What Aerial Dance Taught Me about Control, Letting Go, and Learning to Soar
Author’s note: This post was originally written and published in 2013. While so much has changed since this time, my passion for the aerial arts has endured, as well as the lessons learned. Revisiting this post over 10 years later has brought back many memories and emotions, all of which have culminated in the present moment. It feels important to repost this now, as a historical record of sorts, but also to provide a glimpse into the origins of Unbound Counseling Services, PLLC and to serve as a reminder (and encouragement, dear reader) that we can transform even our most painful experiences into life-enhancing opportunities with time, values-driven action, and the right support.
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For the last 10 weeks, I’ve been learning the art of aerial dance. The lessons were a Christmas gift from my fiancé and I was so excited to begin a new adventure. The classes couldn’t have come at a better time as I was still in the midst of a family crisis- my father fell 30 feet from a scaffolding back in September. The accident left him paralyzed from the waist down with minimal upper body movement. The irony did not escape me that I was about to purposefully take to the air, where there is always the risk of falling.
In aerial dance, you work with an apparatus. The lyra and fabric were my two apparatus of choice. The lyra is a hoop that hangs vertically from the ceiling and has the potential to spin- similar to a coin spinning on a countertop. The fabric apparatus is comprised of two long tails of fabric flowing from the ceiling to the floor. With both apparatus, I learned climbing techniques, specialized locks, balances, poses and mid-air movements. Little did I realize, I was learning a lot about life as well.
When you’re working with an apparatus, it’s unpredictable. You never do the same skill the same way twice because the apparatus never behaves in the same way! At first, this presented a lot of frustration. I wanted to be able to “perfect” a skill, and it was difficult to do so when the apparatus wanted to go one way and I wanted it to go another. This lack of control was incredibly frustrating. My instructor must have sensed my frustration, because she gave me some advice: “Dance with the apparatus as if you were dancing with a partner.”
This completely shifted my attitude toward the apparatus. Instead of fighting, I went “with.” Instead of trying to control, I responded with curiosity- just as if I were dancing and interacting with another unique living being. I noticed that when I stopped trying to control the apparatus, I had more flexibility and freedom. The less energy I spent trying to control, the more energy I had to explore. The more I trusted in the apparatus, the more freedom I felt. I started to enjoy the unpredictability and the creativity that emerged when I appreciated each encounter as a new experience every time- full of possibility.
I discovered these lessons can apply to life as well. When we resist, fight and attempt to control situations (or people) in life we often experience pain and frustration. When we let go of control and approach life with curiosity and acceptance, we can experience more joy and freedom. This approach is called Radical Acceptance. Radical acceptance is about accepting the present moment and recognizing the role that you have played in creating your current situation. As a result, it opens up an opportunity to respond to that situation in a new way that is less painful to you and others.
Radical Acceptance is not about “giving up”, but accepting and managing difficult emotions so that you don’t feel like life is just “happening to” you. I’ve been practicing Radical Acceptance on a daily basis, particularly around the situation with my father. It’s one of the most difficult skills to learn, and also one of the most rewarding. Fortunately you don’t have to leave the ground to learn it! There is an excellent book by Tara Brach, entitled Radical Acceptance that can guide you on your journey.
