Dance like no one's watching
How spontaneous dancing is a creative gift to yourself
When my daughter was three-years old her favourite activity was donning her beloved multicoloured all-in-one tutu and dancing wildly on the rug in our living room.
Clutching a bear in each hand and with a spare stuffed down the front of her tutu, she’d very enthusiastically jump up and down, arms (and bears) waving.
‘You, too, Mummy!’ she’d call out, and so I’d join her, the two of us grooving to the beat of what was an eclectic collection of songs.
Men at Work, Jamiroquai, The Finn Brothers, The Weeping Willows, Nena’s 99 Luftballoons, the Goo Goo Dolls and so much more, each rhythm change hotly anticipated by this dancing team of two, our moves sometimes planned out in advance but mostly at the whim of the moment.
When you dance to music you know well, you’re able to anticipate each bit of it. You can gear up for the dramatic arm swing when the chorus hits, stomp your feet in time with the beat, and pause dramatically with arms flung wide when the music does the same.
While my daughter could seemingly keep dancing forever, eventually the day would intervene in the form of lunch or dinner or whatever activity we had planned, and we’d stop.
Creative boost
But the effect would linger on, a feeling of something having been cracked open. Because when you move just for the sheer pleasure of it you unlock a part of yourself that doesn’t always get enough airtime. This is the part that plays, that experiments and explores, that is entirely creative, and that doesn’t care how it looks or what might happen next.
It’s rare that we allow ourselves to move so spontaneously, without a script and without any kind of censure. But when we do, we’re giving ourselves the creative gift of taking part in what is a very powerful creative practice.
You’ll find that even after just a few minutes of dancing like no-one’s watching you’ll feel not only physically energised but creatively energised, too, and on the way to reconnecting with yourself and with your imagination.
All you need to do is choose your favourite song and go for it.
These days, we still often break out some spontaneous dance moves. We bounce around in the kitchen, our moves sharper than when my daughter was three-years old, all those years ago, and more often in sync. Plus, our combined sense of the absurd is more finely tuned and our posturing more performative.
And each time we do we laugh and laugh, and if I shut my eyes I can picture that little girl in her tutu, with her bears and her unbridled conviction that this is exactly what she should be doing.