A Personal View on Nature, Dance and Life

5th June 2017, Nepal

We had been trekking in the mountains, visiting schools in underprivileged communities (read more about it here!) , and that night we stayed in Sabet, where a community from the ’Gurung’ ethnic group lived. We walked along the carefully paved stone path unveiling the magic of the village as we entered it. Some houses had polished wooden roofs, catching our eyes for their beauty, but especially for the contrast of such ornamentation in the local context of poverty and limited resources. We then discovered that the architecture dates back to centuries ago, when the Gurung people migrated from Tibet to settle in Nepal, giving origin to villages like Sabet.

As the sun set, the delicate shadows of the far-distanced trees outlined the horizon, and the mountain range made it impossible to ignore the power of Nature. My gaze traced the trees up to the sky, where I could see the clouds… densely present clouds that misled me to believe they were within the reach of my fingers tips while flying miles away. They were seemingly static, but inherently dynamic. For the impatient outsider it seemed like they didn’t move, but they actually flew from peak to peak. They had a relentless attitude, a persistent flow, they kept going no matter what.

I found the clouds very inspiring. They reminded me of how I feel following my passion for dance: constantly persisting step by step (sometimes with results, sometimes without). I still had a lot to learn from the efficient and effortless motion of the clouds: how to move towards a goal with a motion that arises by itself, and hence will persist sustainably upon its accomplishment. On this village, at high altitudes of the Annapurna range, something special happened that brought me a new light on this understanding. Something that would bring my journey with dance closer to the harmony of the clouds in the Nepali sky, and to which I have dedicated this piece.

The Gurung women immediately greeted us upon arrival. They came with hand-made necklaces of flowers, gracefully applied the Thika on our foreheads — a ritual we were already experts on — and led us enthusiastically to the Nepali mattresses  where we would sleep that night (the very, very hard 5cm-thick ones we hadn’t quite got used to yet). Turning their homes into a unique guest-house, the entrepreneurial women had converted the occasional stream of hikers into a business opportunity. Providing home-made meals, constant engagement and a range of cultural experiences, they managed to offer a competitive advantage over the typical guest houses for hikers. The hospitable Gurung women embraced us, fed us with delicious Dhal Batt, and offered to come back later that evening to dance for us – an offer which we undoubtedly accepted.

The team being fed in Sabet by the entrepreneurial Gurung women.

The Gurung women came on their colourful costumes and started dancing for us in the Himalayan valley. Something special happened to me then. They were bouncing their feet to the music, right to left, left to right, without much complication, and had their arms accompanying the movement, occasionally rotating their wrists on a delicate manner. My initial reaction was of disappointment, when I didn’t see the changing rhythms, agile footwork, graceful arms, or rapid turns which I was somehow expecting.

“Why was I expecting that?” — I wondered. It was the canon of beauty that my mind had accustomed to from years of dance training and standardised styles where everyone has to look the same. At some point in their dance, I allowed myself to let go of those expectations, and my eyes suddenly opened to the joy they portrayed. “Dance is about how it makes you feel.” — I thought to myself. In the absence of an established cannon of beauty to follow, you can only be guided by the joy of your body moving to the music. This pure joy beats any technique and it is beautiful to watch.

In this memorable place that night, I unlearned years of dance training. I unlearned years of worries about the perfect technique. I unlearned significant concerns on minute details. I closed my eyes and started to imagine the freedom, the pleasure, the ultimate joy of not having to be perfect to dance fully. By dance fully I mean letting go through dance, expressing my emotions through the movement, getting lost and finding myself in the dance without judging the shape of my moves. I imagined being able to feel, and share, and express without thinking “you aren’t good enough yet”.

Then I opened my eyes, and realised that for a long time, I was the only obstacle to my own dreams, the barrier to my own leaps, the constraints to my own freedom. I realised that there is nothing to wait for. My fuel should be the joy that I feel every time I dance, every time I train. If the journey is fulfilling and joyful, the destination will arise by itself.

The more I let go of the need for perfection, the more accepting I became with my own flaws, vulnerability and imperfections, the more compassionate I became with others, and the more joy I could grow when I dance. As I cultivated this joy, I began to appreciate the multiple possibilities I have to dance, and to use dance to connect with people and create a better world. Today, I understand whole-heartedly I want to dance to express who I am, to connect with other people, and to be free, not perfect. I don’t care if dance is considered to be my ‘professional career’ or not, as my intention remains the same regardless of the tags. I still want to devote more time and conscious effort into improving my technique, so that I can achieve more freedom as a dancer. However, now I understand how this is an ongoing journey, not a destination. Along the journey, we should dance joyfully with our hearts and souls.

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Improvisation for Gurung community in Nepal!

Gurung dance!