You Can Become an Ankle Sprain Whisperer

Have you ever had an ankle sprain?

Whooopsie!

That’s a silly question… If you’re a human, your answer is most proabably yes.

If you’re a dancer, like I am currently having an identity crisis about, statistically, ankle sprains are one of the most common injuries.

The problem is that most of us disregard our past ankle sprains as being unimportant and unrelated to any of our current aches, pains, and chronic niggles.

And then our bodies woes become this mystrious thing, a senseless cascade of symptoms of source unknown.

I work with a lot of folks in this situation, and I often see the impact of an an old, forgotten, ignored ankle sprain, on their body’s current state.

The way their body is moving now has become their solution. Their current set of movement options is an adaptive strategy in response to that sprain.

Could this be you? (chances are likely, yes)

How do you know if your old ankle sprian is still messing with you, and what can you do about it?

You can totally figure this out…

On one condition: You’ve got to stop trying random shit you found on Youtube and instead, find a system to investigate your ankle/body as objectively as possible.

I’ve been blessed to have been shown such a system, and I want to share it with you, step by step. And it’s not rocet surgery.

You can become your own ankle sprain whisperer.

But first, there’s a bit of background info to get familiar with, so I made a little three part video series (all the clips are from my most recent Liberated Body Movement Deep Dive session, called: The Ankle Sprain Retrospective)

Ankle Sprain Whispering: The Preliminary Theory

I love those two words together: “Preliminary theory”. Feels so sophisticated, doesn’t it?

This first video describes why it is important to consider how an old, forgotten ankle sprain could be messing with other distant parts of your body.

There is a system you can use to determine how many other issues your ankle sprain may be linked to (and I’m going to share that system, just a little farther along. Oh how I love a good system, don’t you?!).

So if your neck feels restricted, and 5 years of neck stretching hasn’t helped, should you keep doing those streteches? Or is it time to get curious about the real source of that neck issue? Is your neck being affected by your ankle?

We can totally figure this out!

6 Important Considerations for Ankle Sprain Significance

Video two is to help you consider how significant that ankle sprain was, so you can truly give it the time and attention it needs.

Most people under-appreciate the impact of an injury, because while their minds may have forgotten it, their bodies still remember.

This next video outlines a few important considerations to develop an appreciation for the amount of time, attention, and care that old sprain might need now, so we can move forwards and heal appropriately.

*NOTE my audio turned off as I was speaking about the first consideration (tbh I actually dropped my phone in my toilet right before recording the session… Guys, you don’t need your phone in the bathoroom with you. Learn from my mistakes!), so the video begins at #2.

Not on the video, consideration one is,“How old were you at the time of injury?”. Consider that the younger you were when the sprain happened might make it more significant, not less. THis goes against how we usually think.

Consider that 20 years of adaptation and habit formation around that sprain is more impactful than one year. Just because you were young and you healed, doesn’t mean it didn’t have a significant effect on your body to this day.

The 6 considerations in a nutshell:

  1. How old were you at the time? *see note above
  2. What was your emotional/nervous system state?
  3. Did it cause you to cease activity for a period of time, and did you respect that?
  4. Did you receive the appropriate rehabilitation or complete care needed at the time?
  5. Did you personally, or other authority figures take it seriously or did you ignore it and push through it??
  6. Did any new symptoms, of unknown cause, at other parts of your body pop up weeks, months, or even years after the ankle sprain?

And then a little rant about the standard medical system and how it so often dismisses us when doctors don’t have answers. All too common…

The Ankle Sprain Whispering System

Ok, now let’s look at a practical system we can use to rule in or out any suspisions about how and what that old ankle sprain is affecting.

This system is based on the Anatomy in Motion check-in process, which is a self-assessment of the motions your body should be able to do during gait. In AiM philosophy and practice, we think of gait as:

a. One of the most objective movement assessment tools we have

and,

b. A highly meaningful context to reintroduce missing movements to restore effiency and ease to the body

To be honest, I didn’t assess myself prior to recording the session, so I had no expectations, and I was quite surprised to find that my left ankle was affecting my left shoulder and neck range of motion. Well shit! Didn’t know that until I checkd in…

Give yourself about 20 minutes to participate in the “Ankle Sprain Whispering Check-in System” (patent pending… jk, this is not my work, it’s adapted from the teachings of Gary Ward and Chris Sritharan, through my AiM studies, and I consider it to be a necessary chapter of the “how to have a human body user’s manual”, so please share far and wide).

The Ankle Sprain Whispering System steps:

  1. Check in with your baseline mechanics. We want to know:
    – Where is your center of mass resting ( based on your foot pressures)?
    – Which leg do you trust/not trust to stand on?
    – What is the current movement potential of your body telling you about which leg you like to stand on more (pelvis shifts, rotations, stepping forwards)?
    – Does your ankle have its full set of movement options?
  2. Manipulate ankle variables (the towel “hug”, inversion, and eversion) to determine what else in your body is being affected by your ankle’s current state. Do your mechanics improve when your foot is more everted? More inverted? When “give it a hug”?

Simple.

What did you find? I’d love to hear.

What do you do with the data?

So maybe you found, like me, that your body has some unresolved issues with your old ankle sprain, and now you’re wondering, what do you do about it?

We want to restore movement options at your foot and ankle so that it can be an independednt, self-actualized body part, no longer interfering with mechanics above. Only when your ankle can know itself and its potential can it then be re-integrated with the whole body, in harmonious relationship.

Restoring missing movement options to a locked down, or hypremobile ankle will help it continue and/or complete its healing process, thereby not needing another part of the body to make up for its loss of options.

We also want to ensure that other parts of your body no longer have to make up for a lack of motion below. For example, if you’re like me and your left humerus external rotation is affected by your left ankle, I also want to do some work on restoring some missing movement to my humerus.

In a nutshell: Can your foot ankle pronate and supinate? Dorsiflex and plantar flex?

If you give these movements back to your system, then re-check with your body’s mechanics, you just might find that your neck problem, at its root, was really more the result of an ankle problem.

That’s what it means to be an ankle sprain whisperer: You are fluent in speaking, listening, and interpreting your body’s language.

How do I restore movement options?

Restoring movement options should also be done in the context of a system (I reallllly love systems because I’m super lazy), and therfore I hesitate to share specific exercises out of context, as they may become yet another random thing someone finds on Youtube and misinterprets.

So if you want to learn more, get the context, and get the system to make the exercises effective, I’m going to invite you to join my next Liberated Body online workshop, in which I share allll the things.

The next one is coming up on Sept 19th 2020, and registration is now open 🙂

In Liberated Body, I make understanding the complexity of gait mechanics simple for anyone, regardless of your background in movement and anatomy, so you can get results with it.

We cover your whole body’s movement mechanics based on its original instructions for the walking cycle. Day two is where we cover foot and ankle mechanics.

It’s a lovely experiential study of your anatomy to troubleshoot why your body feels the way it does, and find strategies to make it feel better, move with less pain, and do all of the things you love with more ease.

Shoot me an email if you want to chat more and learn if this workshop is a good fit for you right now 🙂 Or if you’re ready to register right now, sign up here.

How good of an ankle sprain whisperer are you?

How did that process go for you? Did you discover anything new?

I didn’t even know my left ankle was related to my lef arm until I recorded that session! Crazy! There’s so much to explore…

I’d love to hear what you found. Write a comment below or send me an email about your experience with this ankle sprain business.

You CAN be your own Ankle Sprain Whisperer!

All the best with your ongoing movement explorations 🙂

Want to explore this nerdy stuff with me live every month?

You should join one of my free monthly Movement Nerd Hangouts. See the full topic schedule here, and sign up below so that I can email you when registration opens for the next hangout 🙂

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The Embodied Revolution

After each “lesson” in my Liberated Body online course I ask students to reflect on a few questions to help them process their experience.

Unintentionally, the answers have been inspiring material for my brain to nom and poop into blog posts.

For instance:

My question: What does having a “liberated body” mean to you?

Student answer: “Being able to move with ease and skill long term + feeling joy while defying societal expectations of body/movement acceptability”

Defying soceital expectation of body/movement acceptability.

Because I could not do this is exactly how things went wrong for me.

This soceital defiance in the name of our bodies is the embodied revolution we need (maybe that’s what I should call my workshop instead?? Don’t steal plz).

