She arrived to class visibly tense. Not dramatic. Not crying. Just… holding a lot. Photo by Gabrielle Henderson on Unsplash You could see it in the shoulders. In the jaw. In the carefulness. We began with breathing, as always. And then I invited her into something deceptively simple: “Breathe out with a sigh.” At first, the sound barely existed. A quiet exhale. Controlled. Polite. Again. A little more sound this time. Again. And suddenly, the sigh became real. Louder. Fuller. Longer. Her whole body changed afterwards. The shoulders dropped. The chest softened. The breath deepened naturally. This is the power of voice. Not performance voice. Not singing beautifully. Not speaking correctly. But voice as vibration. Voice as release. Voice as expression. And most people are not using it nearly enough. What voice actually is Try this now. Place your hand gently on your throat. First say: “shhhhhhh” Then: “aaaaaah” Did you notice the difference? With “aaaaah,” something vibrates underneath y

A client once told me: “I really want to do this for myself… but now is not the right time.” I said okay. A month later, I checked in again. Again: “Later.” So I gently asked: “What is standing in the way?” The answers in these situations are usually understandable ones. Finances. Time. Children. A partner’s schedule. Work exhaustion. And I respect all of it. No one will ever be forced into doing something they do not want to do. Not in my world. That is not why I am here. But I do ask the question with care: What is truly standing in the way? Because often, underneath the practical reasons, there is something deeper: A difficulty allowing care to be directed toward oneself. Self care is not indulgence Many people still relate to self care as something extra. A luxury. A reward. Something optional to do once everything else is taken care of. But biologically, that is not how humans function. The nervous system is not designed for continuous output without recovery. The brain needs per

During an improvisation session a client said to me “Katerina, I feel like I’m doing nonsense.” I smiled and replied: “Perfect. Then that’s what we will do. Nonsense!” I put on music that matched the feeling—slightly absurd, slightly playful— and invited her to fully embrace it. To stop trying to make it make sense. To stop trying to make it beautiful. To just make nonsense. The most nonsensical kind of nonsense. At first she resisted, but slowly she started giving into it. She was smiling and enjoying herself deeply. And eventually, laughter escaped her body. Real laughter. The kind that bursts out when something in you has finally let go. It was magnificent. Because in that moment, she was no longer trying to do it right. No longer trying to look good. No longer filtering herself through the eyes of an imagined audience. She was simply moving. And that is where creativity begins. Photo by Ananya Dutta Photography Creativity is not about talent Creativity is often narrowed down to art

“I can’t dance.” It is one of the most common things people say to me when they hear I work with dance. Usually followed by: “I have two left feet.” “I have no rhythm.” And every time, I think the same thing: Who taught you that? Because no one is born believing they cannot dance. Photo by Arthur Tseng on Unsplash Someone taught you to doubt your body. Someone taught you that your expression was embarrassing, excessive, awkward, wrong. Someone, at some point, made you self-conscious enough to stop moving freely. And that message went deeper than just dance. Because when a child is told their expression is too much, too silly, too loud, too strange— what they often hear is: “Don’t be yourself like that.” And children adapt. They suppress. They learn what is acceptable. They trade authenticity for belonging, because belonging is survival. Over time, that becomes habit. Then personality. Then identity. And one day, as an adult, you say: “I can’t dance.” When really, what you mean is: “I n

Have you ever noticed that you can go through an entire day without taking a single conscious breath? You breathe all the time — and yet, most of the time, you are not really aware of your breathing. Photo by Ananya Dutta Photography Maybe right now, as you’re reading this, your breath is a bit shallow. Or paused. Or moving only in your chest. So what is breathing actually doing, beyond keeping you alive? And why would it be something you need to practice? Three layers of breathing In my experience, there are three layers to breathing. Not separate, but unfolding — one building on top of the other. You’ve definitely experienced the first. You may have touched the second. The third… might be your next exploration. The good: breathing for the body At the most obvious level, breathing supports your physical health. This is the level we usually associate with exercise — doing something “good for you”, like walking down and up the pier three times a week. Photo by Adrien Delforge on Unsplas

Have you ever noticed what happens to your breathing when you sit at your computer for hours? You’re focused. Concentrating. Trying to get things done. Photo by Thomas Franke on Unsplash And without realising it, something begins to change. Your breath becomes shallower. More restricted. Almost held. One of my clients recently described exactly this. She caught herself breathing faster, with tension in her upper body. I recognised it immediately. I’ve been there too — especially during my years in academia, working under pressure, chasing deadlines. It often starts in the mind: “I have to work.” And then, slowly, it translates into the body. The head moves forward. The shoulders close in. The chest collapses. And with that, the space for breathing changes. What I see as a movement facilitator From a movement perspective, something very specific is happening. The space available for the lungs becomes limited. Especially the lower part of the lungs — the widest, most spacious area — gets