Tag: movement practice

Movement Practice Part 3: MLAM and Archetypes (continued)

Welcome back. In part 2 we discussed some wacky ideas about atoms and electrons and archetypes and the MLAM (Movement-Lifestyle Atomic-Model).

If you’re still into this exploration of the implications of how we interact with movement in our lives (hope you are…), in today’s Movement Practice installment I’d like to discuss the third archetype who sits at the center of the MLAM: The Integrator.

Ready?

But first… An important message about this archetype thing:

Its Not Your Fate

You may find you resonate completely with the description of one of these archetypes I’ve described so far, or that you are a blend of several. An Indoorsman/Exerciser. An Integrator/Exerciser. I personally have been a little bit of each at different points in my life (save for the Indoorsman, thanks to the example set by my parents, I was brought up with an intrinsic value for movement, even if it became very unhealthy in my Over-Identifier days. Nor do I feel as if I’ve attained Transcender status, though I know of few of these individuals, and they are an inspiration to be around, providing an example for how to live harmoniously attuned to one’s body and environment).

These archetypes are only stories. Something I made up to illustrate a point.

In the chance that you might identify strongly with one of these archetypes, I’d like you to remember that while the characteristics of one or more of the archetypes may describe you right now, they do not define who you are and how you will always be. If you feel the Indoorsman is representative of you, with a lacing of The Exerciser, you are not doomed to be these traits.

People can and do change all the time but this change does not take place without first asking the questions: Where am I now, how did I get here, and what what realm exists beyond my awareness? The difficulties in change arise in the inexorability of self-reflection and unpleasantness. It is step that most of us avoid, skipping ahead to the “here’s how to be the best you” step: The Indoorsman joining a basketball league without appraising that his health and fitness is nowhere near sufficient for this demand, for example.

By creating a caricature of the traits that you may not be willing or able to look at in yourself because they are too close, too deeply ingrained as patterns, the archetype descriptions can help you to zoom out and identify areas of your relationship with movement that you’d like to change. Stories can be powerful meaning conveying machines, but they are just stories. Our species has using stories since the earliest forms of pre-spoken-language communication to help to convey ideas in ways that conceptualizing and intellectualizing alone cannot.

My hope is that you do see yourself in one or several of these archetypes, but only so that you can get a broader context for the journey forwards as we explore your relationship with movement and how it may be impacting on your life, for better or worse.

What should interest you most is not which archetype you identify with, but the acknowledgement that the journey from shell to shell of the MLAM is what makes up the bulk of our lives, and instead of moaning about where we’re at now, we can ask, “How do I want to show up for this journey?”

With awareness, an explorative mindset, seeing our failures as opportunities to change? Or regret, disappointment, and frustration that you are who you are.

You are not any one archetype, inside all of us is the possibility of Transcender (an archetype we will meet a little later on). 

Public service announcement complete, let’s meet The Integrator.

Shell 3: The Integrator

Dynamic and adaptive (in life and in his body), The Integrator possesses a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. You probably know quite a few Integrators who don’t realize they’re Integrators. Let’s demystify what makes this archetype distinct.

Professionally, an Integrator is 40% likely to have a job related to movement and fitness, such as a yoga teacher, sports coach, or massage therapist. There is a 35% chance that his job has a definite degree of physical demand such as being a bike courier, a walking tour guide, or a landscaper. There is a 25% chance that he has a low-movement, indoor, corporate, or office-type job such as a software developer, an investor, or an office manager. The common identifier of these Integrators of various professions and life-paths is that movement and being outdoors are one of their top three values, if not number one.

The Integrator can likely be spotted working out at the gym, but is equally likely not to have a regular indoor gym routine. More than the act of showing up to the physical location, he shows up to spend time in his body. He makes time for movement and activity as an integral part of his life versus seeing it as something to fit in amongst a plethora of other higher priority activities.

