Last summer, I had the amazing opportunity to take salsa
lessons from Maria Moreras, a professional dancer by way of
New York. Our lessons were focused on body movement. As I
watched her body and tried to mimic her movement, Maria
moved my body into a position that it had never been in
before. I felt an opening and release, and the words fell out “I
didn’t know.” Maria then went on to talk about the body and
how we have self-perceived limits on what we are capable of.
She explained that our bodies have a memory, and when we
move and push ourselves past these perceived limits, we can
move more expansively and freely. Our body remembers that
we can go beyond what we did before.
After this experience, I kept thinking about her words and
the feeling I had when my body opened up. I thought about
the phrase, “The body has a memory.” In ceramics, we often
refer to clay as a “clay body.” Clay also has a memory. In my
practice, I’m always trying to push the limits of clay. It’s in that
space of being on the edge, possibly breaking but just as
possibly transforming, that my creativity lives.
Sometimes in life, we need someone or something to take
us to that edge to show us what is possible when we step
beyond our perceived limits. Maria’s hands and wise words
moved me beyond my perceived limits. People, experiences,
art—these things influence us. They mold us, push us, and
even break us at times. We can try to be immovable, and put
up walls and limits. Or we can brave the tide of life, allowing it
to influence and move us. We can dare to see what is possible
just beyond the mark.