pole dancing for yr health / adult beginners
just got back from taking my first weekend dance class in… ever? grabbed myself an iced latte on the way home, as one does when they’ve done something hard on a saturday morning. this class is new on the schedule and focused mostly on body waves and hip mobility; my muscles and joints are happy.
it helps that the instructor is one of my faves. she’s the studio owner and taught my first class ever – a bunch of women dancing in a dark room to tsar b’s escalate blasting through a massive subwoofer was a spiritual experience.
it took a long time to afford consistent classes, but i have been back for three years, am coming up on a year of teaching, and am planning a trip for my next certification.
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when i signed up for pole dancing, i wasn’t actually that interested. what i wanted to try was an adult tumbling class, but the closest we have to that in our area is circus training – which sounds kind of funny when i say it like that, that it’s easier to get into trapeze and clowning classes than to find a gym that doesn’t exclusively cater to children.
it’s frustrating to me how many physical hobbies are inaccessible to adult beginners. gymnastics, cheerleading, ballet, figure skating. maybe i want to try synchronized swimming!
those hobbies aren’t necessarily accessible to kids and families either; even school or community sports require for gear, fees, etc. but i think it’s wild that i can’t spend my grownup money on a class that will teach me how to safely do a back handspring because i’m not five. one hour a week on a springy floor is all i want!
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when you walk into your first pole class at a (good) studio, the assumption is that you’ve never seen a pole, touched your toes, or done any cardio or dance in your life.
it is very awkward at first. you realize how stiff your body is, that there are parts of yourself that you forgot can move. you practice looking alluring in the mirror; it doesn’t work. as you learn moves on the pole, your flesh pulls in painful, unflattering ways.
but after a few weeks or months or years, it gets better: you start to hear the signals in your body, and can actually understand what this or that feeling means – which parts of you need to move. you learn to trust your ability to translate those feelings in real-time. it matters less and less what you look like, because not even you are watching; you learn to close your eyes and follow your weight where it wants to go.
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being able to hear my body more effectively has helped me listen to it more compassionately.
i’ve been really antsy lately. i’m busy this month with a lot of things i don’t want to do but can’t back out of. so i rolled around on the studio floor about it for two hours yesterday. and was back at it again today.
a lot of building a consistent movement practice is learning to – and then having to – go, “here, damn,” to your body more often than you want.
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movement is articulation too.