A choreographer and dancer describes how it feels as she moves from perfect stillness to a glorious explosion of movement
I start with my body in stillness: my eyes closed, my head bowed, my sternum soft, my pelvis weighted, my knees supple, my legs wide. The soles of my feet touch the dance floor. I widen my toes and my metatarsals, opening up the pathways between the Earth and my heart. I soften my joints – my ankles, my knees, my hips –making more space for freedom and possibility. I take in the deepest breath, expanding my lungs and rib cage to capacity, until I can feel the tiny intercostal muscles between my ribs begin to stretch.
As I exhale, I allow my body to move as it needs. A small sway moves through my spine. My arms follow behind like fabric in the wind, sequencing from my shoulders to my fingertips. My pelvis starts to rise and fall, swelling and crashing like ocean waves, forcing my legs to follow suit to manage the momentum. I feel my thighs begin to awaken to the glorious burn of activity. It feels good. As my body continues on its journey, I feel those first beads of sweat arise: along my hairline, in between my breasts, on the small of my back. An indication that I am warming and opening.
