As I move into my empty-nester era and my youngest children are all off to university, I often spend time reflecting back on my university years and what it felt like to have the road seem so endless and open in front of me. It really felt like there were no obstacles, no major road bumps to detour me as I navigated youth, passion and my dreams. The impossible was possible and I woke each day with a privileged sense of hope. Each morning I mindlessly went on to spend my days dancing at York University, working towards my dream of a professional life in dance. I had just started my own company and I spent countless hours stretched across a black, rubber floor, losing myself and finding myself over and over again. This seemed to go on repeat, until one day it didn’t.
I received a phone call at my work that took that smooth paved road right from under my feet and what was left was unfamiliar terrain.
A car accident.
No pain.
It was quick.
I lost one of my best friends instantly that day and I simultaneously lost the innocent part of myself. I had losses before. I knew grief and stared it in the eye multiple times. I considered myself seasoned at funerals and goodbyes, but this was different. The goodbye was stolen from me and so was my steady ground.
Dance was my place of solace. It was my constant when thigs in my life were in turmoil and I used to equate it to an “invisible limb”. It was a part of me that I relied on to reach things, they just happened to be things I was reaching inside of myself. But this time was different. Returning to the studio and classes terrified me and I avoided it for 2 weeks. I had all the support I needed around me but I didn’t trust my “invisible limb” to keep me standing this time. This time it felt like movement might bring me to a place I wanted to avoid. I could not separate movement and truth, you see, as I danced from somewhere within and that place was a tangled mess. Little did I know, that movement and dance, was the safe touch that I needed to unweave the emotions that were trapped.
I share this story as I enter my calling as a death doula and I revisit grief and the myriad of journeys that it takes each of us on. Grief is far from linear and is a deeply personal and complex journey that affects both mind and body. During times of loss, emotions like sadness, anger, confusion, and numbness are often accompanied by physical symptoms that can be as varied as the individual themselves. But there’s a powerful tool to support the healing process that may not come to mind immediately: movement.
I found myself using movement as a tool to, not overcome, but face my grief and the power it afforded me during that time propelled me into further studies of movement as therapy and dance as communication. Whether through yoga, dance, or somatic practices, movement can help alleviate some of the physical and emotional tolls that grief takes on the body.
Grief often brings a whirlwind of emotions, which may feel “stuck” if we have no outlet to express them. This is where movement can be transformative. Certain movement practices, like freeform dance or somatic exercises, create a space to release feelings that words cannot express. For example, gentle shaking or spontaneous dance can help release pent-up frustration or sadness, providing a way for the body to communicate and let go without the need for language. And sometimes, let’s be real, there are no words to match our feelings. Movement allows emotions to flow through the body, helping to process and release them gently.
When grieving, we can feel disconnected from ourselves or even numb to our surroundings. By reconnecting with our body, we rebuild a sense of wholeness and safety, finding strength and resilience within ourselves. Movement teaches us to approach our grief journey with gentleness, reminding us that we are still here, capable of healing and growth.
Movement isn’t a cure for grief, nor should it be. But it is a valuable tool that can help alleviate some of the emotional and physical burdens that come with loss. Movement offers us an opportunity to support our healing process in a compassionate, embodied way. By embracing the power of movement, we create a pathway for release, connection, and renewal—guiding us through grief with the comfort of our own breath and body.
Dance and movement have been a place of comfort for me all my life. A space where I feel safe and in my truest form. Movement has walked the pathway of loss of friends, grandparents, pets, my mother. It has been an intentional walk, a moment of meditation, a lake swim. It has been a solo dance that replaces words too difficult to share. What will life look like for me when movement is no longer my “invisible limb” on which I can lean on? I believe there is movement in every breath and in all that surrounds us and in that sense, when the time comes, I plan to move and dance myself right into my next journey!
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