Are you autistic?
Very likely, you’re not.
You are – most likely – professionally successful, emotionally mature, socially well-integrated, and a fully responsive and responsible member of society.
Also – very likely – you are performance-driven; a high-achiever in every respect.
This may be the problem.
We May As Well Have Been Giving Powerpoint(TM) Presentations
In a recent dance show, one of several put on by leading teachers here in Northern Virginia, I thought sadly to myself, “We may as well have been giving Powerpoint(TM) presentations.”
What was going on?
Well, each dancer was delivering her choreography step-perfect. She did the right moves, right sequence, right timing and tempo.
There were even some efforts towards the higher aspects of choreography; tempo variations, level changes, technique combinations and different kinds of movement across the stage, and good use of props.
Yet I was bored. I felt stilted and stultified. And, I suspect, many of the dancers themselves felt stilted and stultified.
Probably way too many of them felt as though they were stuck in a box – and had no idea of how to get out.
But “getting out of the box” is – most likely – precisely why they first started their passionate study of Oriental dance, or – as we often call it – belly dance.
They wanted to be in touch with that luscious, passionate, emotionally-expressive creature that they knew lurked inside their corporate suit.
Yet here they each were – counting out the steps, and trying desperately to remember what step came next.
What Do We Really Want When We Study Oriental Dance?
Years ago, my dear friend Stella Grey described Oriental dance:
I believe that the dance is at its best when it is a spontaneous three-way conversation … among the musicians, the dancer and audience. The dancer makes the music visible to the audience, the audience’s appreciation is heightened and feeds back to the musicians. [from a blog series originally published by Stella Grey, and now removed from the internet; this quote was captured and reproduced in Unveiling: The Inner Journey, p. 178.]
The key words are “spontaneous” and “conversation.”
A rehearsed set-piece is neither spontaneous nor conversational. No matter how brilliant in concept and execution, it is a monologue. And don’t we tend to avoid those who have much to say, but never an ear to hear?
What we really desire – when we do Oriental dance – goes even deeper as a conversation.
Ultimately, we desire to have this “conversation” with ourselves.
In particular, we’re seeking to give voice to that aspect of who-we-are whom we so often stifle, because our day-to-day survival considerations often require that we wrap our heads around Powerpoint(TM) presentations.
I’m joking.
No, I’m not.
We are collectively – especially those of us in Northern Virginia and the Metro DC area – way too involved with our cognitive, task-oriented, high-performance selves. We find it difficult to let go.
More than that, we find it difficult to find a pathway or mechanism by which we can let go.
Obviously, most of us are not doing it through dance – or at least not in the way in which we’re being taught to dance.
We envision any kind of performance as something that must be carefully scripted. Spontaneity – improvisation – seems terrifying. We apply the same control to our dance as we do to our professional presentations, and wonder why we’re not getting the emotional release that we truly desire.
That’s why the introductory sentence given by the author of a book about helping autistic children caught my attention so strongly.
Meaning from Movement
Dr. Geoffrey Waldon, famous for the Waldon Approach to helping autistic children develop fully functional and normal lives, has developed a protocol based around a core concept:
Meaning [comes] from movement.
In the Waldon Approach, an autistic child is guided by his or her therapist in an asocial manner. The therapist is behind the child, and moves the child’s limbs to help that child perform the kinds of movement patterns that lead to certain levels of cognitive development.
It works.
In “Autism and Understanding,” author Walter Solomon (along with co-authors Chris Holland and Mary Jo Middleton) vividly portrays the challenges – and the potential way forward – for helping an autistic child. This book was inspired when Mr. Solomon’s own autistic son, Robert, was significantly helped through the protocols developed by Dr. Geoffrey Waldon.
I was initially intrigued by the book’s intellectual premise, and then had an opportunity to hear both Walter and Robert speak at a book signing for Walter Solomon’s Autism and Understanding. Their story was moving and eloquent. Robert, in particular, was inspiring – he holds down a professional job and is happily married. His ability to lead a successful life in mainstream society bears tribute to the Waldon Approach’s effectiveness.
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The phrase, “meaning comes from movement,” is foundational to the Waldon Approach – and is now being found relevant to other forms of learning and creative expression. This premise also underlies the importance of early mother-child play; particularly play that involves moving with the child.
Waldon’s unique insight that motor facilitation should be “asocial” is pivotal to this entire approach; this is something that is a bit novel to those of us who think that talking something through or giving verbal and visual feedback are essential to learning. Instead, this offers a radically different – yet extremely effective – approach.
On a more personal note, I am excited about applying some insights gained from this book – very indirectly – to working with adult dance students. Although I have a long-term interest in the brain and in neurophysiology (my first book, the Handbook of Neural Computing Applications, Academic, 1981, built on that interest), it is not the research represented here that intrigues me as much as the potential for using these insights in a practical way with people who are already very functional – and typically highly-qualified professionals with full and active social lives. It is these people who may benefit from a more holistic approach to dance that helps them reconnect with early childhood experiences. This may potentially lead to a less intellectual, and more spontaneous and playful self-expression through dance.
If this proves to be useful at all, then Dr. Waldon’s work will have influenced far more than the community helping those afflicted with autism. Further, Mr. Solomon’s work, together with his co-authors, will have brought a great deal of insight and understanding – a possible avenue for greater personal integration and healing – to a wider audience.
Those of you who study with me throughout the coming year may find us doing unusual movements to help break through our usual cognitive mindsets, and access a more primitive (and possibly more playful and self-aware) aspect of ourselves.
If you’re a dance teacher and you’ve signed up to receive emails from me, I’ll share with you in these emails how these “experiments” are coming along – and pass on to you what works, and what doesn’t.
For all of us – one of the best things that we can do is to temporarily forego choreography, and seek to access the more feeling and expressive side of who we are – to take time to play with dance.
Which is why I’ll close with you for now, and go head off for some dance play!
yours in dance – Alay’nya