What if failure is just another word for play?

The other day, I went to the beach and improvised along the ocean. ⠀

It wasn’t my “best” dancing. ⠀

But there was something alluring about that imperfection.

The uneven ground inviting me off balance, sand derailing my pathways, the salty ocean wind a dance partner all of its own… ⠀

This return to my body feels important to me. ⠀

A vulnerable, tender thing that often feels like failure…⠀

But what is failure if not play in disguise?⠀

And what is liberation if not play? ⠀

***

Please know, as we return to our dancing, moving bodies, after 1 yr+ of highly stagnated lives, that you have the right to feel the FULLNESS of that return.⠀

The stumbling, the falling, the awkwardness, the weak muscles, the shortness of breath, the pandemic panza, the vulnerable reawakening of muscles you haven’t used in months, the beauty of being a living breathing body that gets to learn and fail and play…

ALL OF IT.⠀

I just started going back to dance class a few weeks ago, and it’s been a real humbling experience. Simultaneously loving the return of rhythms and movements that had lied dormant in my bones all these months, and spiraling with anxiety in all the moments my body simply could not keep up.  ⠀

The more I talk to folks though, the more I’m realizing I’m not alone in this feeling. I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve heard someone self-consciously talk about needing to get rid of their “covid belly”, or talk about how terrified they are of dancing again…⠀

***

⠀

Here’s an invitation: what if you met that fear with curiosity & play?

(What if curious is just another word for love? What if failure is just another word for play?)

What might you find?⠀

⠀

Video credits…⠀

musica: Iemanjá⠀

movement improvisation: Marina Magalhães, ocean water, sand & maresia ⠀

*I don’t have the rights to this song