It got me thinking… Why do we need an embodied revolution? Have we been bullied? Coereced? Indoctrinated?

Have you been bullied?

I didn’t realize until recently how bullied I was, we all are, by societal expectations for how a body “should” be.

Have you been bullied into dismissing your body? Made to believe that how your body looks is more important than how it feels to inhabit? I have. Most women have. Men, too.

I have have been bullied by ballet teachers to care more about my appearance and the pretty shapes I can make my body do than for the relationship I have with it.

Have you been bullied into doing someone elses’ bidding at expense of the well being of your own body?

Most of us been reduced by society to think that the body is nothing but a piece of meat to manipulate. That the highest echelon of acheivement is to appear to fit in and toil away at the expense of ourselves being present as… Ourselves!

Well I got news. You. Are. Not. Steak.

The Meat-Body and the Feeling-Body

That we are reduced to a “meat-body” who has fogotten it can feel is at the root of so much suffering.

For me, the manifestation of my meat-body was an eating disorder. For others, addiction. For others, being sucked into a career path only to wake up one day to see how it’s not what they really wanted, but what their parents wanted for them.

Whatever your case may be, our CULTutral environment asks us to dismiss inhabiting a body that can feel.

At best, we are advised to exercise as a clever ruse to pretend we’re taking care of our bodies. But this advice is for the meat-body- Conform, fit in, look busy, but don’t feel.

Its no wonder its so tough to figure out for ourselves what is “best” for our bodies. And everybody’s got advice for the meat-body that sounds great.

Go for a run. Get an injection. Try these orthotics.

The only advice I feel is ethical to give is that nobody can know what’s best for your body but you, but as you are now, you’re probably asking the question to a piece of steak.

So, how do you know what’s best for your body?

Society knows best

For most of us, the pull of society’s standard is too strong and becomes “what’s best”. By this travesty, we gradually forget how to actually feel our bodies.

Not only are we steak, we are so well cooked we need to add globs of sugary BBQ sauce to make going there even palatable.

We need help from apps that tell us when to eat, when to sleep, when to move, if we’re breathing the right way.

We need all kinds of biofeedback technology just to tell us about how our body is feeling, because we can’t yet tell for ourselves.

If I’m being honest, I’m talking about myself here.

I’m still recovering my sense of true physical hunger. Most of the time I still have to intellectualize whether I should eat or not because I’ve lost the ability to hear a signal so fundamental for survival. Sometimes when I do feel real hunger it makes me feel nauseaus and I have to stop and tell myself I’m ok. I’m not perfect, I’ve got an over-cooked meat-body, too.

Why is it so easy to lose the ability to feel our bodies?

Because this need to fit in pervades all aspects of our weird societal structure.

And if we can stop feeling the subtle messages from our body, the ones that say, “Rest!” “Eat!”, “Don’t eat!”, and “Don’t trust that guy!”, we can ignore the uncomfortable sense that we’re going wrong.

If you could choose not to ever feel wrong again, wouldn’t you?

But in denying the feeling-body, all we can do is conform to an expectation that was never originally ours. If we could feel this bullying as it was happening, it would hurt! And who wants to feel hurt? Not me.

Better to pretend its not bullying at all. Better to stop feeling. Ignorance is bliss.

Hello meat-body.

And your meat-body is very good at getting shit done at your expense.

Your meat-body brings home the bacon

Most of us would rather not admit we willingly dismiss our bodies in order to focus harder on our work, make money, and survive. Especially right now, in COVID days.

Most careers rely on our minds to get shit done at the expense of our bodies.

The mind and the feeling-body can rarely coexist, not without deliberate training. It’s freakin’ hard. Just try it: Do some algebra or some other intellectual task, and pay attention to your breathing at the same time. Maybe you can do it… I can’t.

The benefit of using the mind from a meat-body state is that we can get sucked into it work-mode so intensely that it feels hella productive.

In fact, we feel pretty great! Great that is, until the feeling-body speaks up one day- Shit, you have a herniate disc and it hurts. How the heck did that happen? I didn’t feel it coming.

That’s because you’re steak. Steak doesn’t thave feelings.

Alas, even when the feeling-body starts to speak, we don’t want to hear it. We mean to do right by our body, but we instead we silence it with exercise to “fix”it so we can go back to being steak + mind.

But lack of exercise wasn’t the original problem for the meat-body. The source of the probelm was that we were not paying attention to our feeling-body.

Is the solution to not listening just to yell louder?

Tempting… But no.

Layering stretching and strengthening on top of a body that cannot feel is like shaking a crying baby. You get the result you wanted- silence, but then you have to deal with the devastating consequences.

Exercise is not the fix, because “doing” isn’t the solution for not being present.

Tenderizing an over-cooked steak doesn’t make it any less cooked. It just pummels it. But it feels productive to do something, doesn’t it?

Bringing feeling back to the meat-body

When we are stuck doing and attaining- exercise, career-focus, fitness goals, etc- instead of feeling, we are taken away from being in a body that can feel.

Feeling should be a natural state. Imagine a toddler just developing its senses. All feeling all the time.

But for most of us, feeling is something we have to train ourselves to do again. It becomes a “doing”, and we risk going wrong, yet again, by making “feeling” an output, instead of an input.

In my work with people, and in Liberated Body, this is where we begin: Using movement as input first, output second.

We were all born with the ability to feel our bodies, but somewhere along the way we were told there were more important things than our sensory experience.

We must remember the feeling-body. And only by this alchemical rememberance, overcooked steak can be transformed to its original, raw state.

Non-verbal communication requires a feeling body

So what’s the use of a feeling-body anyway if we can get more shit done by ignoring it?

Life has such sensory richness the meat-body cannot come close to knowing.

Do you know the depth to which the body can feel and communicate beyond the mind?

If you don’t know what I mean, you are probably steak.

What if just being was the ultimate attainment? So rich. Such a joy just to inhabit. What if that was enough?

This transformation from steak into a feeling body is the embodied revolution, and it’s better than chocolate cake (but try telling that to the mind).

Our pre-frontal cortex is great, but…

You are more than a steak with a PFC.

The rest of this blog post is locked for members of my Move With Monika online movement education platform…

If you’d like to read more, and Move With ME (Monika), you go here to join in the fun.

On Physical Mastery #6: Stillness

There’s this place between input and output called stillness where I never allow my body to go . 

It’s a shame because between input and output everything exists. 

It’s the space between cause and effect. 

Between thought and reaction. 

It’s where I can feel.

It’s a space of possibility. Pure potential.

It’s where I give myself fully to ground and gravity. 

And its also the place I use input and output to escape, because I’m too afraid to go. 

This place called stillness is part of physical mastery. And paradoxically, we have to work to attain mastery stillness.

But its a nuanced kind of work that I don’t know if I can explain well.

Think of it like this: Most people think that mastering something is an act of doing. Or trying. An effort.

Anything we can attain must be through an effort to get it, right? 

This is perfectly fine in many areas, like strength training, or improving movement capacity in some regard.

There’s even an inspiring song (and movie) about it:

(Actually this is the only song in the Rocky soundtrack until later in the franchise… )

But with stillness… Not quite the same effort.

Just think to the last time someone told you to relax, which is what we tend think of as stillness.

Someone tells you, “Try to relax”.

What did you just do? You TRIED. You put in EFFORT to attain a state of relaxation. In all likelihood, in your best effort to relax you succeeded only to tighten and compress your body. 

The challenge is that in stillness there is no reference to tell you that you’re doing it. When you contract something, you feel it in the spot you’re contracting. When you are doing nothing, however, what do you feel, and where do you feel it?

I actually don’t have an answer to that because I don’t do enough nothing to feel what nothing feels like (if nothing can even have a feeling…)

What is the reference point for non-action? If we are the one being still, what moving thing gives reference to us?

Stillness is when the world is still moving, and we are just there in it. Not moving with it or against it, just there in it.

Stillness it not felt as an effort. Which is supremely unsatisfying.

It’s not felt as something acting, tensing, straining, contracting, or doing something effortful, in a particular location in your body. So what is even telling you that you’re there? How can you tell that you’re still?

Maybe this is one reason why stillness can be so scary: It’s like you’re not even there… We’re so used to being the point of reference based on input and output.

So when you hear “Try to relax”, it’s not your fault if your default is to tighten your body. 