His movement practice is a cornucopia of movement forms, exercises, sports, and non-exercise activities that, when habitually engaged with, make him feel subjectively “good”. He has discovered, likely quite early on, that life is much preferable when h:e integrates movement into it (hence his name).

For him, “movement practice” exists on a spectrum with three landmarks:
1. Organized routines and structured practice.
2. practical movement integrations and non-exercise activities.
3. Spontaneous, creative, or improvised movement forms.

The most healthy, integrative integrator has aspects of all three landmarks in his practice, which I call possessing the Movement Practice Trifecta (MPT).

For example, The Integrator who has a fully established MPT may participate in, as his chosen organized movement practice (landmark one),  powerlifting, Ashtanga yoga, or karate- Highly structured activities he wants to get better at and see progression physically. As his non-exercise activity (landmark two) he makes time for a walk outdoors at lunch time, and enjoys gardening in his leisure time. And as his creative, spontaneous movement option (landmark three) he may practice contact improv, or the flowing, creative work of Ido Portal, as well as engaging with the unplanned spontaneity implicit in playing a recreational sport. 

Not all Integrators engage with the full MPT, and this does not make one Integrator better or worse, just at different points along the spectrum. You may recognize an Integrator as a doctor who plays in a ball hockey league, commutes on his bike to the hospital, and works out at the gym two times per week. You may know a CEO who’s alter-ego is a martial-artist and high level ping-pong player who is also practices carpentry on the weekend.  Or you may know a chiropractor who is a StrongFirst kettle bell instructor, who plays with his dog at the dog park regularly, and plays beach volleyball on Sundays. 

Many Integrators who are new to integrating do not yet have a trifecta in place, but are likely to have hobbies that can be done outdoors. If the newly anointed Integrator does not yet have a distinct structured practice, play a sport, or go to the gym, he probably has high non-exercise activity levels, as he organizes his life around his value for being outdoors and using his body in some useful, enjoyable way, such as hunting, fishing, carpentry, camping, playing with his kids and/or pets. He can’t imagine a life spent sedentary without movement or play.

Even though his day may be busy with appointments, meetings, or deadlines, he looks at his schedule weekly and makes time to move, treating these times as important appointments with himself. His priority is on weaving movement into his lifestyle. The activities that bring him the most joy and allow him to connect with his friends and family are movement based- He’d rather plan a social gathering around an afternoon gardening outdoors than sitting in a cafe; a camping trip over a gambling trip to Vegas, or a cycle tour of Vietnam over a luxury cruise in the Caribbean.

The Integrators who do have a structured training  or gym routine approach it in a different way from The Exerciser. Their intention is less one of end-gaining and more about the process he engages in. It is less striving to be something he’s not, and more based on accepting who he is now, and who he chooses to be as he walks his path. Even as a powerlifter or other metric-based athlete, he is not attached to chasing numbers as a predictor of his success, and simply enjoys the journey he is on- The ups and downs, while aiming for his goals (and due to his process-oriented outlook, he often achieves his goals).

The goal of the Integrator’s training routine is to support his body so he can keep enjoying his favourite activities without omni-present niggling joint aches common to The Exerciser, and normal for The Indoorsman. He takes care of himself so that he can live the life he loves without fear of becoming injured or not being able to keep up. If he loves to hike with his wife in the wilderness, his practice of movement and strength training is geared towards helping his joints to feel healthy and happy so he can continue to do this for as long as he can. 

Movement is integrated into his life, be it professionally, socially, or for personal enjoyment and health, and this contributes to his high adaptability to life’s demands. He bikes or walks to commute because it is empowering, economical, enjoyable, and as a bonus, good for his health. He values looking fit and healthy (let’s be honest, we all want to look good) but also truly enjoys working on new movement skills and trying new activities, finding himself looking forward to the peace and clarity that comes with deep practice and entering a flow state. He goes for daily walks not because the doctor told him he should exercise more, but because he knows he feels better when he gets more blood flowing to his brain and body, impacting on his abilities in his mental and professional areas of life. Because of this extra kick of blood to his brain, the production of neurotransmitters unknown to the sedentary, combined with a less chronically sympathetic nervous system state, he is also likely to be a better learner than the average human, seen as more intelligent, having more resources made available for his brain to use for something other than surviving.

