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Dancing has always fascinated me. Every time I saw professionals perform—whether on screen or in real life—a fire ignited within me. I dreamed of mastering this art, yet every attempt to learn dance ended in disappointment.
Since childhood, I had tried dancing: I took lessons from different teachers, attended random dance classes, and watched online tutorials. But nearly every class was about memorizing choreography. I quickly got bored and started believing that dance just wasn’t for me. It felt like pure mechanics, with no room for self-expression.
For the first time, I saw dancers improvising in real time, moving with such power and grace—like superheroes, each with their own unique technique and style. I was mesmerized. The atmosphere was electrifying, and I couldn’t stop smiling throughout the event.
The experience of live dance transformed my understanding in a way no video could capture. Something magical happens in a live performance - you feel the dancer's energy, sense the raw power of movement and creativity.
The difference between watching dance on a screen versus experiencing it live was profound. On screen, even the world's most celebrated dancers might only draw a slight smile of appreciation. But witnessing freestyle dance in person reveals a different world entirely - even an average dancer can take your breath away.
By then, I was already exploring creativity in other fields and had started to recognize dance ideas and concepts. After the battle, a question arose in my mind:
"How would I dance and improvise if I truly mastered this skill?"
I had previously applied the Theory of 100 to meditation, and that experience had completely transformed my perception of practice. It revealed new aspects of meditation I had never considered, challenging everything I thought I knew.
And that made me wonder:
What if the same approach worked for dance?
Could I be wrong about dance the same way I had been about meditation?
Everything was coming together: my success with the Theory of 100 ****in meditation, the inspiration from witnessing live dance battles, and my curiosity. The path forward became clear - it was time to apply the Theory of 100 ****to dance.
I took a sheet of paper, divided it into 100 squares, and wrote at the top:
"Dance: 100 Hours."
After each one-hour session, I marked off a square, tracking my progress.
This simple approach kept me disciplined and prevented me from giving up.
I continued searching for online lessons and signed up for offline classes. At first, everything felt familiar—we were once again learning choreography and basic movements. Doubts crept into my mind:
"Is this really all there is? Am I on the right path?"
But I refused to let my doubts stop me.
They came and went, but I kept training. I was determined: I would complete all 100 hours, no matter what.
The Theory of 100 was working—step by step, I marked my progress, knowing that each checked box was proof of my improvement, regardless of my internal doubts.
I reminded myself:
"My goal is to complete 100 hours. Only then will I analyze the results."
Looking for online dance lessons, I found myself paralyzed by all the choices. I didn't know where to start or what to choose.
I asked professional dancers I had met for advice, and they all said the same thing: "Learn the fundamentals first."
But learning the fundamentals meant repeating the same exact movements over and over again.
However, I didn’t just blindly copy movements. Instead, I turned it into a detective game—analyzing different styles, exploring various tutorials, and following my curiosity. If something didn’t resonate with me, I simply moved on to something else.
During those first 23 hours, I immersed myself in various dance elements. I watched countless video tutorials, attended in-person classes, and experimented with combining movements from different styles.
I tried robotic movements, animation, waves, crumping, and popping, and even explored some choreography. Without any strict expectations, I simply followed my curiosity, mixing and matching elements that caught my attention.
On the 24th hour, something special happened.
That night, I spent five hours dancing at a party—but differently**.** Instead of just repeating steps, I started applying the concepts I had been practicing.
These were no longer just moves; they were ideas I was experimenting with.
I began mixing different concepts. I recalled lessons like:
At some point, I realized something profound:
I had been improvising the entire night, using these concepts.
Instead of focusing on specific moves, I was letting ideas lead my body.
Dance became a living flow, where I could freely mix different elements.
That experience completely changed my perception of dance.
It was no longer about memorizing steps—it was a creative game. I found true freedom in using concepts as a foundation for improvisation.
That night, I realized that parties were the perfect way to break out of rigid training patterns.
From then on, I attended them rarely, but every time I did, I leveled up.
At home, I rarely danced for more than an hour, but at parties, I could go for three hours straight. These intense sessions accelerated my learning, and each time, I felt a significant breakthrough.
Returning home that night, overflowing with inspiration, I began developing my own system—shaping my personal understanding of dance through concepts.
From that moment on, every training session became a source of joy.
I stopped seeing dance as mere choreography and instead recognized it as a gamified workout for both body and mind.
Watching other dancers, I could now understand the concepts they were using, and I experimented with those ideas myself.
This was a major shift:
I no longer needed a teacher—I could explore and discover on my own.
Learning became a detective investigation, where I broke down movements as if they were clues in a mystery.
A key part of my practice was analyzing videos of dancers.
