"Viscera" show, audio transcription
Section 1- “Cervical spine”
Seven vertebrae
labeled C one through C seven
stack on top of each other, forming the cervical spine
the suboccipital cervical spine consists of the two top vertebrae,
including C one, which is called the Atlas.
It does not have the typical shape of the other cervical vertebrae
and is a bony ring that carries the weight of the skull and supports the head.
C two, which is called the axis, is shaped more like typical cervical vertebrae
with a bony projection that connects with the Atlas to create a pivot point.
It's between these two vertebrae, that rotation of the head happens,
or how you nod your head to say yes or turn your head to say no.
C3 through C seven make up the remainder of the cervical spine.
In your cervical spine are six discs that sit between each vertebrae and act as shock absorbers, allowing you to flex and rotate your head with more ease.
These discs are made of a tough outer ring, like a thick rubber band,
and a gel like core,
supple and fluid,
like the flesh of ripe fruit.
when you bend, these discs compress with the gel inside shifting like toothpaste in a tube. If the outer layer tears under pressure, this gel can bulge out,
pressing on nearby nerves and causing what's called a disc bulge or herniation or slipped disc.
I was diagnosed with two herniated discs in my neck in 2022.
It's hard to pinpoint whether the injury came from a single event
or is the result of the series of whiplash injuries
that I've experienced throughout my dance career.
Regardless,
these disc herniations have impacted every aspect of my life and the way that I dance.
Turns out your neck affects not just the movement of your head, but your shoulders and arms,
and even how you hold yourself up in general.
Since the diagnosis,
I've been trying to understand the root of my chronic pain
and why I sometimes wake up not being able to move my neck
or how I can stop the tingling in my fingertips that feels like buzzing insects have made their home inside of my hands.
I'm still searching for answers, but. I found some comfort in the process of learning more about the body.
Yes, it's fragility, but also it's resilience.
Section 2 “Erin’s experiences (on injury and recovery)”
And I was in recovery for,
honestly, I still feel like I'm in recovery.
I feel like I never really recovered from it.
And that surgery was, um, I think four years ago now.
During my recovery time, it was four weeks of no walking at all,
so I was pretty much bedridden,
which as a dancer can be really debilitating on your mental health because we are drawn to dance because we like to move.
Even though I have recovered and come a long way, I'm still not the same dancer I was, and I still experience a lot of pain.
A lot of days now are good, but then I have some days where I have a limp and a lot of mornings I wake up with it taking about 10 to 20 minutes for me to walk properly because my ankle is so stiff.
and so, that was initially really disheartening,
but knowing that I had gone through all this
and waited this long with this much hope only to have it dashed because I'm still in pain, we're at the eight week mark. What do you mean I can't walk right now?
To months later still having days where it's difficult for me to walk.
Um, to years later where I'm struggling dancing and accepting work as a dancer because I'm still in pain and I don't.
It's just so unpredictable what type of movement I'm going to be able to do on a day-to-day basis that I feel uncomfortable committing to anything.
Not having that confidence in my ability as a dancer definitely didn't help me have an outlet for all the instability and things that were happening in my life at the time.
Um, 'cause dance was a constant and then all of a sudden it wasn't. Yeah, I went through a little depressive period.
And then I went through a period of, um, rediscovery and I started to rediscover what my body could do. Um, it wasn't that I couldn't dance anymore, it was just that now I dance differently.
And so I had to learn how to appreciate what my body can do for me now, and also in comparison to what I couldn't do even a year ago, two years ago versus comparing myself to the dancer that I was, and then I was able to find some peace in that, in thinking about my evolution through my pain or through my recovery.
And that was also reaffirming in my journey to accepting where I am now and accepting that it's different versus less.
Section 3 “Meg’s experiences (on injury and recovery)”
I still, I still have an emotional response thinking about the actual event and the um, you know, the aftermath.
Um, and I think it speaks to when it happened and my, the age I was, because I expected of myself just to get over it.
But just, you know, sometimes I'll just remember all of a sudden and just be like, oh my God, I can't believe that.
I can't believe that happened.
And so, I mean, there's like a lot of emotion in that too, going from, you know, really in great shape and really ready to dance and..
And I, I really felt like
you know man things are really getting going for me.