I’ve been trying to find better words to describe this state of stillness. It’s a place where no effort is required to be. Nothing coming in. Nothing going out. 

I think its so hard to describe stillness because for most of us the brain structures to comprehend it don’t even exist. And we can only understand that which we already have the neural structures to understand…

The Taoist concept of Wu Wei comes to mind: Action through non action. Doing through non doing. Stillness as a state consciously attained through an intention to not act. 

The best way I’ve come to understand stillness, as thing for my body, is as a deep surrender to gravity. A act of non-resistance to it. Letting it bear down, pressing me to the Earth without fighting back.

Most of us are fighting back. We don’t want to surrender. We don’t want to feel helpless in our non-action. 

In fitness and rehab we are taught exercises to “fight back”- Anti gravity exercises, spine extension, standing with “good posture”. I even teach these exercises. And to do them can bring a sense of power and sovereignty: We will not be pushed down. We are strong. Fuck you gravity.

But oh, if you let yourself go to this place called stillness without fighting you’ll feel the pure power that is there What if you could just be in that power without using it? Just in it.

I tried. It was unsettling.

To lie in raw, unused, undirected power feels dangerous and out of control. So instead of lingering in it, we direct it into a protective action, or “productivity”, or business (aka laziness). 

This is why stillness, as a practice, is part of physical mastery. Its how we learn to exists beyond doing. Its where we get to be with our personal power and feeling it’s surge without expending it.

That is, if we don’t escape how chaotic and weird it is.

I was out walking a few days ago and the insight hit me like a ton of bricks: I don’t ever allow myself to be still. There’s always some input I’m taking in, or something I’m doing as an output. 

Not that this is bad… But something’s missing, living that way.

Inputs and outputs are like ducks always coming and going on a pond, creating ripples on the surface so there’s never quite enough clarity to see through to the bottom. See there are actually fishes there. Maybe a rare turtle or some other treasure.

When I’m always using an input or output I avoid stillness and so I can never see what’s really there. 

And in so doing I’ve learned not to trust my body. I’ve never learned to be with it without having to force something in or do something active with it. 

In blocking my stillness, I also block feeling my pain, hunger, emotions, and fatigue. I don’t get accurate sensory information.

Food, information, music, coffee, manual therapy- Inputs I use to alter my state from stillness to analysis or distraction.

And exercise is the main output I use to control what I will allow my body to feel, which is preferable to letting unpredictable and uncomfortable feelings come over me.

And these keep me from experiencing me as I am, as a still pond. With treasure at the bottom I’m missing.

If I’m being honest, I realize I’m just using these inputs and outputs to avoid being still. 

For example, I say, I’m going out for a walk to be “still”, or to “be with myself”. But I’m walking, which is a doing. I’m listening to music, which is an analysis and a distraction. I’m not being still, I’m just pretending. 

I’m not saying you’re doing this. But I definitely am when I look closely.

I laughed out loud as I realized that all the things I call “stillness” are really just me fooling myself. Escaping stillness with something that looks sort of like it.

Even when I sit down to meditate, I’m actively trying to hold a posture (an output). Or I’m meditating on a concept- An input, an analysis, a distraction from a still state. 

Well shit.

And if I’m being really honest, I realized that the number of minutes I spend being truly still in a given day is less than 30. But probably less than 5.

But all life can’t be in stillness. We’d be such easy prey that our biology won’t allow it. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a valuable place to visit more frequently, when it’s safe.

So I decided to try (there’s that word “try”, crap) to find real stillness. 

I lied on my back, and said to myself, “Be fully with the feeling of ground and gravity”. And just wait…

For what? 

That’s the problem… There is no “what”. Just wait. 

But then what the fuck is this supposed to accomplish?

After a minute or so I had the urge to get up and write down all the thoughts (pretty thoughts) that were coming in, because it felt really important that I “get” something tangible out of this. But that would be an output.

I had the urge to move because I was restless. I was the literal embodiment of 100 impulses to do something more instantly gratifying. Anything to escape. 

Boredom. Feeling useless. Feeling like I’m wasting time that I could be DOING.

There wasn’t anything bad happening. But without reference of something coming in, or something going out, I had no reference for who I even was. 

Maybe that’s the point… To dissolve.

Something about it was liberating. Also extremely uncomfortable. 

I lasted 10 minutes. 

I think we’re always balancing inputs and outputs to try to feel like we exist. To sense we are the reference point of our lives by whats going into it and what’s going out.

Right now, as I type this (output), I’m drinking a coffee (input). 

Later, I’m going for a walk (output), and I’ll listen to music (input). 

Then I’ll go work on my pull-ups (output), and eat some dinner (input), while I probably watch Downton Abby (input).

But what if there was a less effortful balance that existed in the space between input and output? I think I would truly like to visit that place more… 

And so I want to leave you with the question, should you like to reflect on this yourself:

How are you blocking your stillness with inputs? 

And how are you blocking your stillness with outputs? 

What would it feel like to exist referenceless?

On Physical Mastery #5: What is Physical Mastery?

I’ve been reflecting on what role movement plays in my life, and what goals I have for it.

Not just, “what goals do I have for my body?”, but “how do the goals I have for my body help me live a life of mastery, seeking truth, and sharing my gifts to others?”

What am I hoping to get out of each time I deliberately carve out the time to participate in the physical area of my life, through movement and exercise?

In movement, as in every area of my life, the concept of MASTERY predominates. So, what does it mean to put in work in the area of physical mastery? 

Let’s first talk about what mastery is not.

Whenever we use exercise or movement to uphold an image of ourselves that is tied to our sense of identity, this cannot be mastery. If I am to use myself as an example, I often use exercise to control my body size, or to feel productive while I procrastinate doing something else. This is not mastery. It’s feeding my ego.

But mastery implies not just doing what is easy and doing the thing we know we should do, but don’t want to, because it doesn’t come naturally. Or we find it boring, or because through it we have to face something painful we’d rather not admit to (like that I care far too much about how my body looks and not nearly enough about what it can do).

So, what’s the easy thing you’re doing? And what’s the hard thing you’re avoiding?

If I’m being honest, the easy thing for me to do is make time for movement everyday (for some people that’s the hardest thing!). The hard thing for me to do is to engage with movement from a place in which I’m not using it to punish myself for eating too much, or to avoid doing something (like my taxes), or out of a need I feel to look a certain way (thinner, always thinner, and more toned). If I fess up to these motives, I actually find I have no desire at all to exercise. Like, what’s the fucking point anymore??

And this realization fucking sucks. It hurts like hell to confront because if I admit to it, then I have to question everything I think I believe about why I’m exercising in the first place. I have face how my movement practice is me lying to myself.

And then I have to ask, am I ok with not being in my personal integrity when I exercise? My answer is, no.

But therein lies my practice of physical mastery.

My personal embodiment of physical mastery demands that I suspend everything superficial and exterior I use exercise for, and then, despite my disinterest, do it anyway. I commit to myself that I will try to feel what its like to move from this disciplined place with real awareness of intent, and not from my default appearance-driven compulsion, or fear of getting fat.

What seems to happen is that physical mastery first exists in the mind, and then manifests in the way it shapes the body. Just as laziness first exists in the mind, and has equal potential to shape the body.

So… What does your embodiment of physical mastery look like?

Here’s what physical mastery, in a movement practice, means to me:

Physical mastery means moving with complete awareness. Being clear on our motives. Moving with attention and intention. Attention of intention. Mastery is feeling empowered from within, not trying to exert power over your body, like it is a battle to win, or a problem to fix. 

Mastery is pure enjoyment of your physical being. The joy just to have a body. Not because it is already perfect, free from pain, or performing to efficiency, but in spite of it’s imperfections you find reason to delight in it. You find reason to celebrate taking ownership of its needs instead of shirking them.

It’s the knowing that your movement practice is an embodiment of delayed gratification. The knowing that the reward of your work today will come with a delay. Stay cool.

Mastery means seeing your reality, seeing the facts about your body, and deciding to act on what needs to be done, instead of ignoring problems and exercising just to numb out.

Mastery is understanding how cause and effect is at play: How everything you’ve done up until right now is reflected in the way your body looks, functions, and feels. No longer being blind to how past injuries- ones ignored, overlooked, and untreated- are affecting us still, today. And then instead of getting depressed or feeling helpless, seeing this fact simply as untapped potential.

