It’s one of those days. The energy is low, motivation is nonexistent, and the thought of doing anything remotely active feels like a Herculean task. Maybe funk music is playing, a genre that usually lifts your spirits, but today, it just doesn’t resonate. All you want to do is retreat, find a distraction, anything to avoid facing… well, you’re not even sure what you’re avoiding. That familiar fog of mental and emotional weariness is creeping in, a heavy cloak threatening to smother any spark of vitality. Your body responds in kind, shrinking inwards, muscles tightening, as that inner critic’s voice amplifies, catastrophizing every little thing.
The last thing on your mind is to dance to that funky track. The resistance is palpable. But within this inertia lies a choice: to succumb to the stuckness, to become one with the sluggishness weighing down your body and mind, or to hit ‘play’ and invite movement in, even if it’s just a tiny sway.
Choosing to dance when you don’t feel like dancing is an experiment in itself. It’s an act of curiosity, a gentle nudge to explore what happens when you move despite the lack of motivation. What unfolds when you dance with resistance?
As the song begins, the upbeat rhythm fills the space, a stark contrast to the heaviness you’re experiencing. A wave of longing might wash over you, a yearning for something beyond your current state. Your mind might grasp at external solutions, seeking a quick fix. But the body? It’s resistant. The catchy rhythm, its inherent sassiness, feels incongruous with the lethargy holding you captive. You can feel the music subtly prompting your hips to move, but control kicks in, preventing any surrender to the pelvis’s natural sway.
Instead, you start small. A side step, a gentle shuffle. Shoulders begin to roll, releasing tension you didn’t realize you were holding. Tears might well up, a physical manifestation of emotions beginning to stir. Energy starts to shift, almost imperceptibly at first, as your body gradually begins to loosen its grip. There’s a surprising comfort in simply shaking your fingers and hands, a release of pent-up energy. A neck roll follows, the cervical spine awakening, moving with newfound fluidity. Bit by bit, body part by body part, a sense of aliveness starts to bubble up from within.
Your legs begin to respond, your feet lifting and connecting with the rhythm, however tentatively. Looking down, you realize you’re dancing within the confines of your yoga mat – a familiar, safe space. But your body craves more. You extend a foot beyond the mat’s edge, and a sense of release washes over you, like a dam breaking. Your leg sweeps outwards, claiming space, and a quiet enjoyment arises in that expansion.
This simple act of stepping beyond a boundary sparks a thought: “How often do we unknowingly confine ourselves?” It’s not always physical space; sometimes it’s the invisible walls of roles, situations, or self-limiting beliefs. We build identities around restrictions, living within self-imposed limitations that no longer serve us.
Dance, in its essence – whether the physical act or the metaphorical dance of life – is inherently about growth. It invites us to step, roll, or leap beyond predictable patterns, to break free from the confines of our comfort zones, if we are willing to listen. Freeform movement unlocks an attunement to our inner needs, our innate creative expression, and the energies flowing within and around us.
As we explore diverse movements and rhythms, we familiarize our psyche and spirit with expressing ourselves through form in myriad ways. Gabrielle Roth, the creator of 5 Rhythms Dance, eloquently articulated this profound connection. Through dance, we gain clarity about our edges, the patterns and frameworks where we tend to stagnate or become overly comfortable.
Movement illuminates the rhythms and ways of moving that challenge us on a physical, emotional, or mental level. It can reveal where, developmentally, we might have become stuck in limited patterns of expression, or where we haven’t fully learned to express ourselves freely. Dance becomes a doorway to deeper self-understanding.
Currently, we are all engaged in a dance we didn’t necessarily choose: navigating confined spaces, confronting a spectrum of emotions, and grappling with practical challenges on both personal and global scales. Our routines are disrupted, relationships are shifting. The rhythm of life itself is changing moment to moment, demanding that we listen, surrender, and respond.
This is the invitation: to listen, surrender, and respond. We might resist settling into stillness and listening; the urge to run or freeze might be overwhelming. Reaction might be our default mode. But at each choice point, we have the power to employ tools for soothing our nervous system, for reconnecting with our innate resilience, for softening into the present moment and meeting all that arises with openness.
“You can do it like it’s a great weight on you. Or you can do it like it’s part of the dance,” as Ram Dass wisely said.
My own experience of dancing when motivation was absent transformed my state. It allowed me to fully embody and experience whatever was present in that moment. I became deeply present, stepping out of the confines of my mind. I encountered my resistance to dancing head-on, acknowledging it as part of the experience. I listened to the subtle cues from my body as it gradually opened and expanded. I rediscovered my sense of expansiveness, all while remaining grounded. And yes, I did feel better after dancing. While improved mood wasn’t the objective, it was a welcome outcome of allowing myself to dance with complete permission to simply be, exactly as I was.
An Invitation: Dance When You Don’t Feel Like Dancing:
What would it be like to move when you feel weighed down or restless, stuck or resistant to the present moment? What would it be like to dance?
What unfolds when you truly listen to your body and respond to the music from that place of deep listening?
In your dance, what if you allowed everything to be exactly as it is? And how might that dance, that acceptance, translate into the larger dance of your life, especially during challenging times?
Consider listening and dancing to the funk track that sparked this exploration: “Hand Clapping Song” by The Meters. You can find it on this #dancedaily playlist here.
