Rediscovering My Body

I didn’t expect much when I signed up for my first class at Dance Improvisation Lab—just curiosity, and maybe a little desperation. I hadn’t danced in over two decades. Life had taken over: work, family, responsibilities. My body had become something functional—something I pushed, rushed, ignored. But deep down, I missed the way I used to feel when I danced as a teenager: free, alive, in rhythm with myself.

Walking into the studio that first day, I was nervous. There were no mirrors. No loud music. No teacher barking counts. Just a circle of people in socks, soft lighting, and a quiet kind of energy that felt… safe.

The facilitator invited us to start by lying on the floor. “Just listen to your body,” she said. Not perform. Not improve. Just listen. That moment cracked something open in me.

Over the weeks that followed, I learned to trust my movements again. We explored weight, flow, tension, impulse. Sometimes we danced alone. Sometimes we partnered. Sometimes we didn’t move at all, just breathed and noticed.

What surprised me most wasn’t how much I moved—it was how much I felt. I felt joy. I felt awkward. I felt grief. I felt spacious. And through it all, I started to feel at home in my body again.

There was a moment during one session—I remember it vividly—when we were guided to move with our eyes closed. I stopped caring about how I looked. I moved like I was underwater, then like fire, then like nothing at all. And afterward, I cried. Not because I was sad, but because something in me had been reawakened. Something I didn’t even know I had lost.

Dance Improvisation Lab gave me more than movement. It gave me permission. Permission to show up, to be imperfect, to explore, to reclaim. I’m not “good” at dancing, whatever that means. But I’m good at being in my body, now. And that’s everything.

If you’ve ever felt like you lost that connection to yourself—like your body became an afterthought—I can’t recommend this space enough. It’s not about learning steps. It’s about learning yourself. One breath, one movement, one moment at a time.