Worlds Collide

I have an undergraduate degree in dance, and a masters degree in clinical social work.  I currently do both professionally.  I've gone through phases of keeping these worlds separate, or bringing them together and allowing the wires to cross if a sensible opportunity might present itself.  Although they SEEM worlds apart, practicing social work could easily be compared to dancing.  Moving here there and everywhere, both in my body and mind: doing home visits, going to meetings, handling crises, keeping all of the important information in my head and on paper, receiving difficult emotions and supporting people through trauma - present and past.  Often like dance, it is a negotiation of time, space, and emotional content/response.

I see dance as my release - the physical manifestation and processing of the mental/emotional content that I deal with as a social worker.  All day, I take in other people's information... their problems, their feelings, their fears and hopes.  And I am honored to do the work that I do, and to share in these people's lives.  It is extremely gratifying and humbling.  And I learn from my clients all the time. Sometimes I am in such disbelief about all the terrible things they have experienced in their lives, and yet how they have the courage to carry on.  At times, it does get extremely hard... and dance provides me a space in which to express my own feelings or emotions or responses to my work (and my life in general) that have been stored up, blocked, or put on a shelf so that I can continue on.

Lately, my social work/dance worlds have been colliding in surprising ways.  

One of the dance companies that I am a long-time company member with, is in residence at a local hospital - more specifically with a center that treats cancer patients.  Members of the company lead patients in the waiting rooms through a series of stretches and movements while they wait to see doctors; they teach classes for the staff - gentle movement classes that focus on easing stress and stretching their overworked and tired muscles; and doing occasional performances in the main lobby for staff, patients, visitors, etc to see. 
In the past few months, I've known two people to get treated at this particular center for their advanced stage illnesses.  One was the executive director of the nonprofit where I work as a social worker.  The other, was the mother of my co-worker.  Unfortunately, heart-breakingly...only a few months after their devastating diagnoses, they both passed on, way too soon.

Only weeks later, I found myself at the cancer center for a scheduled dance performance, thinking of those who have been loved and lost.

And as we performed excerpts of our newest work, titled "Worship/Home," the sun shown through the windows, behind us and over us as we danced.  It transformed our performance space (the lobby, pretty much) into a lovely nook with an ethereal glow.   There was something magical about this particular day, this time, this place, and this dance, and how it all came together.  We reached a point in our performance, where we go into the audience and ask someone questions about their favorite room in their home.  I had noticed a woman in the audience, wearing pink scrubs and holding her lunch in her lap. I couldn't really tell, but it seemed as though she was tearing up as she had been watching.  I approached her and the person beside her to ask if someone would be willing to let me ask a few questions.  Enthusiastically, she said, "sure! I would!"  Unexpected, but great! I thought.  I asked her if she had a favorite room in her home.  "My bedroom," she said.  And I asked her what about that room made it special to her, or what she felt when she was there.  She looked at me with a crooked smile, and said  "It's peaceful.  And I think there.  And sometimes..." her voice broke, and tears welled up as she said, "...sometimes, I'm sad."  I tried, hard, not to crumble along side of her.  I could just feel her pain, seeping out from behind the the crooked smile and weary eyes.  Grateful for her beautifully open, flowing heart and awed by her amazing courage, I managed to look into her eyes and say to her, "Thank you so much for sharing that with me.  I'm going to do a dance for you now, inspired by what you have told me about how you feel when you are in your favorite room." 

Choked up, I stepped back, closed my eyes, and slowly... carefully...gently... danced for her.  

What a powerful, humbling, human moment.  I'll never forget it.

These two dynamic worlds that I often live in continue to surprise me with their intersections, collisions, and organic comparisons.  Social work is some of the most gritty, human, work there is. It is raw.  It is exuberant, when people overcome their adversities and succeed or heal.  It is natural that life will ebb and flow; the traumatic and the joyful, the contentment and the struggle, the peace and the sadness.  Dance is an amazing vessel to hold and release our experiences, thoughts, and feelings from the inside out.  A negotiation of time, space, and emotional content/response.   

All things considered, dance and social work aren't so different after all.