Are you missing important movement vitamins?

I recently read–and loved the crap out of–a book called Movement Matters by biomechanist Katy Bowman. When you’re done with this post, I highly recommend:

  1. Checking out her books.
  2. Checking out her blog and her podcast. (Bonus: Listening to the podcast while you move.)
  3. Checking out her videos. I bought Nutritious Movement for a Healthy Pelvis and it’s fab-u-lous.

But first, let’s talk about movement vitamins, a phrase I picked up from Bowman. Most of us are familiar with the idea of eating a variety of foods as a way to increase our chances of getting the diversity of macronutrients and the vitamins and minerals we need. If you only eat bananas, your body would be very sad. And by “sad” I mean “totally deficient in a whole bunch of super important nutrients that support life.”

In the same way, it’s possible to have a movement diet that is higher or lower on the diversity scale. Many of us think about movement mainly in the context of exercise (and possibly in the context of feeling bad that we’re not getting enough). So, as long as we’re hitting the gym a few times a week for an hour, or whatever our personal goal is, we can check movement off our list.

Bowman brings up two ideas that turn this thinking on its head. One, if you look at how much “couch potatoes” move versus how much regular exercisers move as a percentage of total time in a week, the numbers aren’t that different. Even if you’re working out an hour every single day, that’s still only 4% of your week spent moving.

And two, when we do work out we often stick to the same things. For me, that’s usually yoga and hiking. For you it might be biking. Or swimming. Or treadmilling. The point is, when we engage in pretty predictable movements, we’re moving pretty predictable parts of our body in pretty predictable ways, and this can lead to areas of our body that are rarely, if ever, moved.

Movement is a requirement for health, even down to the cellular level, so if, for example, you wear shoes that allow for very little foot movement, you now have areas of your foot–specific joints, for example, of which your foot has many–that pretty much never move. Same is true even if you’re walking around barefoot but you’re always walking on, say, asphalt or flat trails.

The point is, just like we can’t survive on a diet of bananas, our bodies need a diversity of movement, and all of the parts of our body, not just the predictable chunks, like our abs or our biceps, need a wide range of movement.

Now, when I learned this my first reaction was, well, hellwhat’s the point of exercising then? After my temper tantrum had run its course, though, I realized that there are many reasons to continue exercising (it feels great, I can do it with people I love and build community while I move, etc), and just as importantly, getting more movement vitamins doesn’t mean not exercising. It simply means looking at my entire day as an opportunity to move, not just the hour I spend in yoga class.

For example, I can squat while I read a blog post instead of sitting at my desk, I can do a silly walk around my apartment while I brush my teeth, I can climb a tree while I’m out hiking, I can hang from the monkey bars at the park–in short, I can consciously inject a variety of movements into my daily routine, in the same way that I consciously choose to eat more foods besides bananas.

I want to leave you with two takeaways:

    1. A blog post from Bowman, “13 Ways to Make Your Walk More Nutritious” that will help you up your movement diversity in simple ways.
    2. A super short (less than two minutes) video from Tom Myers, one of my bodywork idols, about the importance of varied movement:

How to be a Light Worker When You’re Pissed

I was flipping through one of my old journals when I came across an entry that really grabbed me. I’d been struggling with anger toward one of my parents at the time, and in my journal, I wrote that even though I knew the anger was detrimental to my well being and was fueling self-destructive behaviors, it was hard to let it go.

I had a subconscious belief running in the background like a tired, old soundtrack that said, “If you stop being angry, you’re saying that what your parent did was okay.”

And this insight wasn’t necessarily anything new. I’ve known for awhile that a major roadblock to forgiveness is equating forgiveness with condoning someone’s behavior, when, in fact, the two are quite distinct. You forgive in order to free yourself. Forgiveness is not the same as condoning past hurtful behavior, nor is it an invitation for future hurtful behavior.

Even so, something was keeping me stuck.

It took hearing about an acquaintance’s work drama to flip the switch for me. The situation was this: “Karen” was in a supervisory position over “Pete,” and for months, the two had been engaging in a power tug o’ war. Pete procrastinated on work projects, and Karen ripped him a new one every chance she got. From the outside, coworkers were wondering 1) Pete’s a smart guy–why on earth doesn’t he just get his stuff done on time to prevent the bi-weekly blowouts? and 2) Why doesn’t Karen find a more productive way of dealing with Pete because this strategy clearly isn’t working?

