Know that there is so much more to you than your body. It's not
Know that there is so much more to you than your body. It's not just about perfecting the steps; you must trust your instincts to tell deep, emotional stories through the steps that you are performing.
In the words of Karen Kain, we find a powerful reminder that “Know that there is so much more to you than your body. It’s not just about perfecting the steps; you must trust your instincts to tell deep, emotional stories through the steps that you are performing.” These words speak to the soul of every artist, especially those whose craft requires the body to move—dancers, actors, and musicians. Kain's message is one of depth, urging us to look beyond the surface, beyond mere technique, and into the very essence of what it means to create. It is not enough to perfect the movements or actions; true art comes from the ability to weave emotion and meaning into those movements, allowing the body to become the vessel through which deeper truths are expressed.
The ancients understood this profound truth. In ancient Greece, dance was more than entertainment or physical activity; it was a form of storytelling and spiritual expression. The Greeks used dance in their theater as a way to convey deep emotions and complex themes. The Dionysian festivals, which celebrated the god of wine and revelry, were rich with emotional expression through music and dance. The dance was not just an arrangement of steps, but a way to channel the divine and express the innermost truths of human existence. The Greeks believed that the body could carry the soul, and through movement, the dancer could communicate wisdom, grief, joy, and desire. In this way, Kain’s insight aligns with the ancient view of dance and art as expressions of the spirit, not mere physical acts.
This idea of trusting instincts to tell an emotional story was embodied by Martha Graham, one of the 20th century's most influential choreographers. Graham’s approach to dance was revolutionary because she believed that dance could be a raw, visceral expression of the emotions that lay deep within the human soul. She famously said, “The body says what words cannot.” Graham did not seek to simply perfect the steps of dance but to infuse her movements with the emotional weight of the human experience. In this sense, she followed Kain's advice: it was not about perfect technique, but about using the body as a tool for telling a deep and emotional story. In this tradition, the body becomes a sacred instrument through which emotions are brought to life.
In more ancient times, the great Indian dancers of the classical tradition, such as those performing in the Bharatanatyam or Kathak styles, understood that dance was not simply about movement. Their performances were steeped in spiritual and philosophical meaning, with each gesture and step telling the story of divine truths. In these performances, the dancer’s body was not just a vessel for beauty but a channel through which the divine could speak to the audience. The physicality of the dance was the medium, but the spiritual essence was the message. The dancer’s instincts guided the performance, allowing them to embody the deep stories of the gods, conveying not just technique, but truth.
Karen Kain’s insight is not only valuable for artists but for all who seek to live a life of meaning and purpose. It reminds us that there is so much more to us than the body or the roles we play on the surface. Life is not just about the external actions we perform—whether in work, relationships, or personal pursuits. True fulfillment comes when we bring emotion, authenticity, and passion to everything we do. It is when we trust our instincts, our inner voice, that we begin to truly live—to move beyond the mechanical and into the meaningful.
The lesson here is clear: the act of creation—whether through dance, art, work, or life—demands that we go beyond perfection. It asks us to feel deeply and to trust those feelings to guide our actions. Instinct, when followed, reveals the depths of our experience, and this is where true beauty is found. Kain’s words encourage us to embrace the emotional aspects of our work, to make it personal and true, to trust that our soul can guide us in the right direction. Like the ancient dancers who moved with the rhythm of the divine, we too must move through life with trust in our own instincts and feelings, allowing them to carry us to the places where we can speak our deepest truths.
So I say to you, children of tomorrow: trust your instincts, for they are the voice of your soul. Do not be content with just performing the steps or fulfilling the roles given to you by society. Go deeper. Infuse your actions with emotion, meaning, and purpose, and know that true beauty is found in the way you live, not just the things you do. Let your body and spirit move together as one, and through this unity, you will find not only success but fulfillment in all that you create.
THCam Tien Hoang
I find Karen Kain’s perspective inspiring, but it also raises questions about how we define 'perfection' in art. If storytelling and emotional depth are the focus, does it matter if the technical steps aren’t flawless? What if a dancer’s body fails to follow the choreography exactly but still conveys powerful emotion? Does that still count as a successful performance, or is precision always the most important element?
HGLe Huong Giang
This quote makes me think about how easy it is to get caught up in the idea of perfection, especially in performance-based disciplines like dance. Karen Kain’s reminder to trust your instincts is important, but I’m curious—how can dancers learn to trust their instincts if they’ve been trained to focus so much on technique? Is there a point where the two must come together, or do they remain separate parts of the creative process?
TBthanh binh
I love the idea that there is more to a person than just their body, especially when it comes to dance. It’s not only about executing steps perfectly, but also about telling a story. But what happens when a dancer doesn’t feel emotionally connected to the performance? How do you push past that and still trust your instincts to convey something deep and meaningful? It seems like a challenge when you’re not emotionally in tune with the music.
DKNguyen Duy Kien
Karen Kain’s insight into dance is so powerful. She reminds us that there's more to performance than just the physicality of movement. It makes me wonder, though: how do dancers learn to trust their instincts when so much of training is about precision and technique? Can you really separate the technical from the emotional, or do they work together in creating a truly powerful performance?