Moving Authentically
Last weekend, I ventured into an artist's studio for a movement and sound improvisation workshop. I attended partly because my dance friend Callie was co-facilitating, but also because the word "improvisation" has always elicited a loose knot in my chest, a sensation I was curious about.
The story running in my mind was that I lacked improvisational skills and was just not good at it. Part of this narrative stemmed from previous dance improvisation workshops where I felt pushed beyond my comfort zone, and received feedback that squashed my creativity and wore out my self-confidence — the opposite of what improvisation is about, in my opinion.
As I sat cross-legged in a circle among other curious souls, Callie's co-facilitator Daren, a multi-talented artist, opened the session with his definition of improvisation: "it is the surrender of control". His words struck me like an arrow: this was the edge for me.
Daren's first invitation was to create a sound using any part of our body, not just our voice. We were encouraged to practice authentic movement, allowing our bodies to express instinctively, without thinking. I was nervous at just the prospect of this first exercise, feeling my inner composure crumble.
During the initial round, my hands went instinctively to cover my ears, my eyes squeezed shut and I held my breath — a perfect illustration of a freeze moment. In the second round, my hands dug into the paper-covered floor, scratching it like nails on a chalkboard, illustrating my internal resistance. Finally, on the third round, my hands abruptly slammed on the floor, my upper body bent forward, and my legs extended before drawing them back in. The awakening had begun.
As the workshop progressed, I found myself going from sitting and standing in the same spot, to walking, jumping, sliding, crawling, and even rolling across the floor. I dove into a "snowfall" created by torn paper and improvised a voice duet with another participant, sounding like two birds in harmonious dialogue.
We had only our bodies, voices, the floor, three walls, and a few found materials. We were kids having fun in adult bodies, rekindling our childlike sense of play and creating an atmosphere of joy and liberation. I embraced my inner child and discovered new avenues for authentic self-expression. Right there in that workshop, the group and my body helped rewire my brain and let go of old stories, like a snake shedding its old skin.
As I look ahead, I feel a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. I'm getting closer to being ready for my next big challenge: ecstatic dance! But more than that, I'm eager to bring this spirit of improvisation and openness into all aspects of my life, and I am thrilled that the possibilities seem endless.