I recognize that dance is a form of self-expression. Body bends into a front walkover, waist sways from side-to-side, and legs slide into a split. I move to “Never Be Like You,” to every beat of the drum, to every powerful lyric. As my body interprets the emotion of the song, I kick my leg up into a tilt. “I would give anything to change this fickle-minded heart,” the musician sings. One skill after the other, my worries fade from memory; they are no longer the center of attention. This beautiful yoga studio, this wood floor, this is my stage. My leg kicks into a scorpion, head tilting backward, arms opening up to encourage myself to breathe easy. Emotions guide movement. Straddle press handstand. Split. Scorpion. Full turn. “Please just look me in my face, tell me everything’s okay,” the musician continues to sing passionately. Body bends into a bridge, leg kicks over into a standing position. I embrace my femininity, my flexibility, my body’s strengths and flaws. I can move without restraint. Self-expression knows no bounds.
My heart embraces movement, every tilt, every graceful walkover, every gentle sway led by the waist. I can express myself in any way I choose. I briefly settle into warrior one pose, eventually resting my hands on the ground to transition into downward dog. I subconsciously place emphasis on opening my lungs. “What I would to take away… allegiance to the pain,” the musician sings. Her lyrics allow me to heal slowly. I sit still for a moment, head spinning from countless upside-down poses. I breathe. My freedom came alive. And the reflection in the yoga studio’s mirrors was the only one to witness it. But I am healing. I am free. I am unrestrained, unapologetically expressing myself. A front walkover, another over-split, and one more tilt, and I’m ready to head home. Ready to face any challenges that I may encounter later.