Thursday, March 3, 2016

Apparently, I bounce

Though I am an enthusiastic proponent of Natural Alignment, natural movement, barefoot walking, getting rid of one's couch and getting down on the floor, so your entire life can be like a picnic, I confess I find it difficult to present this option to others as someone who's authoritative. 

I know what it means to me, and for that, I will ever be grateful to Katy Bowman and her IM Force (I mean her NM [natural movement] team for creating a community I can be a part of and learn how to grow stronger and happier in my skin.

I find it hard to suggest that others should do as I do, under any circumstances.  Well, except singing.  Everyone should do some singing.  Physical training is something else again.  I can't seem to cope with telling people that they should stop doing X and do what I do.  If it's a good idea for them, they'll find me. Then I can tell them about Natural, Nutritious Movement (which is what Restorative Exercise is called now).  It's quite likely that the only people who'll read this will be colleagues who also teach this, so I can confess that though my journey has been constantly progressing and the miraculousness of my own recovery IS astounding, I don't know what to tell the wider world about it.  I am who/where I am and you all are you all and my stuff probably doesn't make sense to you anyway.  Is my Cherokee Indian showing?

So I haven't blogged in a year or more.  But here's a story that illustrates what I've been experiencing all this time.

In June last year, I totalled my Prius on the freeway and walked away from it only sore for a few days.  When paramedics arrived on the scene, I told them I thought I was OK.  They asked me how old I was, and when I said 65, the response was two-fold:  "you're going to the hospital" said one, and the other said "you look good for 65."  Even though I felt I was basically fine, it WAS a big shock, so I thought it was not the time to resist modern medicine.  Got checked out and x-rayed.  I was fine.

I can see how easily the "lights could have gone out."  The car's design to collapse and absorb impact, the air bag system, all worked as planned.  I found my glasses, my phone, my purse and left the car as there was liquid of some sort on the ground coming from the car.  Long story short: everything worked in my favor.  I am lucky.  Rolling over in bed was tricky for a day or so, but I never filled the prescription for pain meds as I had no need.  I took some garden variety ibuprofen (I think).  I am lucky.

Then I started to think I'm lucky because I have spent several years learning to move every muscle in my body as I walk through life.  I taught pilates for a decade or so prior to the discovery of Restorative Exercise so perhaps it is that I'm so good at moving my ribcage as I breathe (thanks Joseph Pilates and Katy Bowman) that these tissues are strong and resilient:  even though King Kong punched me in the chest, nothing broke or even bruised. 

Tissues that are constantly moving can serve you better (are healthier) than those which are mostly still.  You're still when you sleep, and the heart pumps blood around your body but only the big pipes. Only moving that gets the oxygen, food, and trash removal out to the tiny little capillary beds.  Maybe that's why the sedentary like it to be really hot, they don't move around enough to get warm blood out to the tippy toes and fingers.. (makes sense to me).  Anyway..

I was cast in a show, called "New Wrinkles," (about getting old~a comedy.  Me: pictured lower right.) and had to miss one rehearsal while I recovered some from my car crash.  Appearing at the next rehearsal, I confessed I'd done no singing and didn't know if I'd be able to belt it out, but, hey:  it was no problem. :o)

So I'm guessing that though I'm no where near perfect, King Kong punched me in the chest and I bounced.  Got my stuff out of the car and got on with it.  Apparently age has less to do with it and moving has more. 

So join a belly dance or a hula class while you're reading "Move Your DNA" by Katy Bowman.  It'll change your life.  It changed mine. :o) And sing.  Don't forget to sing.