Mastery is not pushing through pain, but bowing to it. Respecting the body’s occasional (or frequent…) demand for rest is an act of respect and strength, it does not show weakness. From this place of self-respect you do what needs to be done, even if that means doing much less, or much more, or just something completely different than you’re used to.

Mastery is not giving up on yourself. Not ever believing that your body is in a fixed state. It doesn’t mean you can stop working on your body, but that you recognize that the work is never done, yet you take delight in working anyway (a client once asked, “how long will I need to do these exercises for until I can stop and just get back to my regular life?”, to which I reply, “how long do you intend to live?”, and do you really want that “regular” life back?)

Mastery is choosing not to be lazy. Doing the hard thing, which sometimes means just showing up, and sometimes means auditing your motives, and sometimes means taking a rest day.

Mastery is birthed in the awareness that when you are doing what is right for your body, it is right for your mind, your spirit, for every other area of your life, and for everyone else in your life as well. It makes your movement practice an act of selflessness (so you can drop the guilt or feelings of selfishness at taking time for yourself).

Mastery transcends attainment of any goal: Getting out of pain or performing better at a sport, improving your posture, losing weight, or getting stronger. Mastery is at play when you achieve these results simply as a byproduct of your intention to do something for you because you care about you, not what anyone else thinks of you or what you think you should do.

Mastery is when your goals are your own, not hijacked by society, your parents, or your friend group. Mastery in your movement practice is when your goals, motives, and values are aligned. Embodied.

For me, physical mastery comes alive when I recognize that I only have this one body to live my life through, and the degree to which I can enjoy my life, share my gifts, and be present, is proportionate to how well I nurture it. Sometimes this means doing higher intensity training to boost my energy and resilience, and sometimes it means lying on the floor for an hour because I’m spent. Honouring this daily flux is one of the hardest things because it demands that I listen.

And mastery is the ongoing inquiry: What more can my body be for me? What is getting in the way? What am I blind to? How can I move with more enjoyment? How can I cultivate health and purpose through my movement practice? What I’m doing now… Would I be able to keep this up forever?

So take a moment before your next training session, yoga class, or jog, and reflect:

How are you embodying physical mastery, right now, in your movement practice?

What is the driving motive for exercise? Is it to attain an external goal, or is it an inner transformation?

Just today’s humble thoughts from your self-appointed body mechanics detective and physical mastery guide…


On Physical Mastery #4: A pitiful return on investment…

I had a moment yesterday when I was out for a walk, and it was the first beautiful, spring-feeling day we’ve had in the past week here in Toronto. In that moment, which lasted for just two footsteps, I felt a pure joy at just having a body that I could go for a walk in. It had been a while since I’ve felt that.

And something in me rejoiced with the inward cry: “THIS IS IT. This feeling is WHY you keep working on your body! And don’t you forget it” (for the record, I’ve already forgotten it… And was reminded only when I went back to revise this bit of writing…).

I think this is the ultimate “why” to embody, the longer those of us with a movement practice, practice: We keep working on our bodies so that it becomes like a receptacle into which joy can come. We do the work so we can get our bodies into a receptive state.

And developing this receptivity can only come to be, if you’re not using exercise as a crutch. 

However, this feeling lasted only for a measly two steps- maybe 2 seconds. And then I went back to walking and being lost in my thoughts, back into my grocery list, instead of basking in this inherent delight of my body that had come without my even forcing it. 

You see in that moment I realized that I didn’t need anything else to feel that life was a blessing, it was this feeling in my body. My body was a blessing that I was living my life in.

But years and years of deliberate hard work needed to happen for that moment to come. And the payoff? Two spontaneous seconds of gratitude. Doesn’t seem like a good payoff, does it… Kind of a pitiful return on investment, when you do the math.

But yet I persevere, because maybe tomorrow I can extend that to four seconds, four joyful steps. If I keep doing the work. 

So I want to ask the question: Is there something your are using exercise as a crutch for? Or to put it in other words, what is the current demand you’re feeling from life that you feel exercise can fulfill?

Is exercise just a means to an end? Or is done with the awareness that this is the disciplined action that needs to be taken because you can no longer deny how you body’s baggage, pain, stress, and lethargy are holding you back from a natural state of ease and celebration? Its a bit of a subtle distinction, but you can feel it if you tune in. 

For me (and maybe some of this will ring true for you as well) the demand I feel for my body is that I must keep working to understand it better, work to keep it pain free, keep it strong and resilient, and work to respect it.

I feel the demand that I practice loving and trusting my body more, and use my movement practice to actualize that, not to escape into exercising as a means shape my body to an image that society will recognize as acceptable. Sometimes this means the demand is to just REST (I’m feeling that demand for deliberate rest today…).

And I know that this demand is bigger than me.  As I do my work to support my body, peeling back the onion layers of strain, pain, injury, and all the times I failed to listen to it, I know I will be able to better understand and assist the bodies all whom I serve as a body mechanics detective.

The reality is that life is constantly going to knock us off course. And there is not one other area of life in which we don’t need our bodies to carry us. In our work, relationships, studies, leisure time… We need our body to show up for us, and the degree to which we can thrive in any other aspect of our lives cannot surpass the degree to which we’ve first attended to our body’s needs. 

So maybe you’d like to sit with these questions today:

What is the current demand you’re feeling from life that you feel your movement practice, or exercise program, can fulfill?

And how might you be using exercise as a crutch, a means to an end, or an escape? (what’s the hidden motive?)

Can you see a way in which this time spent tending to your body could manifest to support you in another area of life? 

How is developing mastery over your body going to help you live to your highest values, not distract you from them? 

Just my humble thoughts about physical mastery, for today.

On Physical Mastery #3: The Exercises Don’t Matter

The following is an expanded version of me talking shit a little meditation/reflection from one of the Zoom movement sessions I’ve been running for my clients and fellow movement explorers in this time of lockdown. I wonder if any of it will resonate for you? (~4 min read)

Let’s reflect on this today before we start moving:

You’ve shown up to this session because you must believe that there is something more your body can be for you, for you to live your life through, and there must be something more that you can be in this body you have.

Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up, would you? 

This is on of the first important insights to have, if we are on a journey of physical mastery. Which is the journey I am on. And I hope you are, too.

The first question is: What is this “more” for you and your body? And is that “more” an external result or image? Or is it an internal state?

Because if it is an internal state you’re after, then the exercises we do today don’t have much inherent meaning. Truly, it doesn’t matter if you’re doing Cross-Fit or Tai Chi, or COVID-19 Move with Monika sessions,  if you can hold yourself in such a way that your body is already everything it needs to be, and you are simply showing up to celebrate it.  

But if its an external state you’re striving for- getting out of pain, getting stronger, losing fat, more mobility- then the exercises, specific protocols, and metrics you follow must be very, very important, because these ideologies become a part of the greater image your are trying to secure for yourself, along with the physical goals.

When you strive for a result it becomes this whole “thing” that is no longer about you, but for seeking something outside yourself to reinforce the “I” you call yourself, currently. In this goal-striving state, there can be no transformation, just reinforcing what is already there. 

And then, as a safe-guard, if you don’t indeed get the goal, now you have something to blame: The exercises, the coach, the protocol. Its got nothing to do with you or any failure to execute. And the majority of us would rather live this way.  

But this is not the path of physical mastery that I’m hoping to point you towards. 

Do you follow what I’m saying? 

What I’m saying is how you hold yourself through this session, any movement session, is so much more important than the actual exercises we do. 

You need to exist as the internal state in which you already have every capacity to attain whatever external goal. Only then, when you are doing this for you, by you, not by anyone else’ standard, paradoxically, can you attain any goal with a degree of sustainability and ease.

The important thing is not the exercises, but what you bring to them. The YOU you bring to them. Your awareness. Your curiosity. Your self-respect. Your desire to transform.

I personally don’t place too much meaning on the exercises I teach. They are just tools for the journey. They’re not magical, but you can work your own magic through them.

 Putting the transformative power on an exercise takes that power away from you.

So let’s reflect:

What is it about yourself you want to feel different after we’re done? Who is that?

And know that if you have even caught the tiniest glimpse of who that is, it is because that part of you already exists, and is waiting to participate in today’s movement session. 