The most important thing supposed to be on stage and was to be dancing, and all energy needed to be given to that
instead of, I need to allocate some of my physical energy to cross train and to, you know, take time to find other outlets that are gonna support my practice, as opposed to just doing the thing really well.
Gratitude. I have a lot of gratitude for that happening, happening to me when it did.
I think it kind of colors a little bit of, you know, our bodies in some way that makes them. You know, it gives them some kind of a texture and density and things to hold onto. It's kind of like still, you know, it's kinda like carving a rock or something.
So there's something that makes it, um, yeah, it makes it different and that about injury and then recovery. Um, and I also think about when you talked, asked about how it affects also like long term mentally.
Though I am, and I'm interested in what other folks have said, but I mean, I still, I still have an emotional response thinking about the actual event.
Section 4 “The scapula”
Imagine your shoulder blade,
which is also called your scapula.
This sleek triangular bone
that rests gracefully against the back of your ribs.
It is not a passive structure,
It's like the anchor of your shoulder,
connecting muscles that control your shoulders movement.
The scapula has a shallow socket
where your upper arm bone
called the humerus
fits in,
allowing it to glide smoothly and move in multiple directions.
Your scapula can elevate
lifting your arm in that upward motion
or depress lowering it with ease.
It can abduct, sweeping your arm away from the body
and adduct drawing it in closely.
And not forgetting its ability to rotate,
shifting the shoulder into an upward or downward position. Creating a fluid range of motion
that lets you reach, throw, or lift with precision.
Most dancers and hypermobile people have winged scapula shoulder blades that lift away from the back.
In my case, it's unclear which came first:
my unstable scapula, that wing
and live in that position or my hypermobile neck,
do they feed each other or dance together in dysfunction?
Section 5 “AK’s experiences (on internalized ableism)”
It's definitely hard to feel like, okay,
I'm having to work three times as hard in rehearsal.
My body's working three times as hard just to keep itself upright, you know?
Um, it's, it's hard mentally and physically, I guess.
Just know that you have to do more and try harder,
um, put your body through more
in order to do the same thing that other people can do.
There's definitely like a reckoning between your values
and what you still, on a very core level hold yourself to,
that I find I often come up against when thinking about ableism and like body, the way we view bodies in dance,
both of those things,
I feel like there can be a huge dissonance between
what I believe to be like true and right and good,
and like what my brain is conditioned to still
like make judgements about when it comes to myself.
As a teenager at a very, like black and white mindset
and dance and ballet specifically can be very, like all or nothing, black and white. Like you're good or you're not, or you know, and I, to me, it in that moment, it felt as simple as like, well, my body can't do what it was doing, therefore it's not gonna be able to,
like, my back can't bend all the way back.
Like, why would I keep doing ballet,
which is not the energy I want to like encourage in the dance space and also it's definitely something that I'm sure all of us have experienced.
Waking up from my spinal fusion coming out of a surgery that long and intense is just surreal.
Like hours ago my skeleton was being rearranged
and now I'm relearning to walk and taking my first steps in this new body with this new instrument.
Um, if as dancers we consider our body our instrument
within what feels like a moment of sleep,
I am working with an entirely different instrument.
Um, and it, it takes a full year to even get to know that instrument and get back to basics with it.
Not returning to dance in that like new body and new self like really contributed to like a continuing to grow like out of touch with my body, um, in ways that had like a ripple effect of, um, on my mental health.
Yeah, I just think dance has such a healing effect on the brain and the body when you're able to access spaces and people who approach it, like from a place of care.
When I'm actually dancing and I look over and we're all just like
We are both doing our jobs and having like a wonderful time
and like this is the greatest gift in the world, you know?
Um, and that in and of itself is motivating enough to keep going as long as I can.
Section 6 “Kendall’s experiences (on mental health informing performance)”
My neuro divergent ness, which I don't think is a word, uh, really makes it so that my mind is scattered, Like it's just, uh, loud at all times of the day no matter what is going on. So there's constant conversation going on in here about things that don't even have anything to do with what's happening in the present moment.
Um, but just things that I may be thinking about.
So for me, meditation is a thing that I absolutely need to do.
When it's like, oh my God, I can't even think straight. I absolutely need it. And for me, sometimes it's not just sitting down in just silence because again, my mind is a little too loud.
Sometimes I need guided meditation. Sometimes I need to know that this isn't gonna take forever, so that my mind doesn't wander or feel like I don't have time for it.
