Real-World Application

Moving opens your eyes to all sorts of things you never knew about yourself or other people.  When you help a friend move, you sort of get a glimpse into their inner workings.  You can see how they work under pressure, how they handle stress, their ability to go with the flow, their level of organization... You also learn things about yourself when dealing with a move.  A lot of the things I already listed, plus some interesting physical boundaries you thought existed, that may no longer exist.  For example, I never realized the real-world application of marching backwards, or the possibilities of learning to walk forward in a kimono.  When you're carrying an awkward dining room table backwards that does not allow your legs to extend underneath, you either biff your shins relentlessly, or you pop up into relevé, keep your legs in line and march backwards at 8 to the 5.  (I have to give a shout out to the Northstars Marching Band.  I never marched on a field a day in my life, but I did the block warm ups every night.  Thanks Northstars.)  In a similar fashion, when you're carrying a two-drawer file cabinet forwards with no room for leg extension and it's too wide to crab-it, you put on your mental kimono, keep those knees together and take graceful tiny steps with minimal bouncing.  (This one usually involves some artless Japanese giggling, for effect.) 

My most surprising real-world application came from a yoga pose.  I am not a yoga guru.  I've done it maybe 15 times in my life, including a semester of modern dance, and the 6 movement classes at my program this summer.  I can rock out a mean sun salutation, however, and this knowledge became increasingly apparent when I was cleaning out my trunk before I brought a load of stuff over to the storage unit.  There I am reaching into the far recesses of my trunk, trying to get these CDs out I haven't listened to in years, if ever, and I'm about ready to climb in the damn thing because my back is hitting the top and my arms are too short, but if I climb in, the trunk will close on me and then I'll be stuck in there because I can't remember where the escape hatch is, and it's really hot and maybe I'll suffocate, or maybe someone will hear me, when I remember - downward facing dog bitches.  I hated this move the first time I learned sun salutations. My arms would shake, I'd start to slide, I found no peace in this position the instructors insisted on spending long periods of time in.  This time around, I realized it's not about pushing myself forward onto my hands, but about centering myself, relaxing my hips and letting my weight balance more towards the middle.  This little adjustment allowed my back to arch just a little bit more, giving me the leverage I needed to reach the back of my trunk, saving not only myself, but an unopened copy of Die Winterreise, an old recording of mine, a Shinedown CD, Act I of Frida that didn't even have me singing on it, a copy of a church's Christmas CD, and some disgusting looking unmarked CD.  Thank you, downward dog, for these wonderful treasures.

So marching band and yoga come to my rescue offering the tools I need to succeed as an independent adult.  But let's cut funding for music programs, and force-feed proofs, theorems and equations to meet the state standard in our schools.  (now there's a segue for ya.)