I slowed them down, closely studying their movements, trying to decipher the concepts they used. Then, I would turn off the video’s sound and dance to my own music, inspired by their movements but improvising my own variations.
This became a game—"The Imitation Game."
I stopped copying moves and started seeing concepts - building blocks I could combine in new ways. This wasn't about memorizing choreography anymore; I was discovering my own dance language, learning and creating simultaneously.
After months of practice, I identified five fundamental concepts that helped me develop my own system.
Anyone can dedicate 100 hours to dance and learn to move with confidence and improvise.
As you progress, you’ll realize that every dance move can be broken down into core concepts.
I found five essential ones:
With these concepts, any move can be analyzed, recreated, and built upon.
And the best part?
You don’t need to memorize complicated choreography!
Instead, you explore dance like a detective, breaking it down into components and reconstructing it in your own unique way.
As I practiced these concepts, dance became more than just a physical skill—it became a powerful tool for creative thinking.
By applying these ideas, I wasn’t just learning to move—I was learning to improvise, create, and think differently.
And that was the true breakthrough.
Anyone can dedicate at least 100 hours to dancing to learn how to move with confidence and improvise freely. Along the way, you’ll discover that any dance can be broken down into fundamental concepts.
I have identified five core concepts:
Time, Isolation, Geometry, Space, and Pantomime.
By understanding these concepts, you can analyze and recreate any movement. This framework provides a solid foundation for beginners.
And the most important part—you don’t need to memorize complex choreography!
Each concept serves as inspiration, allowing you to create a variety of movements. With practice, your body and mind will naturally absorb these concepts, leading to spontaneous improvisation.
Describing dance in a book might seem as challenging as describing how to swim, but I will do my best—because I wish someone had explained this to me when I first started. I also believe this will be a valuable resource for many dance instructors.
Any movement can be altered by speed. You can move slowly or quickly, as if controlling time. The best way to start is with slow movements ("slow motion").
You can also switch tempos—moving slowly and then suddenly speeding up. This is known as the "Teleport" concept.
Another technique is moving at any speed and then abruptly stopping in sync with the music, freezing for a moment (also called the "Diamond Freeze").
All of this is time manipulation—you can move fluidly or suddenly accelerate, and you can also repeat movements in cycles.
Most people at clubs, for example, naturally use this concept by repeating the same movement in a loop.
You can also reverse time by inventing a movement and then performing it backward.
Experiment!
This concept involves controlling different parts of your body independently.
For example, you can move just your hand, just your leg, or just your shoulders.
In dance, every part of your body is engaged:
Head, neck, shoulders, forearms, hands, chest, hips, and legs.
The Robot style, for example, focuses heavily on isolation—each part moves separately, creating mechanical precision.
You can combine different movements and dance to your favorite music. Move your hand, then your wrist, then your shoulder, followed by both hands, a step forward, then your chest—creating endless variations.
By mixing isolation and time, you can create unique styles:
Train your body awareness!
This concept is based on visualizing geometric shapes and drawing them with your movements.
For example, you can "draw" lines, squares, circles, or any other shape using your hands or any part of your body.
By combining isolation and geometry, you can create structured, precise movements.
For instance, draw an invisible line with your hand, creating new movement variations.
Take it further—"dance" your own name, forming the letters with your body.
Have fun with it! These exercises not only improve your dancing but also enhance creative thinking.
This concept allows you to use movement in all directions:
Up, down, left, right, circular motion, or any dynamic pathway.
When you think about space, even the simplest movements become more diverse.
For example, when moving your hand, you can:
Now, imagine combining geometry and space—you can draw a small circle with your hand in the air.
But if you add the space concept, you can expand those circles into larger, sweeping movements or even spin around, creating a full-body circular motion.
Improvise with intelligence!
This is the most expansive and creative concept, but also the most challenging.
It is limited only by your imagination.
You can imagine anything:
Swords, battle scenes, superpowers—then translate these ideas into movement.
This concept allows you to visualize and materialize any idea through dance.
A great example is the movie "Green Lantern."
The main character gains a power ring that lets him create anything he can imagine—a perfect analogy for this concept.
Green Lanterns can manifest their thoughts into reality—just like in dance, where you can bring imagined objects and stories to life through movement.
It doesn’t have to be perfect—the goal is to have fun and expand your creativity.
Practice with an awareness of the process.
By combining different concepts, you open the door to a world of infinite dance variations.
Imagine using the pantomime concept to mimic throwing a ball. Now, add the time concept—suddenly, you slow down, as if you’re in a scene from a futuristic movie, then speed up as if fast-forwarding a tape. In an instant, you change your pose, and your dance takes on a whole new dimension.
