In 2003, I broke my neck on a trampoline. That sounds extreme, but it is actually fairly common. Walk into any gymnastics gym in the world and someone will have had a similar injury. But that injury, and my journey since, have shaped my lifelong obsession with movement.
Shortly after the injury, I graduated from college. With my prestigious college degree, I proceeded to get a job bussing tables. I wanted to return to athletics – gymnastics, acrobatics, ballet – but first needed to get out of pain.
The mother of a college friend worked with special needs kids, and taught workshops about pain relief for adults. As it turned out, that woman would come to change my life.
Over the next few years, I began working with kids with autism and traveled around the world to teach parents how to help their children flourish.
Create conditions for learning
Much of what I learned and taught over those years was about creating the optimal conditions for learning.
Kids with autism, even more than the rest of us, respond to their environment – the emotions of people around them and the situations they are in. Even more than the rest of us, they don’t respond to pressure.
When you show up compassionate, loving, and nonjudgemental, you are more likely to foster an environment for learning.
Where are you in the learning process
I love the steepest parts of the learning curve – those phases where I go from nothing to something. In these earliest stages of learning something new, I forgive myself my mistakes and embrace “bigger’s mind.”
As Seth Godin describes in The Dip each phase of learning is different and comes with different experiences.
It is helpful to know where you are in the learning process. Knowing where you are and where to put your focus makes progress much easier.
Purpose @ work
I was in Puerto Rico earlier this month to spend time with my best friend, who’s managing lymphedema in the aftermath of breast cancer.
Among the many things my friend does each day to maintain their health, they receive manual lymph drainage massage.
I’ve been around a lot of massage therapists, physical therapists and bodyworkers of every stripe. But watching my friend’s practitioner do manual lymph drainage, I was in awe of the practitioner giving this unique form of massage.
Afterwards, my friend said that it was her calling.
Movement as a business
I’ve had more than a few different careers in movement: as a lifeguard, personal trainer, Feldenkrais practitioner, working hands-on with kids with autism, a hand model, as a professional dancer, acrobat, and more.
Years ago, I decided that there are better ways to make a living than selling my time by the hour, and compete with the thousands of other personal trainers selling bigger muscles, fat loss or pain relief. I’ve gone on to build three successful lifestyle businesses in industries that have nothing to do with movement.
I stopped pursuing movement as a professional calling because all of the different ways I’ve seen people do it as a profession don’t look appealing – or especially challenging – to me.
I don’t want to work as a personal trainer or “movement coach.” I dropped out of physical therapy school. I don’t want to “train the trainer,” offer online courses, or work with kids with autism anymore.
All the models I’ve seen have limited upside and don’t especially challenge my business-orientated brain.
But since hearing and watching this person practice her “calling,” I can’t stop thinking about it.
Ikigai
The Japanese have a word “Ikigai,” which translates loosely to your life’s purpose. The works that lies at the intersection of what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what you can get paid for.
I’ve never been happier between my work at Zander Media and Responsive Conference and my daily movement practice. But as the New Year approaches, I think it is worth considering this idea of “purpose,” our unique work.
This isn’t a call to arms, so much as a question to consider: What’s your ikigai, the work that you feel called to do?
Until next week,
Robin