One of my long-time passion is dancing. Folk dance has an imprint on my bone as I’ve practiced it throughout elementary school. After 13-year old, heavy academic work demolished my artistic pursuit, and I involuntarily suspended my love for dance.
At the beginning of this year, I have a whimsical desire to resume my fondness for dancing. At first, it was a simplistic thought. I needed an alternative activity as opposed to climbing mountains. Though I enjoyed contemplating and listening to various podcasts while hiking, it sets me to an immeasurable static status quo — which perhaps is too of an advanced lifestyle for my age. I feel as if I’m already 80-year old and viewing life in its purest form.
Every hike is a spiritual cleanse in nature, which is organically beautiful. It’s healthy somehow, but it doesn’t provide me an exciting perspective to reflect on myself anymore. I feel that I’m walking in an ideal self (or the future self) but lack the conversation with my current, fragmented, and unpolished self.
Later, I realize that the urge to explore my body movements in Hip Hop becomes a profound self-discovery journey. Hip Hop culture is well-known for its freestyle and an attitude of inclusiveness, which is a perfect dance genre for me to explore the hidden entanglements in my mind that I haven’t been objectively perceiving yet. For instance, I wondered: can I manifest the self-saw “free spirit” in my mind into the practical field? How relaxed can I be when I entirely dissolve the seemingly rational thoughts in my brain?
After a few dance classes, I not only rekindle the physical liveliness within my body, but I also successfully pause the intensive thoughts that echos in my indefatigable consciousness. I found the void of not thinking is just as euphoric as contemplating intensively.
In the sixth session, we had a choreographic filming opportunity. It was exhilarating to be participating in a team project where everyone wore black blazers and mono-color T-shirts. The team of six looked like a K-pop group. I could see everyone’s excitement by observing the pearls of sweat on their forehead.
The room ambiance was exclusive and intimate, with two neon sticks shining in red. Although I stood in the second row on the right end, I told myself to try my best, and I did.
My episodic memory has always been excellent. Before the filming day, I’ve been practicing the moves non-stop in every scenario possible: after waking up, in the shower, and before sleeping. I’m confident that I’ve memorized all the moves correctly and recited 99% beats of the song.
The final cut video came out a few days later. My shyness was risen from inward while watching myself dancing. It made me recall the school days when my final grades were released at the end of the semester. Until I see the result, I won’t bother to guess.
I replayed it in a loop, not to be narcissistic about myself but to look closely at my counterparts who clearly show distinctive body movements than mine. There was a significant finding — I’m the one who memorizes most moves correctly (but still missed a few beats), but all of the others are dancing more freely than me. Each has a personal style; their arms and legs are intertwined into the music naturally and look in unison with the futuristic neon lights. Simply put, they look so much more relaxed and exceptional than me.
Perhaps I’m being too critical of myself.
Only by objectively comparing and observing can I know my body’s authentic manifestation. I might encounter many euphoric moments while listening to the Hip Hop music, and I also might envision myself as a more creative and free-spirited person than my counterparts. However, the body expression doesn’t lie. My stiffness shows that the lack of experience in a field that values freestyle can’t cancel out the good feeling that I construct in my mind.
Watching myself dance, I found it hilarious and rewarding at the same time. I learned that the inflexibilities of my body moves are due to the rigorous pattern of rote and neglect of the actual flow. I know the concept well but fail to bring it to the practical field. I’m also aware that it doesn’t because I don’t try hard enough. It’s just a matter of accumulated experiences and, more importantly — a personal style that one grows from the inward naturally over time. I don’t think I have a style yet, or will I never cultivate one. Perhaps I could only have it when I pursue it least deliberately.
If it were a few years ago, I might’ve felt discouraged and potentially labeled myself not good at dancing and gave up. But not this time. My intention for starting my Hip Hop journey is positive without ambitious incentives involved. I wanted a workout alternative, and the 90-min non-stop aerobic training gives me the exact opportunity to sweat till unlocking my endorphin pathways. I also wished to see an objective view of myself as an artistic form of being — I was curious about what I’ve missed capturing when I’m mainly concentrated on my personal insights most of the time.
All in all, the practice of Hip Hop is not only refreshing but also enriching in an individual experience both physically and spiritually. Lately, I have enjoyed joking about my downfalls and weaknesses. I figured that when you can’t change a situation or a congenital trait, perhaps developing an awareness of it could alleviate the fear and a sense of resistance. I hope it’s a sign of courage, as Judy Smith well-put in her book “Good Self, Bad Self:”
the key to courage is thinking about the energy you waste being afraid.
