The body is not a robot (PS, I love robots). Most days, people treat their bodies like robots, like a machine that needs fixing, like a series of parts that can be replaced, improved or ‘spot’ trained. The ways we talk about our bodies matters and changing language can have a profound effect on our experience of our bodies.
We all have days that it feels like our body is a hindrance and depending on our particular age, health and ability/mobility, we each have a unique range of movement that we’re working with. This is not an ‘anyone can do it if they really try’ type of sentiment that I’m talking about here.
Across all of these differences, we can embody our physicality in ways that are appreciative of the body as a process, as a complex ecosystem that remains forever in flux. The only constant is change, a zen concept that has a lot to offer us in our movement practice. Life will add and subtract things from our bodies, gravity will always be more reliable than willpower and time will not move backwards. Within these concepts are further subtleties as bodies oscillate along the continuum of sickness and wellness, stamina and fatigue.
Part of a healthy movement practice as I see it, is allowing for the fluctuation of practice while still maintaining a discipline. Pay attention to the messages you tell yourself both when you ‘do well,’ ‘see results’ as well as when you fall behind on your practice or fall short of accomplishing something you had your heart set on. This is all food for thought, these reflections on the stories we tell ourselves and how its connected to our movement.
I love watching dancers whose movement flows so seemingly effortlessly from their bodies, with a flow that gives the perception they are being moved by something the audience can’t see. I know they worked their asses off for it but the ease of their movement weaves a compelling imaginary tale.
We’re not all going to be able to do the things we admire in others. I will not be able to perform the physical feats of a professional dancer but I am serious about practices that maintain an ease of movement in walking and dancing and sitting life. All of it, bring ease to all of it. Even the uncomfortable and painful things, cultivating grace will allow the body to move in ways that brute force just wont be able to.
Yes pushing ourselves physically and mentally is healthy and necessary, that’s how we grow. Trust the process, as they say. And, we are not robots, not machines, not broken to be fixed. We are fleshy, bony, organ-y, casings of shifting rhythms that house emotions and nervous systems and histories –be kind to yours no matter what.
So far this summer has been filled with delicious movement!
The most important question I (re) asked myself this year as a dancer is: Why? Why do I dance? Why do I perform? The answer is ever-evolving, but after some new insights and realization, my why –for now –is clear. There is a certain vitality that only dance brings, after which the fatigue is just like no other tiredness. Aside from the community and catharsis of a social dance floor, there is something incredibly satisfying, so emotionally and mentally balancing about practicing, drilling, teaching and yes even at times, performing dance. I dance to embody some of the beauty I see in this world, to taste the pleasure and pain of physical discipline and a freedom of movement. To chase fleeting moments and stretch out time, to sit in the pocket of a memory or imagine a future yet unknown. Maybe tomorrow there will be more or less reasons…
Sandy Watters 