Each concept is like a magic wand, capable of transforming any movement.
That same imaginary ball throw, viewed through the lens of the space concept, can become an epic journey across the entire dance floor.
Remember, you’re not just dancing—you’re playing a fascinating puzzle game, where your body is the instrument, and your mind is the creator.
Through this process, I realized something incredible:
By dancing with concepts, I wasn’t just having fun—I was preparing my body for any choreographic challenge.
It was like training to be a universal soldier—ready for anything!
After 100 hours of practice, I didn’t just learn how to move—I fell in love with dance.
It became more than just physical activity.
It was gymnastics for both the body and the mind.
One day, I heard dancers talking about a "movement vocabulary."
That idea hooked me—like a fisherman’s lure.
Suddenly, I understood:
Dance is a language, and movements are words.
And the more "words" you know, the more fluently you can "speak" the language of dance.
This realization brought me incredible peace.
I no longer felt the need to rush—I simply focused on building my dance vocabulary, trusting that over time, I would be able to "speak" as naturally as in my native language.
This concept turned out to be so powerful that I applied it to other areas of my life.
When playing the piano or designing games, I told myself:
"Build your vocabulary, and improvisation will come naturally."
Through dance, I learned to improvise in music and design—using the same principle of concepts.
Dance became more than just a hobby for me.
It became a key to creative thinking and self-expression.
I realized that any movement and any dance style can be described through the lens of five fundamental concepts.
These concepts are like musical notes—just as all music is built on seven notes, all dance can be expressed through these five elements.
A key aspect of my approach was constantly searching for new, unfamiliar movements.
This exploration is at the heart of developing creative thinking.
Drawing from my experience in theater, music, and business, I applied the principle of innovation to dance, allowing me to expand the boundaries of my own thinking.
By practicing these concepts, I didn’t just enhance my creativity—I was also preparing my body for more complex dance forms and choreography.
After a year of this practice, I was able to create my own choreography, using concepts and challenge as the foundation.
Over time, I came to understand that dance had become an essential part of my personal growth and mental development.
I discovered that the body is one of the most effective tools for developing the mind.
Dance taught me how to operate with abstract concepts and translate them into physical reality—a skill that later became key to my transition into what I call the "state of genius."
The understanding of concepts I gained through dance seamlessly transferred to other areas of my life.
This approach helped me in music, improving the quality of my compositions, in business, and in other fields. Dance became a catalyst for my overall development.
I discovered that 90-99% of my dance practice happened alone.
It was like yoga in motion, guided by music and learning new things.
I wasn’t dancing to perform for others—I was dancing for myself.
And it turned out that this privacy deepened my process.
Free from external judgment, I was able to improvise freely, develop my creativity, and explore movement with a deeper understanding.
There was a time when I stopped dancing altogether. I lost motivation, and it no longer excited me. And that’s okay. I realized that I had played the game, and I was done for now.
But dance never left me. Now, I sometimes return to it, integrating movement into my daily routine—between workouts or as a warm-up. It’s not about "having to" dance. There is no obligation.
I dance when I feel like it, and when I don’t, I focus on other activities.
However, I understand that the conceptual foundation of dance remains a valuable skill—one that shaped my understanding of concepts, expanded my creative thinking, and paved the way for breakthroughs in music, piano, and beyond.
I truly believe that dance training based on concepts could be one of the most important tools for developing conceptual thinking. Education through movement and the body is incredibly effective, and I see it as a powerful path to mental and creative growth.
This recipe won’t just teach you how to move—it will open the door to creative self-expression and personal transformation through dance.
In the dance world, there is a kind of "Holy Grail"—the search for a unique style.
I discovered that this style is not something you find—it’s something you create by focusing on movements that not only inspire you but also feel natural to your body.
The key to this process is using concepts.
When you experiment with different concepts, you naturally develop movements that resonate with your body and soul.
By practicing this regularly, you gradually build your own unique "movement vocabulary."
This process is similar to developing your personal handwriting.
Just as everyone writes in their own way, in dance, you shape your own signature style of movement.
Over time, this individual set of movements inevitably evolves into your own authentic style.
It’s important to understand:
When you are 100% focused on the movements you truly feel and enjoy, you cannot be wrong.
Every movement that comes from within is authentic and unique.
This approach frees you from the pressure of "being special."
Instead of forcing uniqueness, you simply allow your individuality to emerge naturally through dance.
Your style stops being a goal—it becomes the natural result of genuine self-expression through movement.
Remember:
Your unique style is not something you forcefully create—it is something that unfolds naturally when you allow yourself to be fully present in dance.
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