A couple of months ago, I spontaneously cast off an essay in response to an Impromptu Challenge set forth by Princeton University Concerts, Suleika Jaouad, and The Isolation Journals (Suleika’s beloved Substack community). Although, admittedly, my competitive spirit is usually lit ablaze whenever I accept challenges (this aspect definitely runs in my bloodline) - I felt no such competitive spark with this one. I saw the writing prompts as a through line for healing. A place to channel words in a beautifully curated creative container - then shared and hopefully read amongst at least one set of resonate eyes.
There were several prompts to choose from, but naturally, I gravitated towards the one on dancing. Dancing has always held a special place in my heart and continues to be a healing medium for me. Music moves me in ways seen and unseen, and although I’ve never taken up learning how to play an instrument, I realized recently that I’ve taken up learning how to play the instrument of my body instead. A lifelong practice that I approach with continual curiosity, oftentimes intuitively but sometimes guided.
In the moment, I remember how healing it felt to connect two of my passions (writing and dance) into one intentional prompt, then share it with a music-driven community outside of the confines of my personal journal.
To my joy and surprise (as I had quite honestly forgotten I had written the piece at this point) - I was informed last week that I received an Honorable Mention in the contest. A most wonderful and appreciated surprise indeed!
I felt inspired to share the essay here in The Sacred Pause Substack as well. I hope it resonates with you. And if you’re inspired, I challenge you to answer the prompt for yourself too.
On: “When was the last time you danced? Where were you? What were you listening to? What thoughts or feelings emerged? What stayed with you?
I have the great fortune of letting dance move through me often.
It comes about suddenly, all at once on the kitchen floor while the soup pot simmers.
On a walk when the wind blows through the trees.
After I’ve been given cause to celebrate something or someone.
And even when I’m wallowing away.
I can’t help but dance as my bridge and outlet through daily transitions. From item to item on my to-do list and from elation to anger to sadness to peace. The whole spectrum and range of emotions are invited to move through me. Through dance.
The last time I danced, it was a kitchen scene.
Classical piano moves me more than most other music (and I like to dedicate this attribute about myself to the doctor who helped deliver me in the hospital promptly exclaiming upon birth: “She’s destined to be a pianist with these long fingers!”).
Certain classical piano songs speak to me more than others…and Liebestraum No. 3 (in A-flat Major) by Franz Liszt is one such song. Lang Lang plays an absolutely beautiful rendition that is almost instantly transportive for me. In fact, it’s a frequently played track on my “keys to my heart” (pun intended) Spotify playlist, an ever-growing collection of piano tracks that make me swoon time and again.
A mundane weeknight dinner featuring a can of Tom Kha soup and rice simmering gently on the stove suddenly transforms into a swirling ocean of movement – my body yearning to express the emotion this song stirs in my heart so much that it must be professed on the kitchen floor of my apartment in that very moment, wooden cooking spoon still in hand. My dog watches reverently from her bed – knowing not to interfere with this prayer in motion.
Something about Liebestraum strikes a chord in my heart that moves through my spine and flutters out through my fingertips. If love was taking flight this is the song that would play. A soft but passionate cascade of keys mounting in exaltation as my feet lift from the ground. The excitement, the beauty, the tenderness, the softness. The notes move through me lovingly, leaving me reminiscent of a time when love blossomed in me in just this kind of way – giving me wings – and simultaneously leaving me hopeful that this kind of love will find me in this lifetime yet again.
A glassy-eyed feeling stayed with me. As the song concluded, my body stopped waving around and found a moment of stillness – returning to the soup pot – returning to the mundane – but this time with a fire kindled in my heart. But this time with a prayer of love resonating in the airwaves.[1]
This song reminds me to be kinder to my body. To move with more intention – which often means slowing down considerably – instead of simply throwing myself from one activity to the next.
Dancing reminds me that every movement we make can be an act of beauty. Of grace. Even if expressed through seemingly violent or aggressive motions. There is beauty there because there is presence. Presence with exactly what is in that very moment.
Instead of running away from it – I run into it. Dancing is an act of bravery. And a reminder that I can live in this way at all times. And for any time I need a reminder – I can simply start dancing and my body will whisper it in my heart’s ear yet again:
“This is who you are at your core.”
You brave, soft, beautiful, radiant human you.
Dance does this for me.
Music does this for me.
And when spontaneously combined together on the kitchen floor whilst cooking, one can only imagine how much more delicious a dinner of canned soup can taste afterward.
[1] It was only after I finished writing this piece that I realized the translation of Liebestraum from German to English is “love dream”.
xx
Heather