His adaptability and vitality earn him his place on the middle shell of MLAM: He is resilient to mental and physical health risks, and his salubrious habits perpetuate a positive feedback loop, further contributing to his resilience. The key factors that distinguish The Integrator from The Exerciser is his moderate attitude, which sounds boring, but because of which we can account for his physical and emotional ease. Whereas The Exerciser fluctuates between highs and lows in her physical practice and mental state, The Integrator is level, enjoying a sense of inner peace and calm that the Exerciser does not, which inevitably trickles into other areas of his life, making him an excellent role model for us all.  

The Integrator at a glance:

Superpower: Level-headedness, learning, adaptability.
Kryptonite: Inability to engage in a consistent routine, forced to sit for too long.
Vitality: Good energy, immune system, resilient to illness.
Relationship with movement: Integrated, balanced, trifecta.
Attitude towards the stairs: Takes the stairs because he has legs that work and doesn’t take them for granted.

 

Having fun with this yet? Whatever, I am. In our next Installment of Movement Practice we will meet our two professional athlete archetypes: The Dedicated Mover and The Over-Identifier. Stay tuned! If you really want me to let you know when I have some new writing to share, let me know. I can put you on my “People who actually read what Monika writes” gmail list.  

 

Movement Practice Part 2: The 6 Archetypes and MLAM

Where do you sit on the Life in Motion Spectrum?

As mentioned in Part 1, Chris made the observation (one I believe to be astute) that most people practice movement without having a movement practice. I’d like to continue exploring the significance of this statement.

An “atomic” model for movement lifestyles

Before we formally define movement and practice (and movement-practice), I’d like to illustrate a few characters that will help us bring the concept of “movement lifestyle” to life. By that I mean, what is the style of relationship you currently have with movement? 

While I initially described it as a spectrum, I feel as if this analogy may not be completely accurate in representing an individual’s relationship to movement in their lives.

Rather, I see our lives in motion as an atomic model:  Our individuality represented by the electron-containing shells which orbit the nucleus of an atom. And now for my attempt to consolidate what I remember from grade 10 chemistry. 

In what I am calling the “Movement-Lifestyle Atomic-Model” (MLAM), visualize that the entire atom, nucleus and shells, represents our lives and our relationship with movement. Each electron-containing shell has particular attributes and characteristics, which I will describe as movement archetypes having a particular set of characteristics: Superpowers, kryptonites, and a relationship-style with movement.

As an electron has the capability of jumping from shell to shell, giving off or emitting energy (photons), based on the interactions it has with its environment, so too are we capable of changing from archetype to archetype. The electrons have a different level of energy and degree of stability depending on their distance from the nucleus: The closest orbit to the nucleus has the lowest energy, and highest stability. The orbit farthest from the nucleus has maximum energy and is highly unstable.  In this representation, the “MLAM atom” has five shells, each representative of one of the five (plus one) Movement Archetypes. The archetype associated with the closest shell to the nucleus has the lowest energy and is the most stable in it’s position, and the archetype associated with the furthest shell from the nucleus has the highest energy, but the least stability in it’s position.  

All that said, whatever visual representation we choose doesn’t matter. Simply I wish for us to think outside the box a little bit. Not everything is a spectrum in which one end is the opposite of the other. In nature there are plenty of binary relationships- black/white, hot/cold, suffering/joy- but I think (and I could be wrong) that the relationship we have with movement is more complex, multi-faceted, unspectrumable.

The 5 (+1) Archetypes

The first five Movement Archetypes compose the five shells of the MLAM:

Shell 1:  The Indoorsman

Shell 2: The Exerciser

Shell 3: The Integrator

Shell 4: The Dedicated Mover

Shell 5: The Over-Identifier

Compliments to my amazing illustrator, Monika Volkmar.

