The Beat of a Different Drummer: Part II
/[Continued from Part I]
A few days later, a friend texted me to ask if I’d ever tried a Barre3 class. My recent attempts at fitness had left me sad and sore, and the idea of a structured class with real live people (which would most certainly not include my former spouse) sounded deeply appealing. I missed my Taekwondo community, but had trouble working those classes into my schedule. However, the scales of resolve weighed heavily (pun intended) in favor of saying yes to something new, so I sucked up my thoughts and feelings about doing white girl things in the white girl county in which I live and said yes.
The next day, I entered the studio wearing the only pair of yoga pants I owned, with hopes that it would be a liveable experience. An hour later, I was fatigued, sweaty, and exhilarated. It was all the best parts of cardio, strength training, and yoga put together in an hour’s worth of body-positivity and encouragement. It was mostly women, and nothing about the time focused on getting in shape for anything other than our own health’s sake. I felt stronger, challenged, and ready to come back as often as possible. I also felt certain I would never be able to walk down a flight of stairs again, given the fatigue in my legs.
For the next several weeks, I committed to going every day except Sunday. I missed a few days, intermittently, but the new routine was so beneficial to my health and well-being. I got to be with new people for an hour, I met some friends, I learned a lot about the practice. It encouraged me to think more thoughtfully about my work, and consider the universal truth that pushing through challenges only helps to make us stronger. I was head over heels for this new part of my life.
Like most great relationships, this one started out so beautifully. It was mutually affirming, rewarding, and my friends gushed with approval. This new part of my life was good for me, and the effects were obvious. I felt happier, more balanced, and definitely mentally and physically stronger.
Like most great relationships, this one sailed by without trial for months. Until one day when I wound up standing behind someone new. Barre3 class is set to music, and the entire hour is thoughtfully choreographed by the instructor. I love this, as it taps into my love of music and very hidden-away parts of me which used to dance regularly (at Dollywood) (but that’s another story for another time). Being a part of a group of people moving in sync is a beautiful thing. We’re no Rockettes, certainly, but there is a comforting sense that everyone is moving to the beat of the same drummer.
Except for one person.
Standing behind her, I found my sanctuary of peace interrupted by her jarring unawareness of the beat.
It was almost as if she didn’t hear it at all. I strongly considered the idea that she might be hearing-impaired, which seemed like the most plausible explanation, except that I witnessed a pleasant conversation she had with someone standing out of her direct line of vision before class began, so this clearly couldn’t be the issue. My mind raced through the list of reasons why the whole room was moving with the intention of staying in rhythm, except for her.
The musician/perfectionist/rule follower in me was so befuddled. I was fascinated by her total unwillingness to let the music lead her movements that I wasn’t even (outrageously) angry. I thought, with as much compassion as I could muster through mentally-gritted teeth: Why is she doing this?
The uncharitable side of me suggested that she thought she was better than all of us, and by moving too quickly, she was obviously getting a better workout. (The uncharitible side of me is a bit of a jerk.) But, she doesn’t seem like an unpleasant or clueless person. She didn’t seem arrogant or rude. She just seemed to be moving to the beat of her very own drummer (a drummer, and I can’t emphasize this enough, with absolutely no sense of metronomic precision.)
This person fascinated me. I decided to make a game of it for myself. If I could stand behind her and stay in rhythm, then I must have an internal connection to the beat that could not be swayed by outside forces.
What I found was that I kept speeding up. My committment to staying in line with the instructor and class was challenged by the fast pace of the woman in front of me. What grew clear was that I had to work even harder to keep my own pace.
The pace that pushed me was the one my body wanted to follow.
After the typical mental waves of irritation and distaste washed over me, what I found was a very beautiful and simple truth: we need these people. We need the disruptive people who push us, especially when we don’t want to be pushed.
In my work, I often feel as though I am pulling an iceberg-sized entity into an uncertain future; this entity is an institution that is heavy and laden with tradition and expectation. These are difficult burdens to remove.
What I have seen in my own work, and in microcosmic little ways in my own home, is that we will plod along at the same pace until something external prompts us to do otherwise. Sometimes, this is a crisis. Sometimes, it’s a shift in circumstance. We are bent toward status quo and maintaining our sense of normalcy and predictability. We are creatures devoted to avoiding change and denying its power, even as we live in a world which is constantly blossoming, withering, dying, and being reborn.
[A brief aside for the United Methodist readers: I have been to a lot of church-related conferences recently to discuss the future of our denomination. I have listened as very firm people on one end of the spectrum (let’s call them “Traditionalists”) have successfully ostracized people in the middle and opposing end of the spectrum (we’ll call these folks “Progressives”).
What I expected to happen (a big, happy union of middle and progressives folks) has become something much more interesting: another spectrum with opposing ends and folks in the middle.
The fact that the exact pattern appears, even when one extremity of the previously existing line is missing, is a fascinating aspect of human sociological tendencies.]
