Coming Home to My Dance: What ESS Camp Reminded Me About Connection, Growth, and Finding My Flow

There is something about coming home from a dance camp that makes me fall in love with West Coast Swing all over again.

I just got home from ESS Camp, a leveled West Coast Swing learning camp, and as I have been settling back into normal life, I keep thinking about how much I love this dance.

Not just the dancing.

Not just the music.

Not just the social nights.

I love learning.

I love drilling something over and over until my body finally understands it.

I love those tiny nuances that you don't even notice until someone points them out.

I love discovering that something I thought I understood actually has another layer underneath it.

And I really love learning from dancers who have spent years developing their own relationship with this dance.

That is one of the things I appreciate most about camps like ESS.

You get to see how differently people approach the same dance.

Each of the professional couples brought their own experience, their own movement, their own way of communicating, and their own way of teaching.

And I loved that.

They weren't all teaching the exact same thing in the exact same way.

They were sharing their understanding of the dance.

Their gifts.

Their experience.

Their time.

Their talent.

And watching that reminded me of something I think is really important, not just in West Coast Swing, but in growth in general.

We are supposed to learn from other people.

But we aren't supposed to become other people.

Take What You Learn and Make It Your Own

I think sometimes as dancers we can get caught in the comparison trap.

You see someone who is amazing and think, I want to dance like that.

So you try to move like them.

You try to style like them.

You try to create the same kind of connection.

You watch what they do and think maybe if you can just figure out how to make your body do what their body does, you will finally be a better dancer.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with being inspired by someone.

I do it all the time.

I love watching dancers who are incredible at what they do. I love learning from them. I love being challenged by someone who sees something in my dancing that I haven't seen yet.

But there comes a point where you have to take that information and make it yours.

Because your body isn't their body.

Your movement isn't their movement.

Your history isn't their history.

Your relationship with the music isn't their relationship with the music.

And your partner isn't their partner.

That is where I think some of the most interesting growth happens.

You learn something from someone else, and then you take it home with you.

You drill it.

You play with it.

You figure out what feels natural in your body.

You figure out what doesn't.

You keep the parts that resonate with you.

You change other parts.

And eventually, it becomes part of your own dance.

That is what I want for myself.

And, that is what I want for the dancers I teach, too.

I don't want you to dance like me.

I want you to become more fully you.

Connection Is Different With Every Person

Another thing I was reminded of at camp is how individual connection really is.

We talk about connection in West Coast Swing all the time.

And rightfully so.

Connection is such a huge part of this dance.

But connection isn't a formula.

You don't connect with every person in exactly the same way.

Some partnerships feel effortless.

You step onto the floor and something just clicks.

You hear the same things in the music.

Your bodies seem to understand each other.

You can breathe together.

You can play.

You can take risks.

You can create something without having to think about it.

And then you dance with someone else and it feels completely different.

Maybe you have to work harder to understand each other.

Maybe the timing feels different.

Maybe the physical connection isn't what you expected.

Maybe there isn't much of an emotional connection.

And I think we can sometimes make that mean something about ourselves.

I'm not a good enough dancer.

They're not a good dancer.

Why can't I make this work?

But what if nothing is wrong?

What if you are simply different people dancing together?

Not every person is going to connect with you on a physical level.

Not every person is going to connect with you on an emotional level.

And you aren't going to connect with every person in the same way either.

That doesn't make one person better or worse.

It doesn't mean someone failed.

It just means that connection is a relationship.

And every relationship is different.

I think there is freedom in understanding that.

Instead of walking away from a dance thinking, Why couldn't I make that work?

Maybe we can walk away thinking, That was different. What can I learn from it?

And Then Saturday Night Happened

And then Saturday night happened.

I found my flow.

And I haven't found that feeling in almost a year.

I don't mean I haven't had good dances.

I have.

But this was different.

There was a moment where I stopped thinking about what I was supposed to be doing.

I wasn't analyzing.

I wasn't trying to make something happen.

I wasn't checking myself.

I wasn't wondering if I looked good.

I wasn't thinking about whether I was connecting "correctly."

I was just...

there.

I was listening.

I was owning my movement.

I was connecting.

I was feeling.

I was creating.

And it felt amazing.

And almost immediately, my brain did what my brain tends to do.

It asked:

Why can't this stay consistent?

Why can't I feel like this every time?

Why can't I always connect this way?

Why can't I always create this easily?

Why can't I just stay in this place?

And that is when I realized I had a choice.

I could turn that beautiful experience into another thing to chase.

Or I could simply be grateful that I experienced it.

So I chose gratitude.

I told myself:

You are so blessed to have experienced this.

Stop.

Pay attention.

Notice it.

Notice how your body feels.

Notice how you are connecting.

Notice what emotional connection feels like.

Notice what physical connection feels like.

Notice what it feels like when you aren't trying to control everything.

Notice what it feels like when your movement, your partner, and the music all seem to come together.

Remember this feeling.

Not because you need to recreate it every time.

But because your body knows what it feels like.

Maybe I Don't Need to Figure Out Why

This has been such an interesting shift for me.

My first instinct is usually to figure things out.

Why did that happen?

What was different?

What did I do?

What did my partner do?

What made the connection work?

How can I make sure I can do it again?

And while there is value in being curious, sometimes I think we can analyze an experience so much that we actually take ourselves out of it.

Maybe I don't need to figure out exactly why I found my flow that night.

Maybe I just need to remember what it felt like.

Because the more I experience something, the more familiar it becomes.

The more my body gets to feel it, the more integrated it can become.

I don't have to force it.

I don't have to chase it.

I don't have to compare every dance to it.

I can simply recognize:

Oh, I know this feeling.