The internal state I’m talking about  is the deliberate connection to the YOU who is already enough, and who doesn’t need exercise either to prove it, or to make up for any shortcomings. Only in this internal state can you see how this any movement session can be a celebration of you and your body, not a penance. Not a thing to “make up for” this or that. 

So I’ll ask again… What is this “more” that you know you can have for you and your body? Is it an image you cling to? Or is it a state you can hold?

Does movement help you find that state? Or can you hold it even before you being to move? 

What is the part of you that is already enough, and can you let that part of you come forward in celebration today, as you move? 

Just some humble thoughts from your friendly neighbourhood body mechanics detective.

On Physical Mastery #2: What’s the f*&#!%g point?

The following is an expanded version of a little talk- a “meditation”- I gave to my students this week at the beginning of one of my virtual movement sessions, via the now ubiquitous Zoom.

Most of my life, my movement practice has been a spectator sport.

Gymnastics, dance, powerlifting, climbing, and even the most mundane work outs at the gym…. If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have done any of it without an audience. It all lacked intrinsic importance without witnesses to make it real.

Indeed, in many areas of life, it is doubtful that I’ll do the thing unless there’s someone else there to compare myself to in regards to how well I’m doing it.

The question of our time: If you do a workout and don’t post it on social media, did it even happen?

Because without spectators how would I know if I was good enough? How can I be the best at something with no one to judge me?

And now, with all the time and space of self-isolation, free from mirrors, free from spectators, free from the usual “out there” pressures to look and dress a certain way, I’ve been reflecting on what role movement truly plays in my life.

What does a movement practice look like with no bystanders as a reference to its existence? In other words…

If no ones watching what’s the point?

Well, I’m still moving, so I must have found a point, even if its just to self-indulgently write about it, here.

So I’ve found myself contemplating more deeply on what goals I actually have for my movement practice. Now that there is no excuse but for it to be a purely nourishing act for me, and not about using it to fit myself into the status quo, or seek recognition, or compete… What the heck am I doing?

Instead of asking, what are my fitness goals? I’m asking, what deeper goals do I have for me that movement can serve as a tool for on that journey?

What might I be using movement to escape from, living in isolation?

As I wrote about in my On Physical Mastery #1 blog post, I think its important to get clear on intention beyond the goal, and investigate the source of the goal. Is your goal even your own?

Most goals have been set for us, not by us, without our even knowing. Most goals are beliefs we’ve been converted to which reduce our ability to learn something new. Belief systems stymie experiencing the new, its a very efficient mechanism…

In any case, my existential question today is:

“if no one’s watching, and I exercise, and I can’t see myself in the mirror, and I have no goal, and I don’t post about it on Instagram, and no one else is even going to see me for the next month at least… What is the role of movement in my life?”

What’s the fucking point?

What am I hoping I’m going to get when I deliberately carve out the time to participate in the physical area of my life, through movement and exercise? 

Enter mastery.

In movement, as in every area of my life, the concept of mastery pops up. And I started thinking about it more deeply: What does it mean to develop physical mastery? 

Isn’t physical mastery the result of accomplishing your fitness goals?

On the contrary. I think physical results are a byproduct of mastery, not the source.

I think back to when I reached my goal of deadlifting 225lbs in 2014. It felt like mastery. Until the question arose: Now what? Until my body started hurting. Until I lost interest in powerlifting all together.

I did the thing…. Now what’s the point?

If I’m being honest, while I overtly stated (rather, convinced myself) that I was doing it because I was an empowered woman, I was really doing it to prove something to the world. To the ~80% male gym I worked in, that I could keep up. I recognize now that I was a victim of goal hijacking rooted in my needing to prove that I was enough through the outward expression of strength.

But anyway, here’s what I think physical mastery really is.

What is mastery in the physical area of life?

Physical mastery demands moving with complete awareness. Moving with attention and intention. Mastery is feeling empowered from within, not trying to exert power over your body, like it is a battle to win, or a problem to fix (like my deadlift goal). 

Mastery is enjoyment of your physical being. Not because it is already perfect, free from pain, or performing to peak efficiency, but despite its imperfections, you still find reason to delight in it. You find that taking ownership of your body’s true needs, not striving to live up to someone elses’ expectations for it, is an act of celebration. 

Mastery begins only when you cease to be blind to your physical reality- seeing the facts about your body- and deciding to act on what needs to be done. Instead of ignoring problems and exercising to numb out, mastery demands seeing your body as something to care for, not ignore the feeling of just to do what looks cool.

Mastery is cultivated in your curiosity to see how past injuries- those uninvestigated, ignored, overlooked, and untreated- are affecting us still, today. Mastery demands moving beyond ignorance, wanting to understand how your body got to the state its in now. Tracking how everything you’ve done up until right now is reflected in the way your body looks, functions, and feels. You see the cause and effect, and you see you can choose to be unaffected, should you accept the challenge. In mastery you see your imperfect state not as being helpless and fixed, but as untapped potential.

Mastery is not pushing through pain, but bowing to it and doing what needs to be done, even if that means doing much less, or much more, or something completely different.

Mastery is choosing not to be lazy, but choosing to engage. Mastery begets an awareness that when you are doing what is right for your body, it is right for your mind, your spirit, for every other area of your life, and for everyone else in your life. 

Mastery transcends getting out of pain, or performing better at a sport, or improving your posture, or losing weight, or getting stronger. But you can tell you’re moving into mastery when these results come simply as a byproduct of doing something for you because you care about you, free from influence of anyone’s judgements, philosophies, techniques, or ideas.

Mastery is when your goals are your own, not hijacked by society, your parents, your friend group, or your yoga instructor (or me…).

Mastery is the ongoing, loving inquiry: What more can my body be for me? What is getting in the way of realizing this? What obstacles might I be blind to? Is the trajectory I’m on meaningful, enjoyable, sustainable, and healthy?

Mastery is not giving up on yourself. Even when you make mistakes, you can do nothing wrong- Either you make the immediately useful choice, or you learn something important. You see your body as a self-correcting mechanism. When you are not on a path of mastery, your body will let you know. Pain, fatigue, injuries are all signposts pointing out lessons we need to learn, helping us get back on course. Mastery is learning to listen and look for the signs.

Mastery is a never ending journey, not a location on a map. It doesn’t cumulate with the attainment of a result. It doesn’t mean I can ever stop working on my body, but is alive in the recognition that my work is never done. And yet I take delight in working anyway.

Chop wood, carry water.

So what’s the point of a movement practice in isolation?

To celebrate having a body. And celebration requires no witness. To come this place of self-delight demands a degree of physical mastery.

So, perhaps you’d like to take a moment before the next time you move and reflect on this:

How are you embodying physical mastery, right now?

And how might you be avoiding it to maintain a sense of comfort and familiarity?

What small shift needs to be made, could you make, in your physical practice, today, to embody physical mastery?

On Physical Mastery #1: Moving Beyond Conditioning

The following is a thing I wrote as part of a new series of reflections called: On Physical Mastery. (Oh, and I don’t mean “conditioning” as in energy systems, In case anyone’s mind went there. Pun sort of intended…)

I’d like to share my humble thoughts on having physical and fitness goals in this time of pandemic (although I was thinking these things pre-COVID, they seem especially relevant now).

Have you noticed? The government is telling us what our fitness goals should be, and how we should achieve them.

This isn’t really anything new. From the food pyramid, to Body Break (with Hal Johnson and Joanne Mcleod!), society has been telling us what we are supposed to do with our bodies. What appropriate goals should be.

If you’ve read anything in the news lately, the latest “should” is that, despite the call the stay at home, we must keep exercising for our health right now.

And I don’t disagree.

I am happy that in this global health crisis, our collective, primary reason to exercise has deepened. I can see a shift from shallowly chasing a “fit body”, aesthetics-based, physical norm, to authorities encouraging us to “move because your health depends on it”. It is even being acknowledged that movement and exercise are necessary for our mental health. This is amazing.

But there’s still something insidious to be aware of… We’re still being told why we should exercise, and we’re not questioning it.

Society, the government, is still exercising influence over our beliefs about what we do with our bodies. Just that the form in which it is doing so has changed. However, whenever there is an outside source guiding what we should do with our bodies, when we’re not aware that our decisions are not our own, no matter how benign or in our interest it may seem, we cannot truly, honestly be in touch with who we really are

I hate to break it to you, but your- all of our- physical goals have been hijacked. It just seems a little less in our face right now because it feels like the suggestion is coming from a caring place. Maybe the government does care. True or hidden motives aside, that’s missing the point.

