Reclaiming Your Inner Dancer

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Remember When You Danced Just Because?

Think about children — how much freedom they express with their bodies.

They spontaneously break into song and dance, jump up and down,

spin until they become dizzy and fall to the ground laughing.

They scream to be swung, tossed, lifted, and flipped in the air.

Begging their parents: “Do it again! Do it again!”

That was you once.

So what happened?

Ugh. Too much “adulting.” Too many responsibilities. Too many stresses.Not enough time. Not enough money.

Really though? Is that really what happened?

Sure, lack of time, resources, and too many responsibilities can get in the way of trying new things.

But I suspect that when it comes to dance or play, what really got in the way started long before you became an adult.

Maybe it was the subtle — or not so subtle — messaging from our body-shaming culture that told you you weren’t fit, slender, or coordinated enough to dance.

Or perhaps it was the forces of capitalism, colonialism, and commodification that turned dance into an elite practice — one that seemed to demand you be the right size, the right age, or the right kind of person.

And as a result of all that messaging, you felt rejected or simply lost interest.Your inner dancer went dormant, and you got on with “adulting.”

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The Truth

Dancing. Playing. Feeling free in our bodies.

These are not luxuries — they’re part of being human.

The truth is, you are — and you were always — a dancer.

Maybe you already figured this out. Maybe you’re one of those brave souls who took yourself back to your dancing roots and signed up for a hip-hop or adult ballet class — just for the fun of it. If so, I’m celebrating you.

But what if I told you that dancing could feel even freer?That there’s a safe way to roll, slide, twist, bend, kick, and jump just as joyfully as when you were a kid?

Sure, if you’re 60 it won’t look the same as when you were 6 — but it can feel just as liberating.

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Contact Improvisation: A Dance of Awareness

Since I was 19 years old, I’ve been training in a dance practice called Contact Improvisation.

It was the most complete training I could get to master my craft as a professional dancer.

And I was lucky. In my hometown of Vancouver, BC,

I had the rare opportunity to practice almost daily at EDAM Dance.

So for 30 years, I practiced and practiced.

Eventually, I started to realize — as most people who practice it do — t

hat this was not just a dance practice. It was an awareness practice, a relationship practice, a community-building practice… an embodied listening practice.

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Why? Because It’s Alive.

Firstly, because it’s experiential and improvisational — it’s an inclusive practice.Whoever is dancing it is creating their own version each time.

Secondly, much like Hatha yoga or martial arts, it’s a mind-body practice — a dance that draws your attention to what’s naturally occurring.

You don’t learn steps in front of a mirror and mimic a teacher until you can “do the moves” properly.Instead, in a guided exploration, you experience rolling, walking, running, slipping, and spiralling around the room.

You’re encouraged to get curious about what you’re noticing in your own body.

You get familiar with your movement pathways — how your body folds and opens, where it bends, where it doesn’t. You practice moving from up to down and side to side.

Then, eventually, you make contact with another body. You lean in — literally.You share weight. You learn (or remember) how two bodies bend, fold, and coordinate together.

You begin to respond to the information of touch — direction, weight, pressure, force, and momentum.

You learn how to trust what’s unfolding and your ability to respond to it — to be response-able to it. You listen to what’s emerging and let the rest be.

Before you know it, you’re moving free and uninhibited.You are dancing — and everyone and everything else is dancing in connection with you.

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No Right Body. No Right Way.

To do this, you don’t have to be the right body type, the right gender, the right ethnicity —

you just have to be you.

There is one condition, though:

You have to be brave.

Brave enough to try something new.

Brave enough to let go.

Let go of control.

Let go of the striving to “get it right.”

And instead — surrender to the joy of play again.