Both very good questions. Where my interest lies, though, is in Pete’s situation, because this is one that I’ve found myself in many times with my family. As an adult, I’d find myself doing things that felt like Teenage Me rebelling, and even though they made little to no sense in the current situation, it was hard to stop.

Why? Well, there are many reasons, of course, but here’s a juicy one: I wanted to prove that my parent was “bad,” and one way I could do that was through triggering their bad behavior by deliberately doing things I knew would set them off. As a kid, I imagine that a big part of my subconscious motivation was that I needed help. I was no match for my parent’s domineering anger, but perhaps if I could trigger them to act out, someone who could stand up to them, like a teacher or a relative, would see how bad things really were and come to my rescue.

As a kid with limited options and life skills, this made sense. As an adult, however, there are far better ways to get my needs met, and provoking bad behavior in the hopes of dragging other people to my rescue is far from a good strategy. In Pete’s case, this tactic is leading him down the road to termination, and I can bet that Karen isn’t going to be the one who feels punished in that scenario. Pete is punishing himself.

What Can We Do?

One of the most transformative steps for me is recognizing what my needs are. Until I know what I need, it’s hard to consciously choose healthy ways of getting those needs met, something I’ve written about extensively in the past.

If you find yourself reacting on autopilot (which sometimes takes the form of chronic complaining), use this as an opportunity to press the pause button and take stock.

What do you want from this situation?

What do you need in this situation in order to feel [safe, supported, etc]?

And the question for the win: How can you take responsibility for getting those needs met?

This doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help; sometimes taking responsibility for our needs means asking for support from the right people (i.e. people who are actually in a position to support us and who are willing to do so).

And even if getting our needs met does involve other people, it inevitably circles back to us. We must be meeting our own needs before the support of others can have a significant impact. If we’re not supporting ourselves, other people’s efforts to support us are either rejected or they’re never enough–we just need more and more to feel okay.

When we start by supporting ourselves, which might look like establishing healthy boundaries, getting a massage, validating our feelings, and other forms of self-care, the support of others is like the cherry on top. We’re not desperately relying on it to feel okay, but it sure is nice to receive.

When we get clear on what we need and want, we can go about getting those needs and wants met in the light of consciousness, rather than taking a back alley through the subconscious, resulting in behavior that’s baffling even to ourselves.

In New Age circles, there’s a lot of talk about being a Light Worker. If you ask me, more so than putting a positive spin on everything and keeping it “light,” this is one of the Light Worker’s primary tasks: To bring the heavy stuff out of our closets into the light of consciousness so we can forge ahead with mindful awareness.

Who’s with me?

Feeling Imbalanced? Try This.

My yoga teacher said something in class today that really made me think. We were prepping for standing bow pose, which looks like this (image source):

Before you get into the pose on the far right, it’s helpful to find your balance in various intermediate poses, like the ones on the left.

My teacher explained, “We often don’t take the time to first find our balance before asking our bodies to move.” Word.

On and off the mat, how often do we charge ahead before we’ve caught our breath or found our balance?

Oftentimes, when we find ourselves feeling imbalanced, whether that be physically, emotionally, or otherwise, we immediately seek to rectify it by any means available. Imbalance triggers fear of the unknown–we’re not sure where we stand, and we don’t like it. We might also feel ashamed that we’re not perfectly poised, so we try to rush on to step five to cover up the fact that we’re not on sure footing with step one yet.

It’s tempting to think we can just skip the foundation and bypass straight to the happy ending with rainbows and cupcakes, but getting up close and personal with the areas where we feel imbalanced has so much to teach us.

Here’s an example. Since graduating from massage school, I’ve been working to develop new skills in areas beyond the scope of my school program, and recently, I hit a wall with my self-study. I felt like my efforts weren’t having an appreciable impact on my skills and I was feeling discouraged, which led to less confidence in sessions and procrastinating with my studies.

Enter, this book:

I was reading it for an entirely different reason–not to improve my massage skills–but about halfway through a chapter on visual processing, I felt inspired to start drawing, and I decided to use my massage study ennui as the focus. Woah, baby, am I ever glad I did.