Not represented by a shell in our atomic model is The Transcender archetype. This is because, as I will explain a bit further along, the Transcender isn’t represented by a single shell, but as the model in its entirety, giving it the ability to jump from shell to shell, changing energy levels, to be any of the given archetypes at any time, for the necessary time. 

The poem by Rainer Maria Rilke comes to mind:

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not complete this last one
but I will give myself to it.
I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
I’ve been circling for thousands of years
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

As mentioned, shell one (The Indoorsman) is the most stable electron orbit, meaning the hardest to change in his ways, whereas shell 5 (The Over-Identifier) is the most unstable, meaning that it is fragile to changes in its environment and prone to identity-crises (not always a bad thing, mind you). In the middle, The Integrator has the most stability and adaptability (or anti-fragility) to the changes in environmental inputs he encounters and maintains a healthy relationship with movement. The Transcender is paradoxically stable and unstable simultaneously. 

Let’s now paint a picture for each archetype in the MLAM:

Shell 1: The Indoorsman

Stable yet sedentary, The Indoorsman, as you would expect, spends most of his life indoors, in climate controlled offices and ergonomic desk chairs with extra lumbar support. He can often be heard complaining about “mouse shoulder” and “text neck” yet fails to actually do anything about these ailments because that would require a degree of honest engagement with himself that he is not yet prepared for. (Note that from here on out I will use “he” to describe both men and women Indoorsmen. Why didn’t I choose “she”? As a lady-writer shouldn’t I be empowered to use the feminine pronoun? Simple. I like efficiency: “He” takes less time to type than “she”, “Indoorswoman”, and “Indoorsperson”. Also, I plan to use “she” for the next archetype description so any feminists reading can rest assured).

The Indoorsman senses undertones of discontent, ranging from moderate to severe, with his state of life, body, and mind which are easily dismissed as background static, and quickly gotten used to as “normal”. That perpetual headache and chronic fatigue? Par for the course to any Indoorsman, his symptoms barely register as blips on the radar bearing any significance. He doesn’t realize these symptoms are in fact abnormal for a healthy human being until, on a whim, he gets a massage and has a few days of relief in which he feels a nondescript sense of “better”, but can’t pinpoint exactly why. “Better” does not last more than a few days because he has no knowledge, tools, or guidance for how to maintain it. It’s not his fault, but it is his responsibility to acquire these tools. 

The Indoorsman can sometimes be spotted reading health and fitness literature (if we can call Men’s and Women’s Health magazines such) but rather than as a serious attempt to inspire a change in his lifestyle, he mostly makes fun of how photo-shopped the fitness models appear, not seeing it as a realistic comparison to themselves (for it isn’t), and using humour to push down his insecurities (The Indoorsman is quite good at this, in fact, self-deprecating humour is one of his super-powers). Nevertheless, the effects of these images on his psyche slip under his radar and contribute to an insidious low sense of self-worth, barely perceptible to him in his current state of cripplingly poor self-awareness.

Despite his sarcastic remarks and statements that he “accepts how he looks”, and has no desire to get in shape because he’s “ok with himself”, deep down he desires to try to change. What’s holding him back is that he lacks any sort of role model for this behaviour, as most of his friend group consists of other Indoorsmen. This lack of role models throughout his life combined with years of Indoorsmanism makes his position in the MLAM highly stable, or resistant to change. That, and change scares the crap out of him.

That is until one day he decides that something needs to drastically change (sometimes after hitting a rock-bottom, or another equally devastatingly inspiring life event). In an effort to try on a value he’s never before held,  but that he deems will move him in a healthier direction (movement and exercise), he takes up an activity like ballroom dancing, playing in a recreational basketball league, or most commonly as an entry point to movement for The Indoorsman, jogging. Though he may only average 2000 steps on a movement “heavy” day, he feels like his current physical state is “normal” (because it’s all he’s ever known) and so he imposes an unrealistic expectation on himself to perform at a standard higher than is realistic. There is a 90% likelihood that in his first venture into exercise he unknowingly pushes past his physical threshold and, if he doesn’t find himself struggling through the ordeal, he wakes up in agony the next day. Based on this experience, he may or may not decide that repeating this event to be a good idea, further contributing to his stability- fear and resistance to change, in the MLAM.

