The Dance Chronicles 03:What is the relationship between fatigue and injury in dance?
Fatigue can manifest both mentally and physically, and although these forms are distinct, they are closely interconnected and often influence one another. Fatigue refers to a state of the body and mind commonly associated with tiredness, weakness, and a general sense of malaise. When the body becomes fatigued, its natural cellular response is to rest and slow down. This can result in a feeling of heaviness and reduced speed— a sensory and somatic signal that encourages us to pause.
For dancers, whose performance and stamina are under constant pressure, fatigue can evoke anxiety and worry. In response, dancers may feel compelled to push through exhaustion—what Peter Levine describes as a state of hyperarousal. This pushing can destabilize the body, making cells more susceptible to damage. Cortisol imbalances caused by chronic stress can lead to inflammation, increasing the risk of illness and injury.
While dancers are often taught to listen to their bodies, the demands of performance, financial necessity, and professional commitment can lead them to override these internal signals. Rather than resting, they continue pushing through fatigue. However, when the body is no longer capable of supporting this effort, performance may suffer. A missed landing or poorly executed movement can foster negative self-perceptions such as “I’m not good enough,” compounding emotional distress and increasing the risk of injury.
If the body lacks adequate nourishment and strength to support the physical demands placed upon it, it becomes more vulnerable. This not only affects performance but can also lead to long-term physical and emotional consequences.
The Dance Chronicles 01-What is proprioception and how does it relate to dance learning?
Imagine standing at the edge of an unknown space, unaware that solid ground lies just ahead—how do we find the courage to take that first step forward? What changes within us when we do? Our breath may catch, our posture may shift, and our movement may become tentative or instinctive. This act of stepping into uncertainty reveals something fundamental about proprioception and the dancer.
Proprioception is not only the awareness of space around us, but also a deep sense of how our bodies exist, move, and relate within that space. It is what allows dancers to move with clarity, confidence, and conviction—whether in motion or stillness. Often framed in terms of spatial navigation, proprioceptive awareness goes further: it enriches the dancer’s capacity to be present and responsive, even in moments of stillness. It transforms stillness from absence of movement into a powerful state of listening and readiness.
To me, dance and movement are not only about taking up space by moving through it, but about the profound experience of being moved—by the space itself, by energy, by others. This reciprocal relationship between the dancer and space challenges traditional notions of agency in movement.
I am particularly inspired by the work of Marina Abramović, whose live performances often rely on the heightened spatial awareness shared between performer and audience. In her pieces, the body becomes a vessel—a dancer—not through choreographed steps, but through her acute sensitivity to the environment and the people within it. Her presence and awareness allow the performance to come into being. It is this kind of embodied spatial intelligence that I believe is central to the dancer’s art.
The Dance Chronicles 02:What is the difference between flexibility and hypermobility, and which challenges do these concepts bring to dance training?
Flexibility is a term commonly used in dance training to describe a dancer who moves with ease—executing motions across all planes with grace and fluidity, without compromising their overall physical health. In my own approach, I incorporate fascial knowledge to view flexibility not just as a physical capability, but as a quality of movement that supports balance, adaptability, and optimal function.
However, this perspective hasn't always been part of the conversation. Flexibility is still often viewed as the “holy grail” of dance success—suggesting that if a dancer can do the splits, they will excel. This perception can be misleading. The ability to slide effortlessly into the splits or lift a leg to the head while seated is frequently equated with flexibility, but in many cases, it may actually be a sign of hypermobility.
Hypermobility refers to joints that move beyond the typical range—commonly described as being “double-jointed.” While a hypermobile dancer may display high leg extensions with apparent ease, a closer examination often reveals challenges with control, stability, and support. These deficiencies can increase the risk of injury over time.
For dancers, the challenges of flexibility are both mental and physiological. Hypermobile dancers, in particular, may face a long process of retraining and stabilization. Although extreme flexibility is often celebrated for its aesthetic appeal, there is a delicate balance between what is visually impressive and what is functionally sustainable.
If you could have one super power…
“If you could have one super -power, what would it be?”…
most of us have been asked that question in their lifetime and the answers are often endless and hilarious. One often contemplates a special power they would choose if given the chance. For me, that power has always been the ability to pause time. It's a whimsical desire that I've carried since childhood—a curiosity about the frozen moments and the freedom they could offer. Imagining the world suspended, I wondered about the profound stillness and the untouched possibilities: the places I could explore, the improbable feats I could accomplish (maybe even a cheeky bank heist!) or perhaps my perpetual but unknown need and want to slow down. Yet, beneath the fanciful musings lay deeper questions: would time's halt freeze aging, halt growth, arrest the sun's course, and silence the bustling dynamics of life?
