Movement and Creativity
Aug 13, 2017
And now, a guest post by OS Certified Professional - Pro, Lisa Konoplisky
My life is weird.
For half of it (give or take a few percentage points) I am a student and teacher of movement. I use many different tools in my teaching and my practice—kettlebells, sandbags, bodyweight training, drills for mobility and visual and vestibular awareness. One of the most versatile and powerful tools I employ, however, is OS resets. Whether I’m working with a triathlete, training a candidate for kettlebell certification or helping a “desk jockey” recover from an injury or surgery, OS resets are an invaluable tool. Diaphragmatic breathing, head control, rolling, rocking, crawling and cross-patterned movement—along with all the attendant regressions, progressions and combinations—are patterned after how we first developed and refined our ‘movement software” as children.
So, yes, OS is an amazing tool for learning to move better. But OS resets also make you more creative.
You see, that’s the other half (give or take a few percentage points) of my life. I’m a playwright and a novelist. I’ve also done a number of other jobs in the theatre—directing, acting, stage managing—as well as working as documentary film editor. But my first creative love is and always will be writing.
This mix has made for some strange (and comic) moments. Once, while rehearsing one of my plays, I tried to illuminate a portion of the text by going into a long-winded discussion of the posterior chain and loaded kettlebell carries. To say I was met with bewildered stares is, well, an understatement. On another occasion, while I was at a kettlebell certification, I made a joke about Hamlet as we were about to begin our snatch test. I thought it was hilarious. But my career as a kettlebell-hoisting, Shakespearean stand-up comic pretty much died right there. I did, however, pass my kettlebell certification, so not all was lost!
But we’re all like this, right? We try to carry pieces of our lives in separate compartments and insist that they not touch, like a little kid who doesn’t want the peas on their plate to touch their mashed potatoes or their meatloaf.
What would it be like, though, what would our lives be like, what would we be like if we allowed these different parts of our lives to inform one another, support one another, if we allowed ourselves to be whole, integrated and tied together? In OS, we talk a lot about becoming tied together. As we rediscover movement we see (and feel!) how our bodies are not split up into discrete little parts but rather move as an integrated whole.
This is true of the rest of our selves as well—intellectual, spiritual and creative. We long to be tied together, we crave connection and the deep, life-altering knowledge that comes from being whole.
Movement is truly preparation for life. Movement IS life. And not just in the most practical sense. Yes, if you move well you can carry your groceries, plant a garden, wrestle with your kids or grandkids, and enjoy a hike through the woods. But if you have a strong and consistent movement practice you will also think more clearly, be more creative, come up with more (and better) ideas and find elegant ways to implement them. You will follow through on projects and be better equipped to bring more and more of who you are into your work and into the service of others. And, perhaps most importantly, you learn how to stick with it, you learn the importance of consistency. You learn that anything worth doing is, at it’s core, always a physical act and requires that you put one foot in front of the other and take things one step at a time.
I was never an athlete growing up. I was the nerd who liked to read and study and think. And, don’t get me wrong, those things are great! But the brain that does all that thinking lives inside a body. And in order for our brain to work at optimal condition, we must move. That, as we say in OS, is how we are made. We are made to move.
It was—perhaps not coincidentally—a stubborn block in my creative life that brought me to movement. I’d reached an impasse with a manuscript I’d been working on. Years had passed and I felt like I was re-writing the same 20 pages over and over again. I’d lost my way. I’d forgotten how to MOVE—through an idea, through a set of problems, towards completion.
My frustration—among other factors—led me to begin training with kettlebells. Kettlebells led me to OS. As I moved forward with my own practice—and began to teach others—I realized that these two seemingly unrelated acts were actually one and the same. There was little difference between trying to complete 3 minutes of uninterrupted leopard crawling and trying to finish a particularly complicated chapter of my novel. Movement started to change the way I thought and, in turn, this changed the way I created.
So what are the OS principles I bring to my creative work? There are many—too many—to fit into a single blog post, but here are some standouts.
- So Simple A Baby Can Do It. In creativity, as in movement, start with the simple first and then progress to the more complex. In OS we don’t start clients off with loaded sprints. Similarly, an artists doesn’t usually begin their efforts with a fully realized full-length play, a completed symphony or a breathtaking mural. Yes, t’s important to keep your eye on the prize. But each of those amazing accomplishments begins with one stroke of the brush, one word on a page, or one note on a piano. It’s a beginning and it doesn’t have to be perfect, you just have to take that first step, no matter how uncertain it may feel. That first step becomes the foundation for all that follows from it. You should be proud of it and own it as your foundational act. So start with simple. You will be sprinting before you know it.
