Grounding Before Expression
Expression is only as clear as the nervous system beneath it.
Often before performances, takes during filming, or stepping in front of an audience, I still notice familiar sensations.
My breath shortens.
There is tightness in my jaw.
My heart begins to race.
These responses are not weaknesses. They are physiological.
Early in my career, I experienced intense fight, flight, and freeze responses. I remember one time I was in a commercial audition where the task was simple: sit at a table and eat cereal. I knew the material. I felt “fine.” And yet, when the camera rolled, my hand would not stop shaking— like it would literally not stop no matter what I did. My nervous system was in full panic and I could not get the spoon to my mouth steadily.
Needless to say, I did not book that job.
At the time, I interpreted that moment as failure. I felt really bad about myself and disappointed. What I understand now is that my body did not yet know how to feel safe under pressure.
Grounding is the practice of teaching the body safety.
It is daily work. Quiet work. Often unglamorous work.
Through meditation and breath work practices, I began learning how to regulate my nervous system rather than override it. Grounding became less about calming down in the moment and more about rewiring my baseline. When we practice consistently, we are training our system to recognize that visibility does not equal danger.
That training matters.
Auditions, performances, and high-pressure environments will always stimulate adrenaline. The goal is not to eliminate activation. The goal is to remain steady within it.
Grounding reminds the body: you are safe here.
Over time, this practice has also deepened spiritually for me. When I ground myself, I do not just feel calmer. I feel connected — to something larger than my own striving. Call it the divine, source, God, or simply presence. There is a sense that I am supported by something beyond my individual effort.
That connection changes the quality of expression.
When I am grounded, there is more space inside me. My body feels warm. My breath moves freely. There is a quiet knowing that I am exactly where I am meant to be. From that place, expression is not frantic. It is clear.
Many dancers dismiss grounding practices because they do not feel intense. They are not physically exhausting. They do not create the same immediate burn as rigorous technique training.
But subtle does not mean ineffective.
In dance culture, we are conditioned to believe that if we are not pushing, we are falling behind. We equate effort with progress. Yet the nervous system does not respond to force in the same way muscles do. Regulation requires repetition, not aggression.
If the body is bracing, the artistry cannot fully emerge.
Grounding is not passive. It is disciplined. It is the ongoing practice of preparing your instrument — not only physically, but neurologically and spiritually — so that when pressure rises, you remain available.
Before I perform now, I breathe. I soften my jaw. I allow my tongue to rest naturally in my mouth. I feel the weight of my body. I warm up my instrument — joints, muscles, breath, voice.
I do not ask my body to perform without preparation.
And I no longer ask it to prove anything through force.
Integration
Stand still for one minute before your next rehearsal or class. Notice whether you are holding your breath.
Gently soften your jaw and allow your tongue to rest at the bottom of your mouth.
Inhale for four counts. Exhale for six. Repeat five times.
Ask yourself: Does my body feel safe right now?
If the answer is no, stay with the breath a little longer.
Grounding is not separate from performance.
It is the foundation that allows performance to be sustainable.