This fascination persisted into adulthood, influencing my academic writings at university and even my creative pursuits Inspired by Michael Ende's "Momo," my hand made candles—MimiMomo Candles—that symbolized the essence of time reclaimed. Each candle, adorned with a compass charm, served as a reminder to cherish every moment while it burns. Created during the solitude of lockdown, these candles became a poignant reflection of our collective pause, a time to reclaim what's sacred, even as production eventually ceased. But the essence of MimiMomo persists, awaiting its resurgence.
As an intuitive practitioner of body-based arts like Pilates and Biodynamic massage, I've found that true richness emerges when we honor time's natural flow. In sessions, I've learned not to rush the process, allowing space for subtle shifts and deep revelations. Sometimes, in our haste, we unintentionally disrupt this natural unfolding, caught up in the modern frenzy of time. When this happens in sessions, I return to a place of presence—after a redirecting talk with myself I start reconnecting with my breath and attuning to my client's rhythm. This return allows the session to unfold organically, honoring each individual's unique journey within the boundless expanse of time.
One of my favorite concepts of time, not surprisingly, comes from the Japanese with their concept of MA, which is a pause in time, an interval or emptiness in space. Ma is the time and space life needs to breathe, to feel, and to connect. If we have no time, if our space is restricted, we cannot grow. This universal principle applies to every aspect of life and the natural world. I often aim to bring this concept into my work within Pilates, massage, and movement.
In the context of body-based practices, freezing time within a time-space mirrors the biodynamic approach to the vasomotoric cycle* and the autonomic nervous system. Just as pausing time externally brings everything to a halt, freezing in breath or within the nervous system interrupts the flow of growth and movement within the body. It is a reminder that our physiological processes require uninterrupted cycles to maintain health and vitality. When we freeze these cycles, we impede natural progress and transformation.
*The vasomotoric cycle is a term that comes from biodynamic psychology. Gerda Boyesen identified that energy moves through cycles and our ability to complete the cycle represents healthy self regulation. The cycle has four phases; charging, action/expression, winding down and relaxation.
…why I never always felt free with “free flow”…
17th century poet John Dryden wrote a quote that often sticks in my mind time and time again in all aspects of my life.
"stiffling the urge to dance is bad for your health, it rusts your spirit and your hips"
Reassuring to know that this idea still deemed important back before the age Instagram and the fitness explosion.
We know deeply in our souls that movement helps us move but many of us find this a hard prospect to imagine implementing into life. I know when I have periods of reduced movement or exercise I find the hardest thing is to get back into it. We all know that inner gulp through gritted teeth when someone suggests “go and do some light exercise” after feeling like the only thing you feel capable of is doing a days work and cooking an evening meal.
For me, these moments often occur when I am overworked, prioritising earning money and emotionally strained, my confidence reduces and my body stiffens up with both will power and physiologically, a vicious cycle really. My partner who is a dedicated meditator and tai chi practitioner who I watch how they practice these in their life, whilst I know that they often battle with resistance too, I am often in awe of their consistency, even when gently encouraged to join them, the stubborn nature in me dismisses it. The mere suggestion of engaging in light exercise often triggers an instinctual resistance, prompting reflection on whether this resistance originates from my mental state or my physical condition.
Currently, however my movement practice is much more in flow than it was, after making the time. I am moving my body in new ways and finding that other systems are moving better in me. Though my energy may be the same as before but my energy or focus in the things that I had a passion for are returning and the passion in me is also returning. This is manifesting in a different way than I expected. I am not energised to do 20k runs, surf everyday or complete 100 skips a day, this new energy is creative and is quietly guiding me. This is that part of me perhaps I needed and I was missing for a bit.
Inner Rhythm
I must admit, I've never been particularly drawn to 5 Rhythms or ecstatic dance. While I appreciate the concept, as someone with a background in classical based dance training I've found the idea of ecstatic dance-based practices somewhat off-putting in the past. However, I recognize that my perspective may be influenced by the framework I've placed upon myself. It's interesting to consider how our conditioning, especially through formal dance training, can limit our openness to alternative movement practices. The different techniques and styles we're taught often become ingrained as the "right" or "only" way to move. Similarly, this conditioning exists in our daily practices and routines, where certain actions are deemed acceptable or expected. Despite this conditioning, when I have attended these sessions, I've noticed a shift in how I feel and have found enjoyment in the release it offers me.
The reminiscence of my first ecstatic 5 rhythms dance class, two decades ago in Boston, Massachusetts, remains vivid in my memory. Not really aware of what I was going to, I found myself swept into the swirling energy of the class, guided by my uncle, now in his mid-70s, whose vibrant spirit seemed to defy age.
