Trust. An essential part of our dance style. Honestly, it’s more like the scaffolding. We have to trust that our lead dancer is going to cue movements we know and feel comfortable dancing. We have to trust that the dancers following us when we’re leading are going to do the movements we cue, even though we can’t see whether they are or not. When we fade, we have to trust that the other dancers are moving too so we don’t have to travel too far. One of the hardest things in FC for me, for the longest time, was power duets. I had to remind myself constantly that I need only take small steps, because my partner is also going to take small steps, and our combined small steps will get us where we’re going. I had to remind myself that if my brain freezes and I can’t think of a move, my partner has my back. And we have to trust ourselves—trust that our bodies remember the movements, trust that our practice will empower our performances, trust that we know what we’re doing. A lack of trust is so much the source of dance-related anxiety. And I realized today, that same lack of trust is the birthplace of so much of my anxiety in 2025, in life as an American citizen.

As the new year begins, talk of “resolutions” is everywhere. We’re dreaming big, and (hopefully!) we’re mapping out the steps we need to take to achieve our goals. I’ll be the first to endorse having an actionable plan, but it’s equally vital to leave room for the unexpected—to embrace flexibility and allow our goals to evolve. As they say, “life happens.” Sometimes changes require us to alter our intentions. And sometimes meaningful ideas emerge after January 1. The idea of holding space for planning and adaptability is reflected in dance, especially in improv. In FCBD, we practice our movements, transitions, and formations, but we also cultivate the ability to adapt in the moment—to respond to the music, the space, and each other with creativity and grace. What if we approached our goals and intentions the same way?

It’s almost the autumn equinox (here in the northern hemisphere), a time of seasonal equilibrium when day and night are equal before the nights get longer and the days grow shorter. Personally, I like to mark the autumn equinox in several ways. I decorate with bits of nature I find in my yard and on hikes. I make a small bonfire and journal about gratitude for the shifting seasons and accepting earth’s invitation to slow down. Without the slower, colder months, we may be prone to stay constantly active. It takes rest to have energy for work; it takes introspection to interact well externally with the world around us. In dance, balance is just as vital...