Sunday
Jul052009
Confirmed lesson: Lightness
Sunday, July 5, 2009 at 03:52PM
Whoo, two posts in one night! I'm on fire! But I warn you, few and faithful readers, that things are about to get a good deal more busy and after tonight there might not be much of a chance to post.
So. Here's something that I've learned, a continuation of a lesson from two years ago, which is: the importance of the practice of lightness. This is a word that gets bandied about Double Edge quite a bit when we're doing our morning runs, and occasionally in other trainings or scenarios when things get onerous. Look up, see what you're looking at; be light on your feet; float instead of run, enjoy yourself instead of slog. Easier said than done, in many cases. But...possible more often than I thought.
Every Sunday morning at Double Edge, we play soccer. It's one of the very few reliable routines. Two weeks ago on Sunday, I was draggin'. I hadn't woken up properly, I don't think I'd had enough for breakfast, I was put out for some reason or other, and soccer was torture. Running back and forth, missing the ball all the time; there's an incline on our soccer pitch, so a soccer game involves running up and down a hill over and over. And I'm not very good at it. About halfway through, Matthew yelled something at me along the lines of "Look up, Alissa! Be light!" and I realized that I was breathing heavy, running heavy, looking down, and grousing more than I needed to. So with an effort of will, I looked up, ungrounded myself, and started to fly.
It worked better than I thought it would. My breathing eased. I started connecting with the ball occasionally. And I also started having fun.
So that was good. This wasn't a new experience; I've recieved this reminder at Double Edge and other places before. With practice, I'm getting better at making the effort of will and trusting that it will actually help.
Fast forward to yesterday, which was an all day "tech day," which on at this place means doing manual labor to get things at the farm ready for the show; painting, rigging, varnishing, sawing, sewing, weeding, pruning, digging, gluing, and for some reason, lots of carrying very heavy things with other people long distances across the farm. (Has no one ever told the people at Double Edge that stagecraft and materials should be made out of balsa wood rather than oak?!) After weeding for a bit, I was given the job of watching two charming young girls, ages 6 and 8, the daughters of one of the artists who was here painting the (beautiful) canvas backdrops. I kind of chafed at the babysitting duty; I like kids well enough, but I can only put up with so many hours of catching tadpoles and facilitating sister squabbles while everyone else is making awesome giant puppets before I get a little down.
After dinner, there was more work lifting and carrying heavy, awkward things. Oh joy. At one point, Adam sent me with an awkward and overflowing armload of stilts to the prop room, and I positively trudged. With bitter mein and slumped shoulders. As I stomped back out, having deposited my load, I grumbled to myself "Some goddamn Double Edge person is gonna look at me and tell me to be light, for Pete's sake." And I dreaded it, but also it was clear that I probably needed it, and then also--oh yeah. I can tell myself to be light. I looked up. I took a deep breath. I noticed it was a beautiful day. I wasn't quite as tired as all that.
I didn't quite get all the way ungrumpy. But it was the first time here that I remembered to remind myself before someone else did, which is a milestone that maybe came embarrassingly late. This idea of "light" is hard when you're tired because it requires a surge of energy to instate, like an initial push that gets the ball rolling. From the perspective of grumpytired, it seems like "light" will be an awful state to exist in, because it requires so much more movement and engagement in what's going on. But once engaged, things actually get easier. It turns out that trudging and stomping are exhausting, while skimming or floating can be easy.
Soccer this morning was easy. I kept refreshing the reminder, my weight floated up, I chased the ball. I kicked it straight to waiting feet of the opposing team over and over. But I did have fun and I barely got out of breath.
The lesson is twofold: 1) it works better than I thought and 2) I can do it for myself. Not bad, for a tool that I'll use for the rest of my life.
It's not that Double Edge is the only place that I've encountered this philosophy in one form or another; but here, there are an awful lot of opportunities to practice.
Floating at the Farm,
Alissa
So. Here's something that I've learned, a continuation of a lesson from two years ago, which is: the importance of the practice of lightness. This is a word that gets bandied about Double Edge quite a bit when we're doing our morning runs, and occasionally in other trainings or scenarios when things get onerous. Look up, see what you're looking at; be light on your feet; float instead of run, enjoy yourself instead of slog. Easier said than done, in many cases. But...possible more often than I thought.
Every Sunday morning at Double Edge, we play soccer. It's one of the very few reliable routines. Two weeks ago on Sunday, I was draggin'. I hadn't woken up properly, I don't think I'd had enough for breakfast, I was put out for some reason or other, and soccer was torture. Running back and forth, missing the ball all the time; there's an incline on our soccer pitch, so a soccer game involves running up and down a hill over and over. And I'm not very good at it. About halfway through, Matthew yelled something at me along the lines of "Look up, Alissa! Be light!" and I realized that I was breathing heavy, running heavy, looking down, and grousing more than I needed to. So with an effort of will, I looked up, ungrounded myself, and started to fly.
It worked better than I thought it would. My breathing eased. I started connecting with the ball occasionally. And I also started having fun.
So that was good. This wasn't a new experience; I've recieved this reminder at Double Edge and other places before. With practice, I'm getting better at making the effort of will and trusting that it will actually help.
Fast forward to yesterday, which was an all day "tech day," which on at this place means doing manual labor to get things at the farm ready for the show; painting, rigging, varnishing, sawing, sewing, weeding, pruning, digging, gluing, and for some reason, lots of carrying very heavy things with other people long distances across the farm. (Has no one ever told the people at Double Edge that stagecraft and materials should be made out of balsa wood rather than oak?!) After weeding for a bit, I was given the job of watching two charming young girls, ages 6 and 8, the daughters of one of the artists who was here painting the (beautiful) canvas backdrops. I kind of chafed at the babysitting duty; I like kids well enough, but I can only put up with so many hours of catching tadpoles and facilitating sister squabbles while everyone else is making awesome giant puppets before I get a little down.
After dinner, there was more work lifting and carrying heavy, awkward things. Oh joy. At one point, Adam sent me with an awkward and overflowing armload of stilts to the prop room, and I positively trudged. With bitter mein and slumped shoulders. As I stomped back out, having deposited my load, I grumbled to myself "Some goddamn Double Edge person is gonna look at me and tell me to be light, for Pete's sake." And I dreaded it, but also it was clear that I probably needed it, and then also--oh yeah. I can tell myself to be light. I looked up. I took a deep breath. I noticed it was a beautiful day. I wasn't quite as tired as all that.
I didn't quite get all the way ungrumpy. But it was the first time here that I remembered to remind myself before someone else did, which is a milestone that maybe came embarrassingly late. This idea of "light" is hard when you're tired because it requires a surge of energy to instate, like an initial push that gets the ball rolling. From the perspective of grumpytired, it seems like "light" will be an awful state to exist in, because it requires so much more movement and engagement in what's going on. But once engaged, things actually get easier. It turns out that trudging and stomping are exhausting, while skimming or floating can be easy.
Soccer this morning was easy. I kept refreshing the reminder, my weight floated up, I chased the ball. I kicked it straight to waiting feet of the opposing team over and over. But I did have fun and I barely got out of breath.
The lesson is twofold: 1) it works better than I thought and 2) I can do it for myself. Not bad, for a tool that I'll use for the rest of my life.
It's not that Double Edge is the only place that I've encountered this philosophy in one form or another; but here, there are an awful lot of opportunities to practice.
Floating at the Farm,
Alissa
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