ARTIST LETTER NO. 17
When Your Body Asks You to Downshift
Why listening is wise, not lazy.
Hi there,
Earlier this week, I sat in a café with someone I hadn't seen in years.
She used to come to my studio regularly for meditation and dance, and life slowly pulled her in other directions. Work, pregnancy, parenting, the thousand responsibilities that accumulate almost without us noticing.
We only meant to catch up briefly. But we ended up having one of those rare, unhurried conversations where time actually stretches out instead of collapsing in on itself.
No phones on the table. No rushing. Just two people, actually present with each other.
By the time we left, something in my system had taken a full breath. And it struck me how unusual that kind of spaciousness has become — and how my body had been asking for it long before I listened.
The pace most of us live at now is so constant that we stop questioning it.
There's always something to respond to, something to plan, something to improve. Even when we're technically "resting," we're often still taking in more stimulation.
For me, it showed up this week as a kind of heaviness. Not dramatic, just a steady fog and a body that wasn't interested in keeping up with my calendar.
My first impulse was familiar: push through, try harder.
But underneath that was something quieter and more truthful:
Slow down. I need a different rhythm.
Your body is often ahead of your mind.
It notices when there's too much coming in. It registers the strain of constant motion. It keeps track of the moments you forced yourself to continue when you were already at capacity.
Heaviness. Fog. Irritation. The sudden desire to lie down and not get back up right away.
We're taught to interpret those signals as weakness. But what if they're actually information? What if your body is asking you to choose a pace you can sustainably inhabit?
As a dancer, I know what happens when I force my body through choreography at full speed before I'm ready. I can make it happen, but the quality suffers. My breathing gets shallow. I lose the nuance that makes movement art instead of repetition.
When I slow the phrase down and let it land, something different becomes possible.
Life isn't that different.
If everything feels louder lately, or you're more tired than you "should" be, consider this a gentle nudge to listen.
Is there one place you could ease the pressure?
One conversation that would nourish you more than another hour of scrolling?
One way to make a little more room for yourself in your own life?
Your system is allowed to ask for a different tempo.
With love,
Kristen
The Dance Alchemist
P.S. What does downshifting look like for you right now? Hit reply if you'd like to share.