After two hours of tentative participation, the class began to come together or so I thought. Initially unsure, I couldn't help but chuckle as I watched my uncle twirl about with these enormous, rainbow-hued ribbons, revealing a playful, inner hippy that had been hiding in plain sight. Yet, amidst the chuckles and my typical 18 year old teenager sense of perhaps feeling a little ‘uncool’ in it all, there was a sense of wonder—a recognition of the sheer joy radiating from his every move and really my first introduction to what dance is and what it can be and more importantly what it can do! Despite a decade of classical ballet and professional contemporary dance training, I realized that true mastery of movement transcends technique—it resides in the pulsating rhythm of one's own being.
My uncle and aunt stand as living testaments to the vitality of movement. Both in their 70s now, they embody the belief that staying active is synonymous with staying alive. Recently, my uncle pursued a new passion, qualifying as a yoga teacher—a testament to the fact that time and age does not defy our ability to move.
In conversation with my aunt about the transformative power of movement, she expressed a sentiment that resonated deeply with me:
"yes I think it is crucial to move one's body. Sometimes only moving my body changes my perspective on life. Once I move, I feel better"
When discussing the concept of transitioning from regular movement to dancing, many individuals initially express hesitation. They often mention their ability to perform structured exercises like the grapevine or participate in aerobic classes with music, but the prospect of dancing seems daunting to them. In response, I emphasize that they are already engaging in choreography without realizing it. Whether it's following a set routine in an aerobic class or executing specific movements to music, they are essentially following a prescribed way of moving.
In my teaching approach, I aim to expand this perspective. Instead of teaching a singular "correct" way to move, I offer a variety of movement vocabularies. By presenting different approaches, I provide a framework that allows for individual expression and interpretation. This approach creates a supportive environment for those who may feel apprehensive about dancing, offering them the freedom to explore movement in their own unique way.
Through this process, individuals can discover their personal style and develop confidence in their movement abilities. It's about finding "a way" that resonates with them, rather than conforming to a predefined notion of how to move. Ultimately, this personalized approach enables individuals to experience the transformative power of movement in a way that feels authentic and meaningful to them.
In conclusion, the journey from simply moving to confidently dancing is not about conforming to a singular way of expression. It's about embracing the freedom to explore movement in a way that resonates with each individual. By offering a variety of movement vocabularies and guiding individuals through their own unique paths, we can unlock the transformative potential of movement. So, whether you're taking your first steps onto the dance floor or refining your technique, remember that there's no one "right" way to dance. Embrace your own way, and let the joy of movement lead you forward.
Miranda
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A thank you to my Uncle Tad and Auntie Claudyne for inspiring this blog entry!
For information on my latest movement workshops please click on link below
“sometimes we just don’t feel like the plan we made”
“sometimes we just don’t feel like the plan we made”
I am always navigating myself in this world, every day I try to trust what the day will bring but often it brings in the unpredictable moments despite the planning. The word navigate seems overused in my vocabulary at the moment. I use it to refer to how I feel my way through my career, relationships and health choices. It seems like a word that I can really make use of and that can adapt to anything and any challenges in my life.
Sure, navigating used to be about getting from one place to another. But nowadays, it's more about going with the flow, exploring new horizons, and seeing where life takes you.
Conventionally, there's a common belief in the linear progression of life, marked by a clear beginning and end. Yet, our journey spans far beyond mere points of origin and conclusion, offering continuous opportunities for learning and personal development. This destination we seek may not adhere to traditional solidity; rather, it may take on fluid, intangible forms. Perhaps, it's a journey without a fixed endpoint, where the pursuit of growth becomes the destination itself.
What I'm aiming to convey here might not be crystal clear, but as I was exchanging messages with a close friend, both of us employed in caregiving roles, the topic of energy levels emerged, as it often does. We frequently discuss the challenge of preserving energy for ourselves while fulfilling our caregiving duties. It's an ongoing process, one I aspire to improve upon. At the end of her message she wrote:
“sometimes we just don’t feel like the plan we made”
We often plan to experience life fully, but sometimes our plans don't align with reality. Despite our expectations, plans often change, leading us in unexpected directions.
So….the journey of life is a constant navigation through the unpredictable waters of existence. While we may try to chart our course and stick to our plans, we inevitably encounter unexpected challenges and detours along the way. However, it is in these moments of uncertainty that we truly learn to navigate - to adapt, to explore new horizons, and to embrace the fluidity of our experiences.
As we reflect on our personal journeys, it becomes evident that life is not a linear path with a clear beginning and end, but rather a continuous voyage of growth and discovery. We must learn to let go of rigid expectations and embrace the inherent unpredictability of life.
In our quest for balance and fulfillment, it is essential to recognize the importance of self-care and flexibility. Just as sailors must know when to set sail and when to drop anchor, we too must learn when to forge ahead and when to pause, replenishing our energy and reassessing our direction.