The point isn’t whether or not the recommendation is useful, it is whether or not it bubbled up from a well-spring of truth from deep inside you, or it was dumped on your head from a 3rd floor window.

You see, I struggle with this. My conditioning for a long time has been to believe that exercise is important because one should not get fat. Exercise builds discipline and character (more like stubbornness and rigidity…). Healthy, beautiful people exercise regularly, intensely, and often. Exercise is a moral decision- it simply makes you a better person. This is what I was taught in my family of origin.

I reckon with this conditioning everyday. It rules more than just the physical area of my life. If I’m paying attention, it permeates every decision I make.

Yet I know a deeper truth. If I look at what it means to rise above the “shoulds” I learned, its almost as if I don’t know what to do with my body. Up until recently, I’d never examined if my goals and intentions for exercise were mine- something working through me- or if they’ve been hijacked by someone else- something I was working through.

If you look you will see how many of your physical goals can be traced back to another person or an institution, who taught you “this is what exercise is for”. And they may have had incentive for you to believe in them that were not in your best interest (if best interest means your well-being, freedom, and vitality).

I’m not saying that we should rebel against the government’s suggestions and not exercise daily. I wholeheartedly think we should!

And i’m not rebelling against my parents’ beliefs that staying lean and building discipline are good reasons to exercise, because leanness and discipline are components of health and vitality.

My point is simply that these beliefs need to be investigated. Are they true for me? And is the way I’m acting them out truly serving me?

And I think at the core of it, when I strip away everything I’ve ever been taught about exercise, and tune in to what is important for me, the role for movement in my life is more than health and fitness. More than strength and looks. It’s to keep me grounded. To keep me balanced. To keep me present in my physical home. Its to keep my brain healthy as much as my body. Anything else, any other result I attain, is a byproduct. 

If you feel aimless without a clearly defined goal, you might scroll through Instagram to find one, but you’ll only find yourself hijacked.

Is being present with your body enough? Or does exercise need to be a means to an end? Ask yourself, to whom does that end serve? Is it you? Or is it someone else you’re aiming to please? 

So yes, do exercise for your health. But do it for you because you care about you.

And yes, exercise because it keeps you lean and strong, but don’t do it mindlessly like a hamster on a wheel. Can you find a way to engage with exercise such that the physical result you achieve is simply the byproduct of cultivating a state of mind in which presence, celebration, and kindness to your body are the goal itself?

Don’t just chase a result because that’s what everyone else is doing. Engage with your body with reverence for its brilliance, and you will be amazed at the result- the inner vitality- that naturally unfolds. 

But how do you know if your goal is your own, or you’ve been hikacked? Its not always easy to tell… It takes a desire to see reality as it is.

But you can start like this:

Before each time you step out for a walk, or lie on your yoga mat, or strap on your jogging shoes, or lift those heavy ass weights, ask yourself:

What is the source of the goals you have for your body? Are they your own? Or are they hand-me-downs from your family? Your friend? Our society’s standards for health, beauty, and fitness?

Ask: Is your routine an act of reverence for your body? Or are you chasing a result that you were taught somewhere was the “ideal”, but which could be keeping you stuck in a repetitive pattern. Rigid in your thinking as much as your body’s potential for movement.

And then simply try out how it might feel to have no goal other than to celebrate being in your body. Just see what comes up, spontaneously, from the intent for complete presence. No ulterior motive. No agenda. Nothing to gain, and nothing to lose.

Just a humble reflection from the mind of a human who struggles everyday to understand, “what is reality?”.

Movement Practice (part 7): Movements Within Movement

What is movement practice?

Up until now we have been discussing peoples’ common attitudes towards movement and exercise through the use of archetypes and by clarifying some commonly used (or dare I say, misused) terms pertaining to movement practice. I’d like now to switch gears slightly to take a closer look at what I mean conceptually by movement practice, and then further along in this work, why it is important to investigate the form yours takes and your relationship with it.

Double-edged sword

We live in an interesting time in which the sharing and ingesting of information is ludicrously easy, probably to the point which it is making us less good learners (a topic for another sort of essay). With this ease of sharing of information- both of the practical and educational variety, but sometimes also the useless and intimate details of the personal lives of our distant acquaintances and what they had for #healthydinner last night- people are more health conscious than ever. In the time it takes to type in a sentence into Google, or your credit card number to Amazon Prime, you can have access to a plethora of websites, books, and other resources teaching how to be healthier. This heightened health-consciousness, however, comes with a double edge. On the one side, we have an increase in awareness of the benefits of making more time for movement and exercise in our lives. On the other side there risksbeing too much information, misinformation, and the lure to compare ourselves to the others.

As one of my favourite ballet teachers said countless times, “where your attention goes, energy flows”.  For those of us who want to include more movement in our lives as part of a healthy lifestyle plan, this abundance of information makes this both an amazing, and yet confusing and challenging time in which we must choose where we want to focus our attention, and discipline ourselves to have a healthy, pragmatic relationship with the information we ingest (and this includes the words I write, too). 

This idea of sifting through the rubbish, separating the wheat from the chaff, seems like as good a place as any to start to conceptualize a movement practice. Let’s bring our attention now to the mass of information that tells us what we should do, what is best for us, while remembering that “they” can’t possibly know what is best for you. I certainly don’t. “The others” don’t. It’s only you who can know, and don’t you know it already how difficult it is to interpret the information coming from your own body, let alone trust someone else to do it for you. 

Movements and markets within movement

As I’ve mentioned, there is an abundance of information and a surging awareness of the world of health and fitness. Inspiration to move (or, more colloquially, “fit-spiration”, another double-edged sword, which I feel, more often than not, serves to activate our body-image based shame-triggers than provide actual inspiration) exists just a click away. New vocabularies are developing around movement culture and people are latching onto identifiers for their movement and exercise philosophies. We are seeing the advent of “movements” in peoples’ movement practices.

A movement “movement” is seen by us as a new paradigm for organizing how we perform movements and exercise. A system with its own sense of purpose, ideals, and goals. People are drawn to these movements because something about the look and feel of it seems to resonate with them. There is a perceived congruence in the underlying beliefs and goals that both the individual and the movement hold. Often, identifying with a movement (both in movement practices and in other areas of life, such as the intellectual, political, or spiritual) can bring a great sense of meaning and purpose, helping to create a sustainability effect that is necessary for a life-long, pleasurable relationship with the movement practice. If you hate it and don’t find fulfillment in your movement practice, you won’t stick with it long enough to reap its benefits, which is why “enjoyable” is one of the three tenets of a movement practice that I keep repeating (the other two being fulfilling and healthy). 

Sometimes this relationship with a movement is not so healthy. Some movements can be cultish. Some movements are well-intentioned but poorly led, leading to misinformation and injury (Cross-Fit often gets flack for this). Sometimes there are movement wars and clashes, debating which one is better than the other: Marathon running vs high-intensity -interval training; powerlifting vs weightlifting (and you’ll find some nasty, useless, and time-wasting exchanges in online forums, of which I personally have no interest in engaging with). Sometimes we’re drawn to movements for the wrong reasons, like that we’re physically attracted to one of its founding leaders, and confuse this for a congruence with our goals. Latching ignorantly onto a movement is another double edged sword of the movement practice exploration.

There is also the irresistible lure to the new and shiny. Ironically, while the advent of a “new” movement can seem like a groundbreaking, sophisticated, or “high-tech” (our interpretation: better) way of interacting with our bodies, many of these movements are only building upon or repackaging something intrinsic to us that already exists, and has always existed, but just that we forgot was there and needed to create a new way of experiencing it again. Some are more or less sensible than others, more or less in line with your individual goals than others, but what all these movements within movement have in common is something atavistic. Something sacred and primal.

As I see it, this is the need to connect with our bodies, use them in the various ways made possible to us by virtue of the miracle of our skeletal structure. Its to delight in the receiving of the inputs of the world around us through the sensory and motor receptors in our joints, and the skin on the soles of our feet and hands (and other body parts should we choose to accept the challenge to get down on the ground and roll around). And of utmost importance, a movement gives us the chance to be a part of a community of similarly minded individuals with whom we feel safe and accepted by. I say this is of utmost importance because the very part of our central nervous system that allows us to have safe, enjoyable social engagement (feelings of love and belonging) is the same aspect of it that also mediates the immune system, digestion, the heart, the respiratory system, our hearing, and everything else related to our systems’ homeostasis, health, growth, and restoration (parasympathetic nervous system function).