All of those things help me to have a good sense of self before I perform or dance, or do the best that I can, or else I'll feel like I'm starting from a clouded mind.
Yes, I think it can be really nerve wracking, um, depending on the state of mind that you're in.
And I think that it's, it's a lot of depending on the state of mind and the state of your body too,
because if they're not in sync,
which happens sometimes,
sometimes your mind just literally is not in it that day
or your body just doesn't feel as good that day
as it felt the last time you did it.
Uh, you really have to prepare for those type of scenarios
to figure out and navigate how you're going to still give the best performance you can possibly give.
And I think that it goes back to meditation as a matter of just trying to sync up with yourself as much as possible
and having just a real conversation with yourself.
Like, okay, this is gonna work for me today, or this is not gonna work for me today. What can I do to mediate that, get around, get around that, and still do the best that I can?
Section 7, “Ribs” - no audio
Section 8, “Julie’s experiences” (on aging in dance culture)
As dancers because we spend so much time
preparing for this dream of performing or choreographing, whatever it may be.
Um, it becomes our identity,
It becomes really, uh, central to how we live our lives.
And then to have such a short career,
what are we supposed to do after?
Um, there's, it's such a huge part of who I am.
Um. That. It's interesting that our culture expects us to kind of let that go at a certain point,
and we retire from our careers at such a young age when we have so much, uh time and effort that we have put into that for our lives.
It brings up the question of how can artists sustain themselves over a long period of time, and then how can society also support artists? In being able to have lifelong careers
because there's a lot of people that want to have a lifelong career in dance, whatever that may be.
I know I do.
Once you’re past the post-college days,
there's really not as much support.
There's not even really support immediately after college.
You do really just have to kind of figure it out,
but especially once you're a couple years into it, there's not as much support in um, finding your, your path.
A lot of it really is in dance, kind of figuring out yourself.
There's no one right way to do it.
And so I would always hear
being around other dancers who are also getting older.
You'd hear again, the, once you hit 30, everything's gonna go downhill. Enjoy it while you can.
Everybody loves to say that to dancers and just to people in general. So that's definitely where I started to feel that.
Um. And I think there was, I, I have seen some different dance companies, for example, that will have age limits on, you know, who they'll accept to be a part of the company.
And once I like surpassed that age, I was like, uh oh, that's not great. That's not a good feeling.
And why does, why does that age even, why is that even relevant to be a performer? Especially when I'm still in my twenties, you know? Sometimes the age limit might be something like 23 or 24, and that's, that's just getting started.
That's just getting started.
Section 9, “Hiroko’s experiences” (on ability and ableism)
Last year I was really like, I need to get back at it. I need to do it. One of those things where you're like,
well, I could wait for my body to look maybe kind of how it used to look. You know, when were 27 or 26, it's dumb.
That's dumb as shit.
What are you talking about?
Um, or. I could just start now.
I saw the opportunity to build back to something.
And I knew that like time was so fleeting and it's so precious and I couldn't wait any longer and it was more worth doing something, even if I'm not doing it to the ability that I want, right?
Or like the expectation that I have of myself to be a certain way,
to have a certain skill level that it was imperative
or to like look a certain way.
And I think like going back to dancing now,
it's like
I remember the sensation.
I have it in my head.
I remember being able to do these things
and now I can't do them.
And it's like, it's like a ghost where you're like, wait a minute.
Like I could close my eyes and I picture it.
And I vividly remember being able to do something.
And now I can't actually physicalize it.
And so like there's just like that big gap and you're like,
what are you supposed to do? How do you get back to it?
I'm just trying to like,
go slowly, understand, give myself some grace.
And it's like, I remember what it feels like.
I remember what it feels like, right to swim in the deep end like it's there. I remember being able to pick up choreography so fast and it be so embodied and then you're just frustrated.
I wanna prioritize this thing that was me.
We've set up and we've like held up right a dance form
in concert Western dance as a form.
It's extra, it’s extractive, it extracts. It is capitalistic within its structure and within its ideologies that it holds up like, and we should be the ones to deconstruct that because
we're the ones at stake.
Your body in a space however it might look, is deeply radical.
Section 10, “Satisfying, somatic experiences in performance”
What are some satisfying somatic sensations that you've experienced in a performance?
but you know, when they say it is like a string pulling your toe to stay up, it literally felt like that. I'm like, I can literally stay here. I can stay here. And it feels great.
