Leaning Forward in Diving & Breakdancing
While the natural reflex is to curl up when exposed to the elements, the proper method would be to lean in. That’s what comes to mind as I think about diving.
Do you know those entry dives where the swimmer has their arms outstretched and legs straight back where they look like a human missile entering the water? I’m talking about that.
I thought I was doing that when I dove. I continued diving the way I thought was right. Then a friend asked me if I was trying to cannonball.
I had my hands together like I wanted to pierce the water. But my legs were curled up so it rather looked like a poorly executed cannonball where I look like I’m curled up into a ball with hands that seem to point downwards like I’m praying to the water.
I thought I looked majestic. But I looked downright foolish. Such was my natural position off the diving board.
I eventually learned to dive into the water properly. It was a completely different feeling where my entire body felt exposed and vulnerable as I stretched out. How would I protect my stomach if I failed and did a belly flop? There was no way to avoid this when attempting a proper dive.
That was how it was. To do something right…I had to be vulnerable. There was no way to get a proper beautiful dive without feeling a little scared.
I had to lean in towards the water instead of shying away from it like my makeshift cannonball position. The principle of “beauty in extension” is applicable in dancing as well.
I was a shy breakdancer throughout high school. It wasn’t until a senior in university taught me to exaggerate the reach of my hands and feet that it started clicking. It wasn’t a matter of “faking it till I made it.” Instead, it was about trusting in what I was doing.
At first, I was shy and it showed in my movements. This made my dancing look timid, weak, and…well…shit. That made my gestures even smaller and the vicious cycle continued. Reverse that and the wider gestures made my moves look half decent. That gave me confidence and the gestures became larger and came the virtuous cycle. Now I looked like a half decent bboy in a cypher.
Such extensions were scary too. I didn’t risk bellyflops but I risked social ridicule. By the standards of modern society, there was a preference for physical pain over societal embarrassment.
When my arms were outstretched and my legs were further out, they were further away from my heart. It didn’t feel as safe. It left me exposed. But that’s what was beautiful.
Nay, it was a requirement to be exposed and vulnerable for any kind of beauty to shine. What was it that Emily Dickinson said?
“Beauty is not caused. It is.”
That is only made evident when it feels a little scary to show it.