- You get stronger one step at a time. It very for easy for artists (and for all of us) to dismiss twenty minutes of work here or there. We imagine art is either a process of inspiration where things emerge from us whole and perfect or we envision ourselves toiling away for hours and hours in our studios, at our desks, or behind our computers. But this kind of thinking does little to help us develop good habits. And good habits and consistency is how stuff gets done…whether you are writing a novel or trying to get your first pull-up. When we are born do we start sprinting right out of the gate? No, we breathe. That’s the most important thing. Then we learn to control and strengthen our head movement. Then we roll over. Then we walk, then crawl, then walk, and then, and only then, do we run. What is ONE STEP you can make today with your creative work. Find that one doable step and focus on it. The accumulation of these single steps will take you very far.
- Start where you are. Do what you can. Find a doable and clear and simple point of entry. There is always a point of entry, no matter who we are. You’d never imagine how many people say to me “I’ve always wanted to write (or paint, or act, or dance, or sing)”. Good. GREAT! So do it! Try a small step. You don’t have to worry about going from 0 to 100 overnight. Not ready to submit your writing to a magazine or publisher? No problem. How about taking a creative writing class at a local community center or college? How about getting a bunch of friends together for a weekly journaling “date”? Maybe you’re not ready for a loaded crawls while dragging a weight sled. That’s fine! What about starting with some bird dogs? Or some baby crawling? Not ready for rocking on the ground on your hands and knees? How about leaning against the edge of a table and rocking that way. What matters is that you begin.
- Coming up against limitations? Try a regression. Every artist has had that moment of staring at the blank page (or canvas, or computer screen) frozen, uninspired. What if you have nothing to write? What if you have nothing to say? We all hit similar sticking points in our OS practice. I remember when I first tried to roll. I reached my arm over my body and just got stuck. I couldn’t go anywhere. I was frozen. So I worked on 1/4 rolls and then 1/2 rolls until they came easily. THEN I went to full rolls. You can always regress a move. Break it down into smaller pieces. Do a little bit. Those little bits can add up to a lot. Can’t write an important piece of dialogue between two characters? Fine. No worries. Try writing a bio from each character’s point of view. Or maybe write what that character would put on their dating profile. Or imagine if they were applying to their dream job, what would they tell a potential interviewer.
- Moving well and looking for a challenge? Try a progression. Maybe you’re cooking with gas but you need a challenge. If so, experiment with a progression. Maybe it’s time to share your work with a writing group? Or submit to a website or magazine? What about reading your writing at an open mic or a poetry slam? How does that help you learn? How does it push you? How can it inform the more basic moves when you return to them after the progression?
- OS is for everyone. Creativity is for everyone. Original Strength IS for everyone. So is creativity. EVERYONE is creative. EVERYONE. You don’t have to paint or sing or dance or write. You can, and if you want to you should. But creativity is a part of everything we do. Creativity could be the way you raise your family, how you foster a rescue dog, how you manage or lead a team at work or in your community, how you support and help your neighbors. Creativity is about making something new or finding a new twist on an old thing.
- Breathing is your first and most important reset. Breathing is—as any number of posts here have mentioned—the first and most important reset. It is also a reset within a reset. I can safely say that there is nothing that isn’t improved by better breathing. I use diaphragmatic breathing to get clients to discover new ranges of motion, or to work through “sticky” points in their movement. The same is true of my writing. When I feel stuck or frustrated I breath. It may sound simple but it is a powerful and vastly underutilized tool in creative work. Sometimes I’ll just do it sitting where I am. Sometimes I’ll get onto the ground and add it to some rocking or rolling or head nods. Whatever you do, breathing is a source of connection for ALL of us, it is that place where the conscious and the unconscious meet. As artists we are always trying to access that place and bring the unexpected and the delightful into our work. Breathing can enable us to do that.
- You were made to move. You were also made to create. We all were. As a species we’re distinguished by our use of tools to get what we want. Creativity and movement are your birthrights. It is important that you feel entitled to own them and embrace them. This is a necessary first step that people often skip because they’ve never felt they could move or be creative, that they weren’t “one of those people”. If you are a person, you are a mover. If you are a person, you are a creator. Embrace it.
- Everything comes from the center. Your movement, your art, your family, your life…it is animated by purpose, by your “why”. What makes you get up in the morning? What are you unwilling to live without? What makes you willing to work hard and sacrifice? What inspires you? These questions become your “center” as a person, as an artist. They course, like life’s blood, through everything you do. Without a strong center, life and work becomes aimless and disconnected.
Find your center, and use this and all these tools—and any others you discover—to find your creativity, to learn to move. Move on the ground, move with your kids, move standing up and sitting down, move on the grass and at the beach and in the woods. Move through challenges and celebrations and move with the rhythms of your most meaningful relationships and connections—with family, friends, and community. Just take that first step. Move and create something and you will discover your capacity, as we say in OS, to move the world.
Lisa Konoplisky is an OS Certified Professional - Pro and an SFG II kettlebell instructor. She also holds a number of certifications through Z-health. She is also a published author and produced playwright. She loves to rock. And roll. And she loves rock and roll too. She lives in Madison, WI and Chicago, IL with her partner, 3 dogs, a kitty, a rabbit, and a parrot.
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