When I feel really, dropped into myself and the movement,
very connected to the movement, connected to the audience,
I'll kind of have this moment of, oh my gosh, I'm dancing and I can. I can feel myself get chills. That's always really satisfying.
I mean, it was just one of those like magic moments where you're on balance, like you're just stretching to the end of time.
You know? I just, I don't think I could have felt, I don't think I have ever felt more expansive in my life than in that moment.
And I enjoy the release of just being able to move my body in a rhythmic manner.
It is fun, it is enjoyable, and it's not overly complicated.
Silence and just like breath.
But when they, when they are there, it can feel so exhilarating. And just to actually exhale, it's just like, wow.
It’s so crazy to be so in sync with a person to have the same,
you know, you're breathing at the same time.
I love when I do a big slide across the floor and you can just, you're, you're like going, it feels like you're going so fast and you can feel all of your skin, you know, sliding across.
It's really satisfying.
I think music is a big factor, but also like being with a group of people that agree to be in the space together.
So it's a combination of like having this vibration of sound and vibration of people.
The adrenaline dump too of performing and the, the exhaustion afterward and that feeling of like bliss right after.
Section 11, “Meaghan’s experiences (on chronic pain and disability)”
I've been living with chronic neck pain for about five years now. It started with a fall during rehearsal, a lift went wrong and I hit the floor, head first. My neck hasn't felt right since.
But it wasn't until a re-injury in 2022,
that it turned into something I live with every single day.
Most days it's a steady, frustrating ache.
Always there, but manageable.
Other days I'm stuck in bed,
unable to turn my head without a sharp shooting, pain,
stopping me in my tracks.
As a dancer, that shift has been hard to accept.
It's disheartening to feel so limited in a body that felt
at one time, so strong, capable.
To now need help with everyday tasks that used to be second nature.
That kind of dependence even on people I trust can be difficult to sit with.
On the outside I look fine,
which makes it so much easier to hide,
but also harder to be understood.
I still wrestle with this internalized shame
and a voice that says I should be able to do more,
be more, that I should have bounced back by now.
Sometimes I stay quiet about the pain, even to my own partner,\ to my family, to my friends, not because it's gone,
but because I don't want to be met with any more advice
or what I perceive as judgment.
Even the well-meaning kind, can feel like a reminder that maybe I'm not doing enough?
But I've been in physical therapy for three years now,
I've seen multiple doctors, physical therapists, chiropractors, massage therapists, you name it.
I've tried just about everything.
I spend hours each day doing what I can to help myself heal.
I am trying. I'm still trying.
But I'm also learning that this might be my new normal
and for my own mental health, I need to accept that maybe the goal isn't to be fixed completely,
to fix myself, but to adjust, to create space for this version of me, to ask others to do the same.
Because healing doesn't always mean going back to what we once had, but trying to find a way forward.
Section 12, “How has your definition of success in dance changed as you age?”
A lot of my dance career has been plagued with this internal kind of delusional motivation that I have something to prove, like I need to prove something,
and that has shifted more in the past few years into, um,
I have something to offer.
You know, what do I have to share?
Not so much. What do I have to prove?
Um, what do I have to share?
And that's, that feels a lot better, I have to say. Um.
I mean, I do feel like, like a success sometimes, and sometimes it's like I don't really know.
And then what is that? Because yeah.
I think also in our field we fail so many times, for the most part that it's hard for us, or at least for me, to really define success and I would say maybe the question that I'm having, it's like, am I at least happy?
The answer is for now. Yeah. Yeah.
My hope is that I, I keep going and I discover more things about myself and, you know, maybe new things to enjoy later on in life. So this sense that, you know, I have to stop performing at a certain age or I have to stop dancing or moving or
it just doesn’t, it, I can’t fathom it?
I get on a certain level that there's a fear that I won't be able to do certain things when I'm older, but I don't know if, I don't,
I think that fear is in some way trumped by this idea that I'm,
I've gained so much more knowledge about myself and the world that, you know, who knows what the facility will be,
but maybe I'll have a better way of, of using the facility that I have when I get there, because of the knowledge that I have,
because of the, the openness that I have.
There is nothing to compare to that joy, and it can be found in a lot fewer moments now, but it can certainly, certainly be found. And is it worth it?
Yes, yes it is worth it. It is worth it. Yeah.