.

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For a few hours, we became a tribe.

We cheered each other on like old friends.

Shared water. Passed around soap bubbles.

Hugged sweaty strangers like they were close family.

Laughed like kids in a playground that didn’t close.

Every time someone new climbed up to join us, we welcomed them with open arms.

Not out of politeness, but with genuine joy.

Another one of us.

Another heartbeat in the collective rhythm.

But here’s what matters: I don’t just love this. I need it.

For my brain.

For my nervous system.

For the part of me that gets stretched thin by modern life and forgets what it feels like to be truly in it.

I go looking for these moments on purpose, because they’re the antidote.

To the everyday stress.

To the low-level hum of disconnection that so many of us carry like background noise.

To the subtle isolation that sneaks in even when we’re surrounded by people.

This wasn’t just a dance.

It was a reminder of something ancient and wired into our biology.

And it gave me exactly what I needed.

Let me explain why.

The Tribe Effect

There’s something that happens in your body when you dance with other people.

Not just next to them, with them.

Facing each other.

Mirroring each other.

Losing track of time together.

Neuroscience calls this interpersonal synchrony, and it’s more than “a nice feeling”.

It’s a full-body social technology.

When we move in rhythm with others, such as clapping, dancing, chanting, or even breathing, our bodies start to sync. And so do our internal systems.

We release:

-           Oxytocin, the bonding hormone, which makes us feel safe and close.

-           Endorphins, our body’s natural painkillers, creating joy and lightness.

-           Dopamine, the reward chemical that helps us remember moments as meaningful.

And cortisol, our stress hormone, gets dialled down, calming the whole system.

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It’s like a chemical group hug.

Our heart rates can align.

Our brain waves start to echo each other.

The boundary between me and you gets soft, and for a moment, we become us.

That’s what happened on that podium. I didn’t know their names at first.

But I knew their rhythm.

Why Dancing Matters More Than You Think

We often think of dancing as something frivolous.

A fun extra.

A thing you do if you have time.

But maybe we’ve been missing the point.

Dancing in groups has been shown to raise pain thresholds.

Yes, it’s true! That’s not metaphorical. That’s measurable.

It also reduces inflammation, boosts immune function, and enhances neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to grow and adapt.

Put simply: dancing with others isn’t just fun. It’s good for your biology.

It tells your nervous system:

“You’re not alone. You’re safe. You belong.”

It also taps into something we’ve evolved with: communal movement, collective joy, and shared rhythm.

These moments remind the body of its design. To connect, regulate, and co-exist.

In a world of hyper-individualism and endless screen time, this kind of embodied togetherness is a reset.

A return.

A rebellion, even.

As The Morning Comes

When the music faded and the sun rose, we scattered back into the festival landscape.

No dramatic goodbyes, but filled with love and appriciation.

A few sleepy smiles. A shared knowing.

A gentle, grateful feeling.

I have no idea what the others came carrying.

Maybe nothing.

Maybe everything.

But I know what that night offered me, and maybe all of us.

A few sacred hours of real, living, human connection.

And I know that most people don’t walk away from a dance floor thinking about their cortisol levels or oxytocin spikes.

But I study this stuff, and I work with it daily.

I know what it does to the body. To the brain.

And let me tell you: it’s not just a good time.

It’s medicine.

And that is always enough.

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Let’s Wrap This Up

We talk a lot about connection these days.

But you can’t think your way into belonging.

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You have to feel it.

In your body. In your bones.

On a dance floor. On a podium.

In the middle of a field with strangers who might never become anything more than a beautiful memory.

Or, who knows, maybe lifelong friends.

But for one night, we belonged to each other.

Our brains knew it.

Our bodies knew it.

And that matters more than most of us realise.

So if you ever get the chance to dance, to cheer, to be part of a moment that doesn’t need words, take it.

Because sometimes, connection shows up with a beat and a simple invitation.

“Come join us.”

Lots of love,

Stina

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