I am always in awe of how ready to move my body feels after just a few minutes of Gaga, compared to how
stiff I feel at the beginning of ballet. Is it the power of words? My imagination? It’s crazy how just by
hearing, “Let your joints feel lubricated,” every joint in my body somehow feels so slick and ready for
movement.
Today, the teacher introduces a new idea that I haven’t heard before. “Feel like you are a painting, and
explore this freedom and range you have in just two dimensions. Send your energy to the front.” I feel a bit
restricted in my legs. Does it count as two-dimensional if I reach an arm or leg across myself? I find ways
to bend horizontally that I don’t normally do. It’s fun to explore this new plane, but I’m quickly running
out of ideas. I feel quite wide. “Now dive into the depth of this painting. Lose your front and explore all
dimensions.” It's like my movements were being kept behind a dam, and suddenly it breaks. My body is free to
move in all directions to find curves and circles. I move without even thinking about what I’m doing and
enjoy losing myself in the uninhibited movement.
Now, we move while feeling both how our skin touches the air and how the air touches us. This sensitivity
brings delicate and fragile sensations to my body. Everywhere is listening at once, but my upper body is
more successful than my lower body. I feel the air on places I don’t normally: between my fingers, on the
backs of my legs. Still focusing on the sensation of touch, we start to negate gravity and float everywhere,
“like your limbs are floating in a pool,” the teacher tells us. The air is warm from the summer heat, and I
could really do with a dip into the pool. Still not quite satisfied with our floating he tries another
approach.
This brings me joy, and I smile a little. I love clouds, and it’s fun to be one too. I feel more inflated
everywhere. As we float, the teacher tells us increase our speed but keep the same effortlessness. “Indulge
in the letting go as your movements get faster.” To indulge—what a nice sensation.
“Keep the feeling of plenty of time and let go more. There’s nowhere to get to, no need to rush.” In this
moment of quarantine and stasis, I could not relate more. Nowhere to go. I feel stagnant at home, with no
real end in sight. Days blend together, and maybe my dancing is also. I speed up my movements, clearing my
mind and emptying the space between my head. It’s easy to find movement right now, to go fast without
tension. To indulge in the letting go and lose myself in movement. I feel like air, free.
We bring a yawn to the back of our mouths and let it spread to the rest of my body. A real yawn stretches
across my face. I feel the stretching translate everywhere. “Pull your bones apart. Twist your arms but keep
the softness of your spine.” I still need reminding, but it’s easier now to keep the softness than it was
before. Being in a deep position with my legs is also easier than before. We practice moving from far away
engines, beginning by rolling our shoulders backwards. As we roll our shoulders, the teacher tells us to
find other places to move our shoulders from—our backs, below our armpits, the front of our chest. We touch
the sides of our ribs and grab the flesh there. These curves expand and grow out of us, past us. They pass
through me this way, rather than me creating them.
“Melt your flesh and let your bones swim through. But grab your bones with your flesh so they don’t get too
far away.”
This teacher's class makes me feel alive and pushes me to reach my limits. It's refreshing and feels new and
alive.