A good example of one such movement that has become well-known to the general public in the past decade is the barefoot movement, including the advent of those goofy looking Five Finger shoes (of which I admit I had a pair back in 2013), and barefoot running (which opens up a whole can of worms in the running world, asking the question, “which running technique is best? Forefoot or heel strike?”. And the answer is, in short, it depends. But for the long answer, I implore you to read the book Even With Your Shoes On, by the running coach and fellow Anatomy in Motion practitioner, Helen Hall). But to call the barefoot movement a “new” movement is not accurate. Before we had shoes all the human race knew was barefoot living. I can only theorize that some ancient part of us recognizes the value in feeling the sensitive skin on the bottoms of our feet interacting with the grass and dirt, in allowing the bones and muscles of the foot to adapt to the naturally soft ground with variable terrain and textures. It is unfortunate that, for city dwellers like me, the only readily available option is the hard, linear concrete walkways which are not so kind for barefoot walking.

What is good about the barefoot movement is that it is a reminder of how healthy it is for us to go out into the woods and be on natural terrain: It holds the ability to connect us both with ourselves and with nature, two things crucial for our health. What is not so good is how people misinterpret “barefoot good” as “barefoot everything, even stuff I’ve never done before but will now start to do for the first time with no shoes, is the best, and running barefoot on the concrete builds character even though it really hurts, but I have to do it because some guy online wrote about how great it was.”

In both movement and the human structure, there is nothing new, just depth and breadth to explore, and the addition of scientific evidence intellectualizing of the human experience of movement, which may or may not even be necessary for us to get out of it what we need: Health, fulfillment, enjoyment, and human connection (with ourselves and others).

The commoditization movement

While there are countless examples of movements like the barefoot movement, aiming to reconnect us with something primal and intrinsic to us that we’ve forgotten was important, there is a shadow side that I do not see at all as a healthy revival of primal movement culture. This is the ever burgeoning trendy, niche, consumer fitness classes, which are primarily marketed towards women (for whom the research shows are particularly susceptible to feeling shame around their physical appearance, making them more likely to buy into such marketing).

Stay tuned…

In the next installment of this Movement Practice monster-essay I’d like to further discuss the perils of commoditizing and marketing of movement we see today, and the consumer mentality that can cause the unaware to treat movement as an item to buy and own to show off, fit in, or as a band-aid solution to deeper, unexamined problems, rather than as a gift we already possess, waiting for us to unwrap.

Movement Practice (part 6): The Challenges of Talking About Movement

If you are still reading this series, I really appreciate you! I don’t know exactly where this is going, but what I know for sure is that I’m not anywhere close to being finished… Thanks for reading this far.

Beyond Archetypes

In parts one through five (see all Movement Practice chapters HERE) I used archetypes as a metaphor for the various ways people think about, talk about, and act out movement. In exploring this intersection between who people are and how they interact with movement and exercise, we’ve set the stage for the meat of the conversation to follow: What is a movement practice? How is this different than exercise? And, with the assumption that having a movement practice is important, how do we go about creating one that has meaning and use for us?

Speaking of Movement…

My very attempt at writing this may be a fool’s task. Alas, movement is not a medium for which a deep understanding can come through talking about it. Words are poor vessels to help us understand something like movement that is, by its very nature, meant to be embodied and experienced, through our physical structures.

Indeed, as I sat down to write about why this thing in my life and the lives of many called a “movement practice” is important, and what it means to me, I realized that I had a concept, but not the concise words to communicate it (a recurring theme in my life, for the record). 

Up until this point I was operating on vague feeling- That a movement practice feels different than a workout, exercise, or physical activity. That the women’s fitness chain Curves’ curcuit workout has different “vibe” to it and attracts a different archetype than a traditional Sivananda yoga class, for example.  

I think this subjective feeling is worth identifying more clearly, and in this chapter I will begin the investigation of the words that help to describe the quality of these relationships between mind, body, and movement I call movement practice.

Moving Into Understanding

There are many who, like myself in my “then”, can’t quite describe why their physical situations feel saturated with a sense of lack (of purpose, goals, or meaning), or are indescribably stressful, painful, or monotonous. In fact, many people I work with have initially come to me with the sense that there is something “more” they need, or that something is missing in their lives, usually relating to their bodies and their health, that they can get through movement.

Movement, not words, can be the hand to reach out and turn the doorknob of the door of understanding, behind which we can discover what’s currently missing from us. Where words can fail and confuse us, movement speaks to us on a visceral level. It connects us with a physical feeling, an undertone that we can then put words to. This is why somatic therapeutic practices (like Somatic Experiencing® and Somato-Emotional Release® for example), can be so helpful for individuals with mental health issues. 

Think of words as signposts pointing to something greater, beyond the words themselves, for us to examine. For you, the reader, my hopes is that my words may challenge your current belief systems and habits around movement. That by identifying with an archetype, your relationship with movement becomes articulated to you beyond a “vibe”. 

The rest of this chapter will define several core terms that I feel to be important for this discussion. I found the definitions from the dictionary to be insufficient for our discussion around movement, and that it was necessary to inquire into the words’ meaning more deeply in this context (as The Transcender knows, context changes everything). 

The following words (signposts) are relevant for the chapters to follow, and I suggest you get acquainted with them.

Movement

The dictionary says:

  • An act of changing physical location or position or of having this changed. A change or development in something.

I am writing this primarily with the movement of our bodies in mind, but think like The Transcender for a moment. Movement isn’t limited to the physical motion of our bodies. Movement is change. In location, position, or in a thing itself. Your internal environment changing. The environment around you changing. Movement is you developing, for better or worse. Movement is forwards, backwards, and sideways. Three (or more) dimensions. Movement requires reference points to observe a change, and thus must be a relationship between two or more objects or phenomena.

Exercise can be movement in many senses of the word, but not all movement is exercise. Likewise, not all exercise is development. Not all exercise can be seen as a relationship like movement must be.

I want to suggest that we think of movement in this broader sense as trajectory, change, development, and relationship. In doing so we can see how movement is inclusive of more elements than the physical movement we consciously do with our bodies when we workout or play a sport.

A movement practice, by this line of thinking, can include things such as I am doing right now: Periods of stillness, introspection, and the act of sitting down to write. In the words of Greek philosopher Heraclitus, all things are flux- Movement permeates and relate to all areas of our inner and outer lives. 

Exercise

The dictionary says:

  • Activity requiring physical effort, carried out especially to sustain or improve health and fitness. A process, task, or activity carried out for a specific purpose, especially one concerned with a specified area or skill.
  • To use or apply.
  • Occupy the thoughts of; worry or perplex.

As previously mentioned, exercise is movement, but not all movement is exercise. An exercise can be skilled practice, skilled practice can be exercise, but exercise is not skilled practice. These distinctions are part of what I like to call the movement/exercise/practice fallacy. (There’s nothing I like more than clarifying distinctions between similar terms and discovering fallacies by which we live.)

To be clear, when I compare exercise and movement I don’t want to demonize exercise and put movement on a pedestal. Exercise is an important component of a movement practice, which is why I don’t like to see the two lumped together to rot in the compost heap of misunderstood words.

While for many, such as The Exerciser archetype, exercise can be a detriment, obsessive and unhealthy. Yet for others exercise is a valuable, healthy experience. Exercise can be done with the beneficial intention to improve one’s health, strength, or endurance, even while consciously being aware of not enjoying the physical act of it (such as wind sprints, unless you happen to be a masochistic type). We can be aware that we are exercising only to get something out of it, know that we aren’t being present while doing it, and still gain from it.

Or we can exercise unaware that our mind is in a place of should-be, insufficiency, and self punishment (again, often the case for The Exerciser). The dictate of how reciprocal of health our trajectory becomes is our own awareness of how and what we are using exercise for. There is no end to fitness trends marketed towards The Exerciser with this every intention- Providing an means to buy an experience in which people can tune out from their bodies together, feeding off of each others’ perceived need to be and look like someone their not. To fit in with the “good people” with their “good bodies”, and make up for unhealthy habits. Spinning classes, Cross-Fit, and F45 are just some potential examples of this.

