Potential Space
by Alexandra Guhde, PsyD
THE DREAM TIME OF CONSTANTLY VARIED FUNCTIONAL MOVEMENTS
I like words. I like to sit and read, and listen, and talk, and imagine. As a child, I didn't walk until I was nearly two, but -- according to the family lore -- I talked in almost-sentences less than a year into life. And once I got going, I kept going. My favorite hobby was, and is still, to sit (mostly still) and read words.
In Ursula K. LeGuin's Words Are My Matter: Writing About Life and Books, she mentions "Dream Time," a place made of words, "...where human and animal are one." LeGuin is referring to the power of story and myth to connect us with our instincts. In that spirit, psychoanalysis is another wonderful place to find "Dream Time." There is so much life in a metaphor.
Being an analysand suited me well. But, after a decade of lying down on the couch, attempting to articulate my inchoate Self, it was time to stand up and move about the room. So, when I relocated from San Francisco to Sydney, Australia -- leaving my analyst in the process -- I decided to join the CrossFit gym down the street.
Not unlike when I entered analysis, it was probably good I had no idea what I was getting myself into. CrossFit, for those of you who do not know, is a form of vigorous exercise involving lots of running, lunging, and lifting heavy objects. According to the official website, CrossFit can be defined as "constantly varied functional movements performed at high intensity," with a goal of "increased work capacity across broad time and modal domains." Sure.
As it happens, "increasing work capacity" is a lot of work, most of it arduous and painful. The first half-dozen or so classes, I thought I might die. Happily, I did not (though getting out of bed the following morning was often just this side of impossible). And, in the absence of death, something thrilling began to happen. I began to learn how to move -- really move -- my animal body. I came more alive.
One of the first things I learned was how to swing a kettlebell properly. A kettlebell, if you're not familiar with weightlifting tools, looks like a massive metal tea kettle, sans spout. It's meant to be swung by its handle from just below the hips, either to eye level or directly above the head. To swing a kettlebell properly, and to avoid injury, one must -- as the saying goes -- swing from the hip. All force comes from the glutes, hips, and core. The arms are mere levers. I did not understand this on my first attempt (or my second, or my third). Lifting primarily with my arms, trying to maneuver the kettlebell above my head was ridiculously difficult. Once I learned to swing correctly, I was delighted to find I could send a dozen or more kilos soaring heavenward.
What gets me so happy about this is not that I adore kettlebell swings -- they're exhausting and not especially fun -- but that I now know what it feels like to literally, instinctually, swing from the hip. The joy of this simple movement runs surprisingly deep. Yes, words, metaphors, matter. But, as I'm learning, so do functional movements performed at high intensity. "Dream Time" -- it's everywhere.