The
water is your friend. You don't have to fight with water, just share
the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move. ~Aleksandr
Popov
Since May of 2012, I've been
exposing myself regularly to cold water. During the summer months it
was easy to do as I swam nearly every day of the week. Instead of
toweling off, I'd let the dry desert air evaporate the water off my
skin. Through the heat of the summer, I enjoyed cold showers and an
occasional cold bath. I found mountain streams whenever I could find the
time, and set myself down amongst the rocks, algae, and the sing-song
of the river.
At the same time that I started embracing
the cold water, I also started the practice of sitting on a cliff-edge,
where I would write, reflect, and observe. I didn't realize it for
most of last year, but what I was doing was the combined practice of
cold water therapy and grounding. It made me happy! Thus began my N=1.
For
nearly all of human history, humans have been in intimate contact with
the Earth and her elements. We slept on the ground, or in caves or mud-floored huts and houses. As the modern age has evolved, however, humans have been
disconnecting from the earth more and more. Tall buildings were erected, asphalt laid down, sidewalks constructed, shoes became sturdier, transportation became more efficient. People wear shoes everywhere,often constructed of thick rubber or plastic, a platform is created between the feet
and the earth. We sleep in our houses, above the ground, in our beds,
above the floor. We wake from our raised beds and put on our shoes. We
get in our cars and drive to our work places where we sit in our chairs, in our offices that are usually
above the ground.
Perhaps
we like working out, so we'll put on our high-tech shoes like Vibram
5-fingers, or other such gadgetry, and head to the gym. Maybe we'll run
on the treadmill for 45 minutes. Maybe we'll spin, or lift weights, or
do a class.
Then it's back to our workspace
where we sit for another few hours before driving home. Once home, many
numbers of things require our attention, and so we tend to those things
before finding a comfortable spot on the sofa, where we rest for a bit
before heading off to our raised beds.
It is fairly surprising how easy it is to never touch the ground. We can go for days, weeks, even months without feeling grass beneath our feet, or mud between our toes. And how many people make it a priority to ensure they maintain a connection to the Earth? How many people think that's just plain "woo?" Conversely, how many people make contact with the Earth without even thinking about it, just following their desire to sit in the grass, or lie down on a rock, thus nurturing their connectedness with their selves and the Earth?
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My younger, more idealized self wanted to live in a cave. I live where there are caves,
cavates,
actually, and I visit them frequently. When I
lived in the Pacific Northwest, I wanted to move home and live in one
of these caves, like the Anasazi did hundreds of years ago. I felt an
indescribable draw to these caves. I still do. Just sitting in them,
or near them, imparts a feeling of peace, awareness, tranquility. I've slept in some of these caves, many moons ago, and enjoyed evening on the "patios" outside of them.
The
ancient pueblo people lived in these caves, as well as stacked-rock
dwellings
with Earth as their floor. They used skins for their warmth and
protection from the elements. They made shoes from yucca fiber or skin.
But always, they were ever-connected to the Earth.
The majority of modern-day humans, however, want nothing to do with ancient lifestyles. The convenience of modern technology and products, makes it easy to indulge in comfort. Why weave shoes from yucca fiber when you can get it shipped overnight? Why sleep in a cave, when you can have a warm home? Why go barefoot when you can have the latest, greatest, hipster footwear? (Trust me, I love shoes, so I'm not going to lie about it.)
There are times when modern-day people connect with the Earth. Beach vacations, ski vacations, Sundays at the shore,
swimming at the lake, a day at the ocean...people do these things because they are enjoyable, reviving, relaxing, and energizing.
We spend the afternoon/day/weekend/week/vacation at these lovely locations, and we recharge. We come home feeling rejuvenated. But, as life has it, we get back home and return to our busy, full lifestyles and quickly
fall back to our typical status quo.
For some reason, as outdoorsy and connected to nature as I am, I realized that work and schedules and personal goals were somehow working to create a disconnect in my life. Even though I still strived to be
outside as much possible, I discovered that I had become reliant on
driving everywhere for everything, in this teeny, tiny town where I
live! Where I used to bike commute 90% of the time, I was biking maybe
0.5% of the time (that stat still stands, at the current moment). Where
I used to hike up in the mountains outside my door several days a week, I
discovered I was hiking maybe once every couple of months, if that. I
used to mountain bike all the time, and my bike was covered in dust in
the garage. The lack of snow each year meant that I wasn't
snowboarding, skiing, and snowshoeing as much as I used to.
Time
was slipping away, my babies were getting bigger. I was working,
cooking, cleaning, shopping, trying to maintain my household. Even
though I'd make concerted efforts to workout, to swim, to run, I still
was not doing what I would call "real connecting" with the Earth. With
Nature. Experiencing that quiet, still reflection on being alive and
part of this world.
When I climbed regularly, I used to
lie on rocks for hours each weekend, in addition to the time spent
actually climbing them. Often I was tired and sore from the energy spent trying to figure out
the movements necessary to get up a rock face or crack, but I felt
sublime.
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After the first snow fell, I stopped going
outside to my spot. I started giving in to indulgences. The holiday
excuses crept in and I gave in, because, "nobody likes a fanatic,"
right? I started having headaches regularly. My hormones suddenly
tanked. I was irritable, and my previously blissful sleep started
heading to the shitter.
It wasn't until someone brought
up grounding that I realized what I might be missing.