We must also distinguish between an exercise (the noun), and exercise (the verb). An exercise by definition is something in the realm of practice, whereas exercise is something we normally do without the mindset of practice.

Lastly, it is interesting to note the latter two definitions of the word from above. We can use exercise in a way that we are in it to get something out of it, and so too can we be exercised- Stressed, worried, slowly ground down. We can be exercised by our improper use of exercise, which often paves the path of demise for The Exerciser and Over-Identifier.

Exercise and movement have an important relationship both with each other in the space of a movement practice, and with ourselves in the space of our lives. How these aspects of a movement practice interact with each other and impact on you, the user, doer, practitioner, define how healthy and useful it will be for you.

Practice

The dictionary says:

  • The actual application or use of an idea, belief, or method as opposed to theories about such application or use.
  • The customary, habitual, or expected procedure of something. The carrying out or exercise of a profession.
  • Repeated exercise in or performance of an activity or skill so as to acquire or maintain proficiency in it.

Love isn’t the only thing that gets to be a triangle. We can identify three sides of practice:

1) The actual doing of a thing (versus the talking or thinking about a thing).
2) The doing of a thing as a rote, habitual, expected thing to do, to get something out of it, often with little awareness of the impact it may be having in the moment and on the future forecast.
3) The deep practice of a thing that results in a flow state, development of some aspect of self, with the intention of mastery of a skill.

When we talk about a movement practice, type 1 is always implied (or it would be a movement idea or thought- Still movement in terms of changing patterns of neurons, but neglecting the action on the thought that is requisite for the fully fledged physical movement practice we’re speaking of). A defining factor in the quality, meaning, or use of a movement practice is due in part to whether the core intention is type 2 or 3. 

Are you type 2: going through the motions, doing it because you feel you should be as an expectation of your peer group or an authority figure? Or are you type 3: your goal is to practice, to develop a skill, to learn and experience flow?

Neither is right or wrong, and each type has its place within a movement practice. We need to know more about the context and the individual to say which type of practice is appropriate for the person at this moment in time. 

Relationship

  • The way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected.
  • The way in which two or more people or organizations regard and behave toward each other.

As previously mentioned, there can be no measurable movement unless we are comparing two objects, people, or phenomena with each other. We need reference points to define the relationship of two bodies in terms of position, location, speed, velocity, etc. As a Complementarian knows, nothing can be understood on its own, without context. And so we cannot speak of physical movement without discussing it as a relationship between two or more things.

As an experiment, just for fun, try for an entire day to use the word movement instead of relationship. The movement between two friends, partners, or family members. Perhaps we have so many challenges with relationships because we think of them as static entities, when in fact it is more like the planets orbiting around the sun- Sometimes moving together, sometimes apart, ebbing and flowing, each with their own trajectory while being impacted on by the gravity of the other.

The relationships I am interested in investigating are the ones we have with movement and exercise, and the connection between movement and exercise themselves (as already alluded). How we regard and behave towards them. How was can become attached to them. How this relationship changes with time. How the quality of this relationship and our perception of it impact on our lives and our health. I think these are questions worth exploring.

Interaction

  • Reciprocal action or influence.

Physicist Carlo Ravelli, author of Seven Brief Lessons on Physics believes that all reality is interaction. That the human self is a “huge wave of happenings”. He says in a radio interview with On Being‘s Krista Tippett:

“…we do understand the world better, not in terms of things but in terms of interaction between things and how things interact with one another, even in biology. We understand biology in terms of evolution, how things change… We understand the antelope because there is a lion and the lion because there is antelope. We don’t understand them in isolation”. 

Bruce Hood, author of The Self Illusion, a lovely book on the neuroscience of self (or the lack thereof), communicates through his research how our sense of self is only possible because of the interactions and  experiences.  Our identities are inextricable from our surroundings- people, places, and things that formed who we are and will be since we had sufficient capacity to retain memories. “Self” is the sum of the interactions between other people and our material possessions in our lives up until now. He goes on to explain that, “The emergence of self is epigenetic- an interaction of the genes in the environment… In a sense, who we really are comes down to those around us”.

I find these views on interaction go beyond the definition from the dictionary of reciprocal action or influence and express how interaction it is the very landscape of our existence.

To appreciate movement and exercise and their place in our lives therefore it is important to investigate the nature of the interaction both between the two and ourselves. Movement is a “happening”, ever changing, un-fixable in time and space, and we cannot understand it as a thing we study under a microscope, but as the interaction that is a defining feature of what movement is.

Healthy

  • Not diseased.
  • Indicative of, conducive to, or promoting good health.
  • Normal, natural, and desirable.

If the definition of “healthy” refers to promoting good health, then we also must understand what is “good health”? I feel good health is more than the absence of disease and illness, although this is how it is commonly defined (at a detriment to our conventional medical system).

According to the pioneering functional medicine doctor Mark Hyman, “disease arises from an imbalance in the system”. If the opposite is true, then health must arise as a result of a balanced system. In an interview, Dr. Hyman uses the metaphor of a farmer tending to soil quality to produce a healthy crop. Working with the system versus treating a symptom. He describes his goal as a doctor as”creating health”, not treating disease. Working with the ecosystem in an integrated way. In his description of functional medicine he says, “We’re actually taking care of the soil so disease can’t actually occur, or it goes away as a side effect of creating health”.

A system with intact homeostasis, resiliency to stressors; “healthy” is more than the absence of symptoms. We know that it is possible to have a disease that can be dormant for years, unbeknownst to us, yet we feel “healthy”, or “normal”, until we start experiencing symptoms indicative of the later stages of the condition. By this point, we are often too late to effectively treat many illnesses.

Nor do I feel that “normal” or “natural” are descriptive of what healthy is. Especially in our current world state in which what we consider normal is for human beings to cope, numb, and distract ourselves from ill health, physically and mentally, as the average, acceptable way of life.

As one of my clients put it to me as we reflected on her progress over a year’s work with her body, “The thing that blows my mind is that the feeling of unease and tightness used to be my ‘normal’. It was a constant I was unaware was holding me back from being more active and feeling more joy in my life”. If healthy is normal, yet normal is to be ignorantly unhealthy, what is health?

We can say “health is homeostasis”, but what does this feel like? To put put it more poetically, more subjectively, good health feels like the awakening to our potential. Stepping in our own power. Thriving and flourishing, not merely disease free. Health manifests as feeling like energetic and passionate participants in our lives. Good health feels like waking up inspired to interact with our priorities. 

 

Because I am unsatisfied with the current dictionary definition, I would like to add to it. Healthy is not simply the absence of disease, but a state of flourishing, optimal balanced function of all systems in a living organism; efficient homeostasis allowing for an individual to experience a complete spectrum of mental and physical interactions available to them.

“Healthy” can also refer to a relationship or interaction, not a living thing, and we can use a similar definition: A healthy interaction or relationship is one that affords for the individuals and things involved to flourish, be in balanced coexistence, etc.

Integrated

  • With various parts or aspects linked or coordinated. Combine (one thing) with another so that they become a whole.

For our purposes, integrated refers to a way of interacting with movement and exercise. We can integrate it with or isolate it from the other areas of our lives. We can have it as a thing we consider separately from us, or we can see us and movement combined as a whole, see how movement and our relationship with it is linked to how we interact with the other realms of life.

The rest of this work will focus on how to move in a direction of a healthy, integrated relationship with movement: The Integrator’s way of living. That being said, I don’t believe that everyone should aspire to be The Integrator archetype. We need to consider context. Consider what is now serving you in your current context, and what would happen if we took away this source of comfort or stability- your habits, behaviours, attitudes. How ready would you be to adapt? 

Thus, to integrate is my perceived ideal, but it may be a graded process, a journey, to that goal, one which you may never fully reach. Integration is not a destination or a fixed state, it is a path.

Part of the path of integrating is also the understanding that inherent in it is the necessity for things to first be deconstructed, broken apart, and isolated in order to understand them better, before reconnecting them more healthily. 

At the end of the day, its not whether you successfully became an Integrator that will dictate the quality of your life, health, and well-being (things we have a hard time defining in absolute terms anyway), but who you were in that process. How you showed up to the challenges, interacted with the “huge wave of happenings”.