The Indoorsman at a glance:

Superpower: Ability to tune out discomfort, self-deprecating humour.
Kryptonite: Sunlight, exercise, sports.
Vital stats: Haggard, lethargic, pale, poor-immune system.
MLAM Stability: High.
Relationship with movement: Non-existent, wishful thinking.
Attitude towards the stairs: Avoids taking the stairs at all costs.

Shell 2: The Exerciser

Prone to bouts of occasional physical activity, The Exerciser is not sedentary like the Indoorsman, as she is characterized  by her attempts to make up for her predominantly static life with 60 minute clips of intense activity at the gym a few times per week. If she happens to be an individual of affluence, she is likely to spend these bursts of activity with a personal trainer, on whom she is dependent to keep her accountable to her otherwise uninspired exercise regime.

She is likely to be using exercise for one or a combination of four primary reasons:
1) In an attempt to restore a sense of health and balance in her life without actually addressing the reason why her life feels so unhealthily off kilter in the first place.
2) Because she knows she’ll feel better about herself after doing some physical activity, despite the fact that maintaining a routine is hard and often she finds her workouts make her body hurt afterwards.
3) To lose weight, gain muscle, or fit whatever aesthetic ideal she’s chasing in an attempt to heal her self-esteem or fill a void within.
4) For no better reason than she feels like she “should” due to pressure from a doctor, a friend group, her parents, or the all-pervasive media influence. 

None of these reasons allow her to accept who she authentically is right now, but are based on her striving to be someone she’s not. Nor do these reasons respect her yet to be uncovered “why” behind her movement practice.

The Exerciser cares a lot about how she looks and she often uses exercise to burn calories and tone muscles. She also is prone to believing the notion that a good workout is one in which she works up a sweat, and concludes in an exhausted, dizzy state. In the case of some physical culture ideologies, ultimate success is unlocked when one vomits and/or pees her pants, and The Exerciser sees these as completely rational criteria. These exercise intentions are ironic because she is often running on mere fumes and adrenaline due to mental and emotional burnout from her day job and other poorly managed life-stresses. She likely to have a large sleep debt, thus her scheduled gym-time is probably better spent doing something more restorative, like sleeping (something she refuses to give in to). 

The overarching intentions of The Exerciser are to make up for unhealthy habits: Poor nutrition, over-working, under-moving, staring too long at a screen, existential angst, and comparing herself to unrealistic media portrayals of celebrity bodies. Unlike The Indoorsman, these images can trigger the Exerciser to embark on a strange, shame-induced motivational roller coaster, making her position on the MLAM less stable than the Indoorsman (more prone to taking action and changing something about her life).

When speaking of exercise, The Exerciser often uses the verbiage “fit it in” over “make time for it”: Isolated bouts of physical activity rather than a lifestyle integrated with movement. While she can appear on the outside to be admirably health-conscious , this is largely because when she does workout and cook healthy meals, she posts it on Instagram for all to see, using hashtags like #fitfam, #beastmode, and #paleoaf.

Despite how she strives to appear on the outside, she is out of touch with her body and its needs. Her inner homeostatic mechanisms are out of whack (immune system, metabolism, hormones, circadian rhythm, etc.), and their signals are near impossible to interpret in her hypervigilent state. She lacks presence with her body moment to moment, because to truly tune in would mean to let her guards down and acknowledge the honest state of her body- A bit of a mess. That said, she knows (in a superficial way that she has yet to truly experience) that she must try to be present with herself, connect body with mind, yet when she tries it is an act closer to resembling war than harmonious living. The Exerciser exists on a spectrum from primarily sedentary sometimes exerciser, to compulsive over-exerciser. Neither is an exceptionally healthy, balanced relationship.