Around Christmas, the
winter
MovNat workshop presented itself. I received a holiday bonus and
decided to go for it. MovNat does not necessarily incorporate cold
water immersion into it's programs, but connection with nature is
key. Because I signed up, and I knew we'd be experiencing cold, I was
determined to increase my cold adaptation.
I started by taking ice
cold showers after swimming. Then I graduated to ice cold baths in my
own bathroom. Once we received snow, I buried myself in snow and
stayed in it for as long as time allowed. I continued with the cold
baths and showers.
When the workshop began, I was
definitely adapted to the cold. The first day, we didn't do any real
cold immersions, but we were outside, at altitude, in the cold all day.
We finished the day with bare-skin, breathing/meditation. The
second day involved much natural wet, cold conditions, but we had the
absolute remarkable treat of spending a number of hours at
Ten Thousand Waves, a Japanese-style spa where a cold-plunge tub sits alongside a large heated tub and sauna. Talk about bliss extreme!
At the spa, workshop
participants experimented with longer and longer cold-tub immersions,
while rewarding themselves with the hot tub or sauna. This was repeated
innumerable times throughout the afternoon, all with the excellent conversation, illumination, and debate with the venerable
Jack Kruse, as well as Erwan LaCorre, and each one of the workshop participants..
The third day was spent at a beautiful, high desert lake environment. The
starkness of sandstone cliffs, rugged, desert river setting, and frozen
lake provided ample opportunity for each person to relish in the
absolute beauty, ruggedness, and winter coldness.
After
learning and practicing new natural movement techniques along the
canyon floor, we all coated ourselves in mud. I, for one, enjoyed the
zing of the cold water rush experienced while washing myself off. It was truly
exhilarating. For most of the afternoon, we had been walking barefoot, along the river, and doing
new and more involved movement exercises for quite some time. The mud bath, which was a simple reminder of what most of us enjoyed as children, seemed to
enhance the connection to the Earth. Erwan reminded us that many people pay a lot of money for mud wraps, etc. Mud is free. It is available. But most people are unwilling to find it because they simply don't even think about it. After the exhilarating rinsing in the river, we
headed down stream to where the river met the frozen lake.
Weeks
of subzero temperatures gifted us with an amazingly blue, frozen
landscape. Once again, cold-water immersion became our movement of the
moment. Each participant immersed in the deeper water. Some squatted on the floating ice. Some swam beneath the ice. After drying off, we headed down-canyon. This is when, I am
certain, everyone's feet hurt. Mine were in the thralls of what us ice
climbers call the screaming mimi's...ouch!!! But once I put on my
shoes, the pain diminished pretty quickly. Amazing what a couple degrees
will do.
The fourth MovNat day was the most physical, mental, and difficult, in my opinion. I will leave that day for another blog.
The
final day involved hot springs and cold river soaks, along with a whole
host of new movement techniques and a final MovNat ending. By this
day, I truly was tired. Other than Jack Kruse and Erwan, the MovNat founder, I was the
oldest participant, and the only Mom (the only female, too...), and I was
definitely feeling sore. Not physically tired, really, but just sore. And a bit emotionally tired.
I had prepared to spend our final day in the weather. I thought that we would be along basalt cliffs, and using the Rio Grande for cold immersions. This is what our plan had been. As I was driving to Santa Fe, it was blizzarding. Apparently it was blizzarding from where Erwan was coming from, as well. As a result of the really extreme weather, and being that it was our final day, and most of us were physically tired, we ended up retreating to an alternative location. We ended up spending the morning doing more hot/cold therapy. The location was beautiful. Natural hot springs, a very cold river, easy access, and some excellent ground for putting all the MovNat lessons into practice.
Inspired by the workshop, and having a slightly different mind set regarding where to focus my energy and which physical activities I really wanted to invest my time in, I've continued with regular cold water immersions.
I have been taking cold baths.
I have been walking barefoot on cold earth. I've been sitting outside on the grass, lying on rocks, sitting next to trees, whenever I can.
I
have continued to practice the MovNat techniques, like hanging, climbing, moving on trees, practicing jumping techniques, balancing on trees and rocks, and seeing obstacles all over the place. I haven't been able to find it in my heart to go to
the class I loved so much.
Instead, I have been seeking out cold water in my environment. Living in the mountain/desert climate
I'm in, especially during a long-run drought, does not allow for easy
access to ample water. However, I have my secrets. And I'm a water
person. I'm intutively drawn to water like a dragonfly. I have some stashes.
So, despite fire and drought, I set out to see whether or not the water I knew about was still there.
It turns out, it is.
So,
now I have a new draw. A passion that pulls me, even when I think
perhaps, that I should be doing something else. For the past three weeks,
I've been to this water. I've sat my naked body down into the chasm of a
canyon, where natural spring water pumps out and rushes down to the canyon
floor.
I
heard a great-horned owl the first time I left the canyon. It
who-who-hooed me as I walked out with frozen feet. Several times now it has who-who-hooed me again.
My N=1 experiment is all about natural, cold water,
and grounding. It is my premise that being in cold water in the
natural environment is a) better than being in cold water in my own
personal bathtub; and b) includes grounding; and c) I will experience an increase
in positive outcomes as a result of this cold water in a natural
environment experiment, including a heightened sense of well-being, a
natural balance of my endocrine system (which I will verify using labs),
and an increasing adaptability to cold water environments.
I will continue to note the effects that I can observe, which will be a post for another time.
