Today, I pushed things.
I pushed a wall. I pushed the ground. I pushed a sneaker.
I pushed Dave.
I was pushed and I was pulled and I was dead weight pushing into the ground.
Contact Movement is a kind of improvisational dance that I do not understand all the ins and outs of, but which has intrigued me none the less.
We laid on the bare, wood floors and let go.
We let go of our weight and in doing so, we were heavy, pushing into the floor, but without holding on to anything.
Not holding my strength in, not holding my tongue up, not holding yet still giving.
Somehow, still pushing.
I cannot tell you how profound lying like a dead person on the floor was for me.
It wasn’t just the lying down though. It was in the give and take with my partner.
Of leaning in and giving all, then taking weight, receiving and listening with my body not my head.
I think everyone should dance with their lover. In any way or form.
It’s hard. It’s vulnerable. You realize you don’t listen as well as you like.
You realize you have an agenda. You realize you have your way, your own thoughts, your own goals.
It shows you instantly how those mindsets don’t work in a relationship unless you share and communicate and define together.
You can both have the same goal, but the journey there has to be more organic and fluid.
Getting there is not even really the point, it is in how you get there.
With contact movement, you don’t break the contact. You don’t take big jumps or leaps or change something suddenly.
You always tap and tune in, listen and feel your way.
It’s really beautiful! I learn more from movement art – dancing, tumbling, yoga, aerial silks, than I think I could from sitting in a chair in a therapy session.
I am not discounting that.
I am just saying that moving through space physically helps me move through space emotionally, but with more grace, direction and success.
At the end of the class, we danced with invisible partners.
It was pretty cool to try to express everything we learned about movement, but with no one actually there.
How I could take all my strength to push against someone, or to feel all the burden of weight to support someone, yet only have empty space as my partner.
I felt it because I knew what muscles would or should tense in my body.
I knew how slow and sticky my steps would be.
I knew how heavy I would feel.
So, I recreated those responses in my body despite the empty space around me.
For good or for ill, we create dance partners, so to speak, as we dance through life. And we believe that these invisible partners expect things of us.
But really, the expectations are our own. We have conditioned our bodies, minds, and hearts to respond to a reality that does not exist.
Maybe it existed once. One time, with one person. That does not mean it must exist always or again.
The weight is imagined, but we feel it because we believe it into existence.
We believe we are being judged, or forced to carry someone else’s burden.
We believe we are less or more, accepted or rejected.
Our body responds in kind.
If you cannot accept yourself, it does not matter if others accept you. If you can accept yourself, it does not matter if others reject you.
So you see, it’s the same.
Only that which you imagine about yourself is true.
Or, how often can we get through a difficult situation because we dance with hope?
We don’t know who really supports us, but we choose to believe that we can lean in and go for it. We trust an invisible kindness, presence.
Hope gives us strength, yet that strength was always in our bones.
And this is what it comes down to:
Be aware of yourself. Thoughts take form, real form.
They are an energy you unleash on yourself and others.
Make sure you are dancing the dance you want to and not the one you think you must.