If You Said to Your Body, ?Tell Me Your Story,? It Would Speak Through Dance
Dance is a bodily symbol that has been used as a means of communication since the dawn of humanity. In fact, limiting dance solely to humans would be a mistake; especially after witnessing a male butterfly’s mating dance for a female with my own eyes, I was reminded that dance is a form of communication that belongs to the entire universe.
So what happened? How did dance become an act reserved only for dancers, something “special”? Why, when we once danced as tribes to celebrate, and sometimes even to mourn, is dance now perceived as something “difficult,” something we can’t do?
As we developed language and verbal communication, we began to fill meaning with defined sound structures. The role of words in communication lessened the need for movement in expression. Words, and therefore thought—the language of the mind—imposed the belief that our only truth is through words. To the point where we confine everything happening within verbal limitations, dictated by the mind.
The speed of the mind and words, coupled with the clear distinctions and definitions we’ve created in the world, has taken much from our humanity. As we continued to identify ourselves with our minds, we began to forget and grow estranged from the core form of our existence.
We can’t hold thought in our hands, and we can’t even be sure of its existence. But our body is right here, tangible, solid, resting between our hands.
The body never stops communicating. Even if we don’t invite it to move and express, the body will always find a way to express itself: through pain, through signals, through injuries. And we are forced to remember our bodies.
It constantly tries to pull you back into the world.
But the highly stylized movements we often force our bodies into aren’t the path the body prefers.
The body doesn’t want demands. It wants to remember…
It wants to remember what it is, where it comes from, its roots, its connections, its history.
It wants to remember the moment, the world, existence—and to be a bridge to it all.
That’s why, in the freedom you experience with a good space-holder in an improvisational dance, you tell the story of your true self. Remember, dance is an ancient record within your body—don’t forget—dance existed before you. “In the beginning, there was dance…”
If you gave your body the chance to truly speak with you,
And said, “Tell me your story,” not with words;
But through dance…
Who are you when words are no longer there?