And maybe the next time it shows up, I will trust it a little sooner.

Maybe I will spend a little less time in my head.

Maybe I will let myself stay there a little longer.

And maybe eventually that feeling won't seem so unfamiliar.

Owning Who I Am as a Dancer

I also came home thinking a lot about owning who I am.

Not running from my strengths.

Not apologizing for them.

Not handing over my power because someone else knows something I don't.

There is a difference between being willing to learn and believing that everyone else knows more about your dance than you do.

I want to keep learning.

I want people to challenge me.

I want to discover what I don't know.

I want to drill.

I want to refine.

I want to have those moments where someone says something and suddenly I see my dance differently.

But I also want to own what I bring.

Because I have spent a long time becoming the dancer I am.

And so have you.

You have your own strengths.

You have your own movement.

You have your own experiences.

You have your own way of hearing music.

You have your own way of connecting.

You have your own energy.

And those things matter.

Sometimes we get so focused on what we need to fix that we forget to recognize what we already have.

What Are the Gifts You Bring to Your Partnership?

So here's something I want you to try.

The next time you have a dance where you walk away frustrated, don't immediately make a list of everything you did wrong.

Instead, ask yourself:

What did I bring to that partnership?

What are your gifts?

Maybe you have beautiful musicality.

Maybe you make your partner feel safe.

Maybe you are really responsive.

Maybe you are playful.

Maybe you create beautiful stretch.

Maybe you're grounded.

Maybe you're soft.

Maybe you're strong.

Maybe you listen really well.

Maybe you bring energy.

Maybe you bring calm.

Maybe you make people feel welcome.

Maybe you have a natural ability to make your partner smile.

Maybe you simply bring a genuine love for dancing.

Write those things down.

Seriously.

Write them down.

Because I think we often have a much easier time listing our weaknesses than our gifts.

We know exactly what we aren't good at.

We know what we need to work on.

We know the things that frustrate us.

But can you name what you bring?

And can you own it without feeling like you are bragging?

You should.

Because your strengths are part of your dance.

They are part of what you get to offer another person.

Your Partner Has Gifts Too

And then comes the other side of that.

Your partner brings their gifts too.

Maybe they have strengths that are completely different from yours.

Maybe they hear music differently.

Maybe they move differently.

Maybe they are more grounded than you.

Maybe they are more playful.

Maybe they create space for you in a way you haven't experienced before.

Maybe they challenge you.

Maybe they make you uncomfortable.

Maybe they bring out something in you that you didn't know was there.

That is the beauty of partnership.

We don't have to bring the same thing.

We get to blend what we each bring.

I don't want to overpower my partner.

And I don't want to disappear into my partner either.

I want to bring myself fully to the partnership and then connect with what they are bringing.

That is where I think some of the magic happens.

Two people.

Two different bodies.

Two different experiences.

Two different strengths.

Two different ways of hearing the music.

And somehow, for those few minutes, we create something together.

That is pretty amazing when you really stop and think about it.

Dance Is a Gift

The more I dance, the more I believe that dance is a gift.

It's something we give to each other.

You give your movement.

You give your listening.

You give your attention.

You give your playfulness.

You give your creativity.

Your partner gives theirs.

And together, you create something that didn't exist before you stepped onto the floor.

Sometimes it's incredible.

Sometimes it's awkward.

Sometimes it's frustrating.

Sometimes it's hilarious.

Sometimes you walk away thinking, That was the best dance I've had in months.

And sometimes you walk away wondering what just happened.

All of it is part of the process.

And I think that's important to remember when you're learning.

Because if you're always evaluating whether you are good enough, you miss the experience of actually dancing.

If You're Feeling Stuck in Your Dance

So if you have been feeling stuck lately...

If you've been wondering why you aren't progressing fast enough...

If you feel like everyone around you is getting better and you're not...

If you're struggling to find connection...

If you're comparing yourself to dancers who have been doing this for years...

If you have started wondering whether you should just quit...

Maybe don't start by focusing on what you're doing wrong.

Come back to what you already have.

Come back to your strengths.

Come back to the reasons you started dancing.

Come back to the music.

Come back to the people.

Come back to the feeling.

And remember that growth doesn't mean becoming someone else.

Sometimes growth is simply becoming more comfortable being yourself.

That is something I am taking home from ESS Camp.

I can learn from incredible dancers without needing to become them.

I can connect differently with every partner.

I can continue working on the things that challenge me without making those weaknesses my identity.

I can own my strengths.

I can trust my body.

I can remember what flow feels like without trying to force myself into it.

And I can keep showing up.

Because I still love this dance.

After all these years, I really, really love this dance.

I love the learning.

I love the drilling.

I love the nuances.

I love the people.

I love the conversations that happen without words.

I love the moments where everything clicks.

And I even love the moments where it doesn't.

Because there is always something to learn.

And there is always another layer to discover.

So if you find yourself struggling on the dance floor, I hope you remember this:

You already bring something valuable to the partnership.

Don't spend so much time looking for what you're missing that you forget to recognize what you're carrying.

Write down your gifts.

Own them.

Bring them with you.

And then see what happens when you connect your gifts with someone else's.

Maybe that's where your next level of dance begins.

Maybe it's not about becoming a better version of somebody else.

Maybe it's about becoming a more connected version of you.

And, I think that's one of the most beautiful things about West Coast Swing.

We get to keep learning.

We get to keep growing.

We get to keep discovering.

And every time we step onto the floor, we get another opportunity to share a little bit of ourselves with another person.

That is a pretty beautiful gift.

Live in Love. Move with MeaningPlay Passionately.

I'll see you on the dance floor.

P.S. A moment with my besties. Friends make life so special.