Accidents happen. While dancing, someone fell on my knee, causing a complete tear of my ACL in my left leg. Initially, even the doctors couldn’t fully assess the extent of the injury, as there was no pain, no inflammation, and my overall mobility was good. We only discovered the full damage once they operated.
As a movement teacher and professional dancer, I felt limitations in my performance and a lack of support beneath me. Undergoing surgery was not a decision I made lightly; it involves risk and is a very personal choice - one connected to your physical and mental state, ambitions, and the core meaning of your practice. For me, movement and dance are deeply tied to freedom of expression through the body, and I wasn’t willing to give up on that.
This injury has become a process of rediscovering movement in its simplest, elemental forms. Being able to bend my knee, press into the floor, and bear my body’s weight is essential for walking, which I couldn’t do for a time. I’ve come to realize that actions like jumping, standing on one foot, or squatting are actually complex.
The journey from relearning how to walk to dancing again is a humbling experience for a movement expressionist like me, offering an opportunity to reflect on many things I once took for granted. An able body is not something to take for granted; now, it’s an injury, but it will be an age in the future, and the limitations that come with it are worth considering now.
Learning not to take the body for granted awakens curiosity and appreciation for even the most minor details, opening the path of movement as a journey of wonder.
If you’re currently injured or facing a setback in your practice, it helps to stay consistent with your recovery exercises (and not to question that) and have a clear vision of what you want to return to (this one is crucial). But I must confess, this wasn’t enough for me.
I’ve used dance for many years to self-regulate and find a sense of inner balance. Moving is a way to listen to myself that helps me release, let go, confront, and transform. Exercising isn’t dancing.
So, from time to time, I would simply improvise to a song, even if it was just sitting and moving whatever parts of my body were available to me, to remind myself of the physical sensation of doing what I love, which re-ignited my vision every time it started to fade.
Warmly,
Roser *The video shows my first dance with Tom, only 3 months after my surgery. I feel a rising inner strength as I dance more often every day. I am returning with a new perspective and strong determination to keep learning, sharing, and moving forward in my movement journey:
**We are putting a lot of effort into our upcoming live workshops tour in the U.S. and leveraging the knowledge from my recovery to improve our online courses. Move with us live or online to experience more of our ideas about recovery, longevity, meditation, and the healing power of movement.
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