A stack of paper and a crowd of jaunty little stick figures later, I realized that I had a knowledge gap that was draining away my motivation: Specifically, I have a lot of massage facts, techniques, and other information in my brain, but I sometimes struggle with knowing when to use what, which then leads to sticking with the same old tried and true out of fear.

This became clear while I was mapping out a list of resources for each study area and, if you look in the bottom right corner, I was left with nothing but a big ol’ question mark for the “know when to apply” section:

I then asked my husband, who’s a paramedic, “How in the world do you take all of your medical knowledge and know what to apply when?” He immediately replied, “Oh, there’s the something-something protocol. They drill it into us in school.”

A protocol. Duh. Surprisingly, we’d never learned anything like that in school, so my knowledge gap makes sense.

What does this have to do with imbalance? Well, one of the things preventing me from seeing this gap (and thus being able to address it) was my fear of truly looking imbalance in the face because I was afraid of what I might find. Some of my ego’s many distractions to stall me from getting curious about the imbalance included:

  • Shame: “You should already know this. What’s wrong with you?”
  • Perfectionism: “You need to know how to do all of this perfectly…by tomorrow.” Hello, overwhelm (followed immediately by defensive procrastination).
  • Denial: “You’re overreacting. You just need to be more confident.”
  • Bravado: “Whatever! We’ve got this! We don’t need to study!”
  • And on and on it went.

It can be hard for me to admit that I don’t know something in areas that I really care about (my massage practice being a prime example), and being in a wobbly state of imbalance is a painful reminder of the gap between where I am and where I want to be. But…it’s also so much more than that. Imbalance is an invitation to slow down, take stock, and see where your foundation might be missing a brick or two so you can take the time to fill the gaps and pave the way for a more stable future.

I’m happy to report that, even though my ego was convinced exploring my imbalance was a recipe for utter annihilation, instead I now have a clear game plan for my studies, which creates a snowball effect of positive results and increased motivation. And bonus, I now know that my ego sometimes uses shame to wall off knowledge gaps, so when I’m feeling ashamed about something, I can open up a giant can of self-compassion and get curious.

When we get curious about areas where we’re feeling a little shaky (or a lot), we’re slowing down and saying to ourselves, “What you’re feeling matters. This shaky feeling, this off-kilter sensation–it matters. I’m listening. How can I help?”

And, hand in hand with our imbalance, we find our way home.

One wobbly yet curious step at a time.

Past Lives and Chipmunks

Swan reflections

Since Christmas, I’ve become acutely aware that my time with my grandma, at least in this current physical form, is limited. She’s still in great health, thankfully, but…well, she’s preparing–giving away her books, sifting through photos and letters, and making arrangements. And it’s hard. Man, is it ever hard.

Last week I read this book, and the little great-grandmother-Buddhist-nun character had me weeping.

I called my grandma and it all came spilling out: how afraid I am of losing her, is she afraid of dying (she replied “Ohh, no” and with such serene confidence that I completely believe her), and how much I love her.

We talked about the book, which led to a conversation about physics and multiple universes (all part of the story, and I don’t want to spoil it by saying more), and our beliefs of the afterlife. While I wouldn’t say that I believe in any one view of the afterlife, since I’ll hardly have definitive proof until I’m there, my spiritual path leads me more in the direction of reincarnation. My grandma, a devout Catholic, believes her future is in heaven with my grandpa, and I so want that to be true for her.

And that got me thinking…what if they’re both true? It’s not hard to believe that the universe and its workings are far vaster than anything I could conceive of, so why not?

Before we got off the phone, my grandma reminded me of one of her sayings that she uses, especially when she’s going through a rough patch, “Be happy, just for today.”

And that planted a seed. The result: This story, which is my search for peace in the possibility that truth is so much bigger than I know.

What Your Freak Outs Can Tell You

A friend recently asked, “I wonder if freaking out about little things is related to downplaying experiences that are truly damaging and scary, like trauma?”

Bingo! A light in my brain switched on.

