A Game of Give and Take
Yoga has been a key part of my practice since early last year, and an element that has always resonated with me is the idea of ‘apana’ versus ‘prana’. ‘Prana’ is the idea of pulling up from the ground, whereas ‘apana’ is the concept of releasing into the earth. From these ideas I thought about how they could correlate with the idea of using force and almost designing movement as opposed to letting it materialise organically. Perhaps a key example could be when learning a very intricate piece of choreography, or doing a style that we are unfamiliar with. I feel as if I have to force my body and mind to understand and translate the movement, since it feels so alien. On the contrary, if I am learning a piece of choreography that sits well with my movement style or I am partaking in a class in a genre in which I feel confident, less mental and physical force is required and I can trust my body to deliver.
As well as being useful in dance practice, I feel a knowledge of these two forces can also be transferred to learning. In this sense, prana could be linked with learning facts that cannot be deducted, and apana’s equivalent would be using experience and our own knowledge to allow ourselves to come to a natural conclusion surrounding a question or topic. This idea is perhaps echoed by Jennifer A Moon, who states that ‘one of the perceived characteristics of reflective and experiential learning is that they are untaught’[i]. We could even interlink the worlds of dance and learning further, by proposing that when we are using control and muscular force, we are actively engaging in learning something that we would not know otherwise, for example, a particular nuance of a dance technique that must be taught. On the other hand, when working in a style or even a certain environment whilst improvising or working with a choreographer the work of whom we are very familiar with, we can afford to have a less specific focus and allow our knowledge, experience and instinct to carry us through.
Speaking of choreography, this concept of forcing against releasing can also be applied to the choreographic process. Some choreographers have an extremely detailed plan whereas others start from a larger idea and then work inwards through improvisation and exploration. In my opinion both methods have their benefits and drawbacks. Having an meticulous plan is necessary if you wish to tackle an extremely specific topic, especially if that topic needs to be handled with caution and respect. Without a plan, you perhaps run the risk of allowing your own prejudices and preconceptions to seep into the work, as opposed to representing it accurately and neutrally. However, too much restriction can mean that certain choreographic ‘accidents’ are missed; hence you potentially lose improvised moments that are genuine and often more interesting than your original choreography.
To conclude, I believe that both forces are imperative in professional practice. Certain things need to be taught and sometimes you have to fight against your instincts in order to create new movement pathways and improve on your weaker areas. Discomfort is necessary for advancement. The opposing concept of letting go and allowing things to happen naturally works alongside, not against this, by giving the dancer space to use their natural abilities to foster new ones, whilst constantly developing those qualities that come naturally. One thing we have to be aware of is which force we tend to gravitate towards, and monitor that we stay balanced, just as we have to equalise apana and prana during a yoga class.
[i] Moon, Jennifer A. (2004). A Handbook of Reflective and Experiential Learning: Theory and Practice. Taylor & Francis Group.

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