What really made me think about space and begin to think about

Hear the words of Merce Cunningham, master of movement and visionary of dance: “What really made me think about space and begin to think about ways to use it was Einstein's statement that there are no fixed points in space. Everything in the universe is moving all the time.” In this saying he reveals how the wisdom of science ignited the flame of art, and how the insight of Einstein—that there is no stillness in the cosmos, no eternal anchor—transformed his understanding of dance. For if all things are in motion, then the dancer too must embrace the truth of ceaseless change, of movement as the very essence of being.

The origin of this quote lies in Cunningham’s creative philosophy, shaped during the twentieth century. He was no ordinary choreographer; he sought to break the bonds of tradition, to set the body free from fixed patterns. When he encountered Einstein’s declaration that there are no fixed points in space, he saw at once a mirror of life itself: nothing stands still, nothing remains. Even stars burn and die, even mountains rise and crumble, even the soul moves in its own unseen dance. From this revelation he built his art, making dance not a series of static poses, but an unfolding journey within the river of time.

The ancients knew this truth well, though in other tongues. Heraclitus declared, “You cannot step into the same river twice,” for the river flows on and the man himself is changed. This is the same wisdom Cunningham embraced: everything in the universe is moving all the time. To live is not to cling, but to flow. To dance is not to freeze the body in perfection, but to release it into the eternal rhythm of becoming. Thus, science and art, philosopher and choreographer, meet in the same revelation.

Consider, too, the story of the sailors who crossed the oceans in the Age of Discovery. They could not fix their course upon a single point of land, for the sea offered no such anchor. Instead, they followed the stars—moving fires in the heavens that themselves wandered in cycles. By learning to navigate motion with motion, they found new worlds. So Cunningham, in his art, abandoned fixed reference points and let his dancers navigate shifting time and shifting space, discovering worlds of movement unseen before.

The emotional power of this saying is in its defiance of the illusion of stillness. Many long for permanence, for a rock that never shifts, for a truth that does not change. But Einstein and Cunningham alike remind us: there is no such rock. The earth spins, the galaxies whirl, the heart beats, the breath flows. To cling to stillness is to fight against the very fabric of reality. But to embrace motion is to live in harmony with the cosmos itself. In dance, as in life, the wisest path is to move with the universe, not against it.

The lesson for us is luminous: do not seek to root yourself in what is unchanging, for such a thing does not exist. Instead, find balance within motion, strength within change, and peace within the flowing of all things. When hardship comes, remember: it too is movement, it too will pass. When joy comes, embrace it fully, for it too is a fleeting dance. Life is not a statue—it is a choreography written in the stars.

So let your practice be this: open your eyes to the dance of the world around you. See how the trees sway, how the tides shift, how the people in your life enter and leave like dancers upon a stage. In your own heart, do not resist change but learn to move with it. Let Cunningham’s wisdom, born of Einstein’s vision, remind you always: there are no fixed points, only the great and endless dance of becoming. To live well is to join it with grace.