What I can observe in my Barre3 class and in my church conferences is simple: there will be the pace-setters, and there will be those who push hard against them. The difference is that in Barre3 class, it doesn’t seem so insulting or personal. It seems like one person is doing her very best to give it her all, and although it’s really disruptive, she really does push everyone.
Conversely, in my work setting (and, honestly, in most settings), no one likes the disruptors.
But, the distruptors are the ones who are able to affect change, which of course, is almost universally abhorred even though it remains inevitable.
To this point: I have children who are now too old for the math to be flattering or possible; my oldest kid is basically my age now. The boys (formerly known as “Tiny People”) are smarter than me, and the oldest is officially 3 inches taller than me. I am at the point where I don’t understand their homework, and honestly, cannot even help my 4th grade daughter with her math. (WHY DID THEY CHANGE MATH?!)
I was doing my best recently to fumble through helping my son study for his science test, which is a fun exercise in trying to remember everything you once learned but have quite certainly forgotten (unless you’re a physicist, an educator, or someone who writes questions for Jeopardy). As we were reviewing his study guide, he rattled off Newton’s Three Laws of Motion, which I will politely copy and paste for you to prove that I’ve done my research (and because I’m guessing that unless you’re someone with one of the aforementioned jobs, you’ll need a quick refresher, too):
Law 1: An object at rest will remain at rest, and an object that is moving at a constant velocity will continue moving at a constant velocity unless acted upon by unbalanced force.
Law 2: The acceleration of an object depends on the mass of the object and the amount of force applied.
Law 3: Forces act in equal and opposite pairs. (UMC folks, take note of this one.)
It was the first law that really got me: an object at rest will remain at rest. It made me feel a little better that our bent toward status quo is a physical truth - a law of nature. And, even if we are moving at a constant velocity, the only thing that will change this velocity is an unbalanced force.
The woman in my class is - and this pleases me to no end to say - a totally unbalanced force. She is chaotic and wild. She is a frenzy of energy and determination. She is, admittedly, probably burning a lot more calories than me.
I have witnessed the same thing with beloved colleagues who have the gift of disruption. They are the friends who use conflict as a resource, and have the ability to lean into it rather than run from it (my preferred response). These are the witnesses who show me how push back against patriarchy, colonialism, sexism, homophoia, racism, abelism. These folks, whom I love and respect, are unbalanced forces. Obeying the laws of nature, motion, and inertia, they are the ones who will ignite the objects at rest and push against the objects in steady motion.
We need these people.
However much discomfort we find in their wild, chaotic frenzy of energy, we need them to help us move. Without them, everything would stay the same. And, if the laws of motion have taught us anything: staying at rest simply hastens the inevitable: death.
It is very tempting to allow our natual desire for stasis to reign. But, if we refuse to move, we are sacrificing natural evolution on the altar of stability.
What I am learning as the laws of motion have come into play in both my phyiscal and vocational life is that our gut-punch reaction against the unbalanced forces which work against us is normal. We need to have grace for ourselves this it’s natural to resist change.
But, the partner to grace is repentance: the willingness to change your mind - the willingness to move. Repentance isn’t just saying “I’m sorry” (although this is a helpful first step). Repentance is the willingness to do the hardest thing: admit that we might be wrong. The next step is figuring out how and what to do.
Once the unbalanced forces have acted upon us, we are going to move. Our work, then, is to figure out where we want this momentum to take us. The distance we will go depends on our mass (let’s agree to call this our “foundation” at the risk of developing unnecessary body-image issues for the sake of this analogy) and the amount of force applied to us.
One of my favorite, often ill-attributed quotes finds its origin with Theodore Parker. He was a 19th century Unitarian minister who called for the abolition of slavery. In 1853, a collection of his sermons was published and the third sermon titled “Of Justice and the Conscience” includes these words:
Look at the facts of the world. You see a continual and progressive triumph of the right. I do not pretend to understand the moral universe, the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.
In 1964, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered the Baccalaureate sermon at the commencement exercises for Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut, and he included what is likely a paraphrase of Theodore Parker’s sermon, saying:
“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
The idea that the unbalanced forces which act upon us have the possibility of bending the moral arc of the universe towards justice is a thought that comforts and excites me. I can be more compassionate with the notion of change if I see that it is moving us, somehow, towards a greater good.
Let me be clear: I work hard (and fail often) to practice a sincerely monastic detachment and lack of judgment when I encounter the disruptors. I have been asked, on more than one occasion, to stand as a buffer between the frenzied Barre3 patron and other class participants. I’m glad to do this, because I care for both of them. I can keep some semblance of rhythm, while also allowing myself to be pushed.
What I’m learning in Barre3 is about more than my physical health - this practice is teaching me how to love others more. I am growing in gratitude for the disruptors, and for the rhythm-keepers.
I am learning how to deepen my foundation, so that when the equal and opposite forces, which are always ready to act in response to one another, arise, my movement forward will be with thoughfulness and intention.
Being willing to move is the first step.
Knowing where you need to move is quite another.
Bring on the unbalanced forces, Mother Nature. Let’s see where this journey takes us.