What distinguishes The Exerciser from the Indoorsman is that she has a definite value, or at least an interest in having a value for movement where the Indoorsman has none. While misguided and unclear in her intention for movement, she’s taken an important step- The attempt to make movement a part of her life. Some fine-tuning required, she is doing the best with the information she has at this moment in time.

The Exerciser at a glance: 

Superpower: Gets shit done, desires change.
Kryptonite: Prioritization of needs, media portrayals of “fit” bodies.
Vital stats: Chronic fatigue, hypervigilent, sympathetic-dominant.
MLAM Stability: Medium.
Relationship with movement: Unbalanced. Ranging from obsessive to sporadic; highly structured routine to challenge creating a routine.
Attitude towards the stairs: Takes the stairs whenever possible because she can burn 10 extra calories if she sprints them two at a time.

2300 words seems like enough for now… Stay tuned for the next installment of Movement Practice in which we will continue to explore the four remaining movement archetypes and discuss whether any of this even matters (does it?).

Movement Practice (part 1): Then and Now

Welcome to the first installment of my new writing project: Movement Practice. I’m examining the role movement plays in our lives and our relationship with it.  Sound like your cup of tea? Let’s do this thing.

AiM University

In 2015 I attended a 6 day biomechanics course that changed the trajectory of my life. The course was called Anatomy in Motion and from the moment the instructor, Gary Ward, started talking I sensed my life would never be the same (I was right).

Up until that point, as an injured dancer turned personal trainer and bodyworker, I had been researching and exploring different continuing education courses with the aim of finding “the thing” that would give me the clarity and understanding of the human body that could help both myself and my clients more efficiently reach their goals and allow me to more easily work with the chronic pain clients that I tended to attract. Anatomy in Motion, as I later explained to Chris Sritharan, the other course instructor, was “the answer to the questions that I didn’t know how to ask”. All I wanted to do was study their work for the rest of my life- I’d enroll in AiM University and do a Master’s, PhD and whatever else they’d offer until they got tired of me.

Through AiM I was introduced to a new way of seeing the human body in motion, and I haven’t been able to go back. The clarity with which the complex structure of the human body was communicated struck a chord somewhere deep inside of me. The way the course was taught embodied how I learn best: Putting descriptive words to movements of bones and joints and feeling them in our bodies. From that point, my practices of movement shifted, both personally and professionally, in a way I couldn’t articulate at the time.

I’d like to speak a little more about this personal shift (and because my personal life is intertwined with my professional one, the trickle over effect in these two arenas is significant).

Then and Now

Chris, who I now consider an important mentor, made the distinction between movement practice and practicing movement. At the time, the two were inextricable to me, yet in hindsight I can see that this distinction is what I was starting to experience. 

Chris said to us, “there’s a lot of people practicing movement and not a lot of people with a movement practice. There’s a lot of people in the business of teaching movement, but not a lot of coaches aiming to remove the barriers that are preventing people from understanding how to move”.  I’ve heard him repeat this line and variations on it at nearly every course I’ve attended (which at this time of writing is six).

Phil Donahue, the host of the American talk show, The Phil Donahue Show (a show that ran for 29 years ending in 1996) loved to ask the interview question, “what did somebody say to you at one point in your life that changed it?”. In that reflective space we can find that there are distinctive moments of “then and now” in our lives. While I didn’t recognize it at the time, this thing that Chris had said was my “then and now” pivot point.

I attribute the new trajectory to which I was unknowingly beginning to dedicate my life not only to the new way I was learning to see the body, but to a shift in values, unconsciously influenced by Chris’ words: What is the difference between practicing movement and movement practice?

