
There’s a pandemic. We know it. We’re over it, under it, and as dancers and movement creators, we’re very much still in it. Much of the world has partially adapted to pandemic life, but one year after our worlds went dark, the experience of dancing in a sweaty, crowded room is still elusive; forget about partnering or contact. Dance studios remain at limited capacity, often masks are required and little squares taped on the floor limit our once boundless ability to take up space. Once training like top-of-the-line, collector’s edition cars, we’re now revving our engines, idling in (socially-distanced) parking spaces across the country waiting for some return to normalcy.
Some good news? Though our physical connection is limited, our virtual connections and opportunities have increased tenfold. No, we’re not just waiting. We’re Zooming, and Instagram-LIVE-ing, and giving dance on film more play than it’s gotten since Astaire and Rogers. Class at Broadway Dance Center NYC from Oklahoma? No problem! Auditions for a dance commercial casting from Florida? Self-tape! Against all odds, we are creating. But for what? And maybe even more importantly in our case, for whom?
In many ways social media has become our pseudo-audience, serving as a lifeline to the outside world and fellow creators. It can be a reminder that someone IS in fact out there. All at once, it connects us, and differentiates us; it can be uplifting, and dangerous. As we scroll, our human compare-mode turns on. We can end up questioning ourselves as we consume the lives and art of others. This can add insult to injury. Feeling isolated in a time of isolation is a dangerous place for anyone, but for a dancer or choreographer who thrives on connection through their movement, it can be paralyzing.
What if we took the focus off our yearning for outward connection, just for a moment? What if we allowed ourselves to indulge in connecting with our deepest creative desires?
Screw the pandemic, money troubles, and physical location, let’s conjure up our wildest dreams for movement and creation. Let’s be ridiculous with our imaginations. Take this on with no intention of finding solutions. The only goal during this time of exploration is to watch the movie in your mind and go on a scavenger hunt for the sparks that remind you of the origins of your passion. Move through memories like you would sift through a box of old treasures. Stay here for 10 minutes. Then, allow your eyes to open, and write down what you remember. It can be a phrase that jogs your memory or a drawing; it doesn’t need to make sense to anyone, but you.
Come back tomorrow and re-read it. Write for five minutes about how these sparks make you feel, be vivid with your ideas and imagery. Get it all out. Then challenge yourself, even if you feel done, to write for five more. These phrases and thoughts are part of your origin story.

Return tomorrow and again the next day. Allow it to venture into the realm of “if no one or thing could stop me right now, I’d be doing…” maybe in breath, movement, or song. Return to dream, and recall your “why” as often as you would like. If you begin to turn down a road that sounds like, “but I don’t know how,” hear that cry, then, for now, allow it to be OK that it remains unanswered.
If we let ourselves off the hook of unattainable productivity, it’s possible to make this bizarre time a creative garden. Challenging ourselves to focus on restoring and recharging our creative batteries like it’s our job, because it kind of is.
The valiant endeavor of nurturing the dancer inside of us with no expectations may begin to yield a whisper of crystal-clear direction. If she deeply wants to learn, teach her. Start with one class, virtual if necessary, and just register. If he wants to be heard, be a good listener. Take on the exercise above as movement journaling and just be with him as he expresses. If they want to put themselves out there and create a new way to create, well then, encourage them to be bold and find a way to release and connect through dance, our first language. The best thing we can do for the world is fill our cups with an understanding of our collective experience. When the world returns, they’ll need us to make sense of it for them. They will rely on us to be fluid, expressive, open, escaping them into a place of healing, feeling, and hope.
So, dancer, stay quiet or jump on every TikTok bandwagon there is, just remember to be kind to yourself. We are merely in the wings, awaiting our biggest entrance yet. And for many of us struggling to maintain the bare minimum during this time, know that you’re so far from alone and there’s bravery and possibility in reaching out for support. If you’re struggling to put food on your table, to pay for healthcare, or even to find a reason to wake up tomorrow, the Actors Fund is an excellent place to begin.
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and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Backstage or its staff.