I’ve done a lot of self-work (and continue to do work) around codependency in my relationships. One of the features of codependency is focusing on, and often trying to “fix,” other people’s issues as a distraction from looking at your own. This is usually accompanied by resentment if the other person 1) doesn’t appreciate your efforts at meddling in their affairs and/or 2) doesn’t take your advice and change what you think needs to be changed.¬† (And if that sounds familiar, get thee to a library or hip, indie bookseller and obtain this valuable tome.)

How is this connected to freaking out over trivial crap?

While my friend and I were talking, I got an image of my brain that looked something like this (and no, I don’t know why the ego was wearing a hat that looks like a loaf of bread; it just was, okay):

The ego has a never-ending list of things to potentially freak out about. How to choose, how to choose…?

I’m imagining the ego knocking on the door of the subconscious and asking, “Hey, how much material do you have on this particular issue?” If the subconscious comes back without so much as a post-it, the ego thinks, “Excellent, I can safely freak out about this without dredging up anything really serious.” If, however, the subconscious comes back with a stack of files larger than Trump’s megalomania, then the ego is like, “Woah-ho-ho. Shut ‘er down! I’m not going anywhere near that one!”

To use my friend’s example: Rather than freaking out about a recent incident that dredged up memories of his childhood trauma, his ego found it much safer to fixate on–and totally freak out about–the bowl of raspberries he’d eaten during his sugar detox.

“You did WHAT?! How could you! An entire bowl of raspberries!!!! I can’t even look at you right now…”

In other words, rather than deal with scary emotions that are actually connected to significant experiences, we can freak out over the little stuff that, deep down, we know isn’t that big of a deal, like the codependent person focusing on other people’s issues to steer clear of looking at her own.

To our ego this feels safer, and, indeed, there are times when it probably is. If we don’t have a good support system (internally or externally), if we’re a child, if we’re already feeling overwhelmed, or if we’re otherwise feeling unequipped to cope, it might be a good idea to postpone a potential dark night of the soul until we do have the support we need.

But as a way of life, routinely avoiding the stuff that goes deeper than the bowl of raspberries leads to major build up–emotional, mental, energetic, spiritual, and physical. Our life loses its sense of flow, and we’re losing our shit over raspberries.

The Energetic Anatomy of a Freak Out

This, then, got me thinking about another aspect of freaking out and why we do it. There are many reasons, no doubt, such as seeing our parents or caregivers freak out and learning it from them, getting habituated to the cascade of chemicals surging through us when we freak out, and so on, but what interests me here is looking at this from a spiritual-energetic point of view.

Let’s work from the assumption that we all have spiritual energy coursing through us at all times. Call it chi, prana, rauch–whatever you like. As long as we’re alive, this energy is flowing through us. We create energetic channels within ourselves based on our past experiences, and not all of those channels are equally awesome.

Some of these channels allow for a free flow of energy, some are partially backed up with energetic hairballs, and others are blocked up completely. And some of them flow quite freely, but they don’t channel our energy into pursuits that are meaningful or life enhancing (one example: addiction–lots of energy, destructive results).

On the flip-side, some of those channels are associated with using our energy in ways that empower us: they enable us to home in on experiences that are personally meaningful and to use our resources to cultivate those experiences consciously. In other words, they help us create a meaningful life.

When our energy is flowing through these empowering channels, it becomes clear that we have the ability to make an impact, not only on our own life but on the world, and as much as we consciously think this is what we want, making an impact can also feel scary, because when we’re truly working in our “zone of genius” (to use a term by Dr. Gay Hendricks), there’s more at stake. Now, we’re living from a place that really matters to us, thus making the possibility of failure much scarier.

If we fail at the office job we hate–sure, it might bruise our ego or our budget, but it probably won’t shake us to our very core. Our ego, however, is certain that failing at something that really matters is the end-all-be-all and must be avoided at all costs. And this brings us back to our original idea: Rather than allow energy to flow through deeply empowering channels that could potentially trigger fears of a greater magnitude, the ego plays it safe and keeps us busy freaking out over the bowl of raspberries.

What Can You Do?

So, if you find yourself regularly freaking out, worrying, or engaging in other common distractions of the ego, like chronic complaining, judging yourself and others, and endless planning in lieu of doing, here are three resources that can help. They’re all engaging, easy to read, and majorly transformative.

The Big Leap by Gay Hendricks

Playing Big by Tara Mohr

The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown

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