The subtleties of this distinction are elusive. So much so that in the years I explored them I had not idea that this was what I was in fact doing. I observed a shift in myself and how I approached exercise and movement and journalled on the experiences I was having. The general feeling throughout the process was of some atavistic revival taking place within me. A rewilding process weaving itself through all areas of my life. A rooting into something new yet familiar. Clumsy enough to make my professional practice a challenge as I attempted to adapt to a new way of thinking in a workplace that didn’t value it, yet inspiring enough to get back up at each falter and reprimand to continue forward through the fog.

Romanticism aside, as I write these words now, this question is defining of this point in my personal and professional life: What’s the difference between practicing movement and having a movement practice? Is this distinction even important (I feel that yes, it is). Is one better than the other (no, I don’t think so). And for you, the reader, is it worth spending your precious, limited time with these words? 

You’ll have to keep reading. 

Transitions

I remember a then in which I only practiced movement, and a now in which I have a movement practice that defines parameters for how I practice movement. 

I recall how then, I strived to fit an aesthetic. Now my practice includes and often prioritizes skill acquisition over how my body looks.

Then, I clenched and controlled my movements with maximum strength and stability as pinnacles, and numbers as landmarks at all cost. Now, I ask, how can I let go of the need to control and create more freedom for myself?

Then, I had rigid routines, protocols, and a schedule to adhere to, no matter how my body felt (dance performances, my Wendler 531 routine…). Now, I allow for a flexibility, spontaneity in my practice reflected in how my body feels day to day.

Then, I neglected warming up to get exercise out of the way as quickly and efficiently as possible. Now, I enjoy and make time for my warm-ups and movement preparations- If I don’t have time for them, I don’t have time to train.

Then, I tried out any exercise that looked “cool” at the gym because someone “fitter” than me was doing it. Now, I am aware of the intention behind any exercise I put into my movement practice.

Then, my goal was to burn as many calories as possible. Now, I don’t consider the energy expenditure of an exercise at all in my decision to include it in my movement practice.

Then, I tried to be perfect. Now, I know to focus on the process, not the end goal.

Then, I was no pain no gain- I tuned out pain symptoms and signs of over-training because they got in the way. Now I tune in and respect what my body is asking of me on a given day and feel no guilt for taking rest when I need it.

Then, my relationship with my body was a metaphorical battle. Now, my body and I enjoy a relationship based on trust, honesty, listening, and respect.

Then, I was an exerciser and over-identified with my movement form. Now, I am a dedicated student of movement.

The list could go on.  How many of these resonate with you?

If you have the idea that my “then” was describing practicing movement as something “bad”, and my “now” as me having a movement practice that is “good”, I want to make it clear that this is not the case. Simply, I want to illustrate the journey from then to now and the shift in priorities therein.

Imagine a spectrum on which to the far left we have things we define as exercise and activity, and to the far right we have this thing called a movement practice. Right now, you and I are sitting somewhere on that spectrum. This isn’t a judgement, its a fact. Unfortunately, you can become stuck more to one side than the other on this spectrum with the lack of variability to slide around on it. In fact, both sides of spectrum are inextricable as our “lives in motion” and we need to access all points along it depending on our current needs. Its the context that defines whether or not one should aim to slide more to one end or the other.

My “then” was not bad, and my “now” is not good, neither does thinking this way serve me. What did serve me was where I was at the time with the amount of information I had. Could I have found a less painful way of doing things if I had more information? Sure. Could I have suffered less if I had more objectivity? Of course. But I didn’t, so I don’t get too hung up on “should-haves” and “if-only-I-knew-thens”. Neither should you. 

What you can do as a useful, reflective exercise, is place yourself somewhere on our movement spectrum. Where do you feel you sit right now? Are you immovable in that space, or does your position vary day to day, week to week? Are you adaptable, or are you stuck in a moment in time? And importantly, are you ok with this?

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 in which we will explore  the differences between practicing movement and movement practice, and my three archetypes: The Indoorsman, The Exerciser, and the Over-Identifier. Will one of them describe you?