ARTIST LETTER NO. 26
The Paradox of Surrender
What happened when I gave up trying to see.
I've been in the studio all week.
The solo is taking shape. "Broken," the reimagined opening of my Mapping the Heart project, is coming into form for the November 1st performance at the Ailey Citigroup Theater.
But the process has been teaching me something I want to share.
Last week I wrote about resistance. The quiet kind that shows up alongside desire. The procrastination, the forgetting, the "I'll get to it tomorrow."
This week, I want to share what happened when I moved through it.
As I've mentioned before, when I listen to Steve Roach's music, especially live, I can see the choreography in my mind's eye. Images arrive. Movement surfaces. It comes through me, not from me.
But with this solo, that wasn't happening.
Every time I sat down to envision the choreography, I either saw nothing or my inner voice would immediately start talking. Trying to control. Trying to figure it out.
And then frustration. Blank walls. None of the magic I was after.
Here's what I realized:
The more I wanted it, the more I pursued it, the more I tried to will it into being, the more resistance I created.
It was like putting up a barrier between me and the very thing I was reaching for.
The forcing wasn't drawing it closer. It was pushing it away.
So I tried something different.
I sat in meditation with the music playing. Eyes closed. And I gave up.
Not dramatically. Just quietly. I released any intention to see something. Any expectation of figuring anything out. I made it a throwaway endeavor. Nothing needed to happen.
I was simply listening.
And then images began to surface.
Not premeditated. Not controlled. Not from my ego mind.
From somewhere else. Something greater.
This is the paradox of surrender.
We think that if we just grip tighter, push harder, force more, we'll finally get what we want.
But sometimes the opposite is true.
Sometimes loosening the grip is what allows the thing to arrive.
Like an elusive butterfly. Chase it and it flies away. Sit still, open your hand, and it might just land. Without you doing anything at all.
I'm not saying effort doesn't matter. It does. This solo is requiring hours of work, refinement, rehearsal.
But the source of the work, the images, the knowing, the movement that feels true, that didn't come through force.
It came through surrender.
I share this because I wonder if there's somewhere in your life where you've been gripping tightly.
A desire. A dream. An outcome you want so badly you can taste it.
What would happen if you loosened your hold? Just a little.
Not giving up. Just letting go of the insistence.
Creating a quiet space where something greater might land.
With love,
Kristen
The Dance Alchemist
PS. The solo is coming. November 1st, 7pm, Ailey Citigroup Theater in NYC. I'd love to see you there. Only a few tickets left in my block. This show always sells out. Grab yours here →