I have started to get back to a regular practice of dancing.
It is amazing to see the memory that our muscles, our brain, our bodies have. Session after session, I can feel my 10 years of ballet kick back in, close to 20 years after I hanged my pointe shoes.
While I dance, I can feel the technic resurface. Each session my repertoire of movements feels broader, my technic more precise, my ability to express myself freer and more effortless.
My session goes as such: I improvise to a playlist of songs I like and that I have selected for their emotions and beat rate. They range from the rock of Florence and the Machine, the electronic of Flume & Chet Faker to the tripop of Morcheeba and Portishead.
I use the same music every time, in order not to have choices to make, so I can keep my focus on the moment. Even if the soundtrack is the same, the story my body tells is always different, always unique.
In the middle of my 90 minutes paranthese of freedom today, I realized that my movements were influenced by way more than the academic dancing I have been taught years ago. I observed myself bringing in movements from my yoga practice and others borrowed from the choregraphies of dancers I had seen in videos last week.
Earlier, while I was explaining how free dancing makes me feel, I realized something else.
Dancing could be to the body what writing is to the mind.
It is a free form of expression, influenced by our experiences, improving with practice and where no one, not even the author, can anticipate the final result. In dancing like just like in writing, in order to be able to create, we need to loose control and let ourselves be led by an invisible director, the incredible creation that is our brain.
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