Swinging with the Universe

Lucky Third

This week, after 3 years and 3 months of couch potatoing in Denmark, in a staggering haze of coincidences — in which all great things in my life seem to come wrapped— I finally started working out.

So what, eh? Well, this is an out of the ordinary type of workout. No, it won’t magically give you concrete abs and it won’t have you counting calories. It will, however, leave you with a soft heart and a relentless smile, terrific balance and endless patience. It involves no machines and no props — you don’t even need shoes — and, at the same time, it incorporates insane amounts of flight and unbiased human connection. It is a workout of the body and soul, of synergy with other human bodies and souls.

Although it might sound too good to be true, it goes under the name of AcroYoga (it’s spelled in at least three different ways, I made my pick). Go ahead, look it up. Or even better, try it out and you’ll believe me.

“AcroYoga blends the wisdom of yoga, the dynamic power of acrobatics, and the loving kindness of healing arts. These three lineages form the foundation of a practice that cultivates trust, playfulness, and community.”

Yes, and…

But let us explore this haze of coincidences a bit more.

This fall, I started saying enthusiastic yeses to nearly whatever came my way.

On the last day of October, I attended an improvisation workshop. Our teacher arrived a few minutes late, with an untamed strand of hair standing up from the top of his head. He had had a rough night, taking care of his mentally ill girlfriend. We, quite naturally, burst out in laughter. Improv is supposed to be funny, right? He was already in character, right? Well, not right. He was just being utterly honest. The visceral feeling of connection still creeps back every time I recall the episode, every time he opens his mouth or just stands in front of me. If the shortest distance between two people is a smile, the second shortest distance must be unabridged honesty.

Having no expectations can truly act as a universal key to happiness. I came uncharacteristically unprepared and was blown away. That day, I learned that improvisation is about listening, taking care of each other by offering and receiving gifts, skipping the small talk and fast forwarding to being one, being honest, being accepting and supportive — saying “yes, and”.

Along the workshop, I was lagging behind, having trouble doing and saying the obvious — where an improvisation scene’s success often stems from. My truth was buried too deep to be dug up on command. I was terrified, but still there. I turned to my friend several times, telling her I have still not gone home, as if I needed to verbally pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. We found out that an extended beginner course in improvisation would begin the following day. I enrolled with no hesitation. I wanted more of what was terrifying me. This Monday will mark workshop number 8 for me.

You Will Meet a Tall Fair Stranger

My Monday evenings are a spot of bliss in the dark Danish winter. They bring along an always edifying improvisation workshop and show. I often leave with my abs and cheeks hurting from happiness and with giggles stored up and ready to surprise me in the most random of places for the rest of the week.

An improvisation workshop is where I met the tall, fair-haired fellow with a British accent uttered in an always confident tone. He carried, at the same time, a hunger for knowledge and fellowship. He reminded me of a kind friend of mine and of my fiancee — arrogant, but bright. Just like with these other two guys— who now both, ironically enough, occupy meaningful places in my life — my first impulse was to avoid him. It must be the contradiction between these people’s inclination to be the center of attention and my inconspicuousness that I find so off putting, but I, in time, end up fascinated by.

I would have doubtlessly carried out my dodging plan, if only it wasn’t for an open door. An open door that opened the door to engaging in conversation.

The intermission between the workshop and the show that was about to start had just begun. The doors were opened for people to come inside. I was feeling chilly and moved towards the front of the theater room. The tall fair haired stranger invited me to sit next to him on stage. We got talking. I inquired about his lifting people earlier — and I mean lifting in a literal manner. He told me about this great workout that I should try out the next day, a combination of acrobatics and yoga. I mentioned a business model game night that was taking place at my school the following day. We convened to switch activities.

The Playground

The day of the activity switch arrived. I was ready to fly.

It was barely half past 4, but already dark outside. I accidentally got off the bus one stop early and circled around a bit, looking for the address. There was a rainbow colored bench in front of a church. I smiled at Copenhagen’s warmheartedness. The map on my phone finally loaded. I had been walking in the wrong direction. After passing through the dark and muddy park, I finally arrived at the school.

But where was the gym? There was no soul in the schoolyard to ask. The lights were on in a building just in front of me. I walked in. Parents and their children were getting ready for what I later found out was hero training. Again, what a warmhearted city. A jolly fellow with a thick accent told me there was “one” there that does acro, but it will take place in a different gym, in some basement. They let me go through. I greeted the “one” that was doing AcroYoga, noticing his cordiality.

After circling around a bit more, I found the right gym. The teacher had already arrived. I could see him through the big windows. He was warming up, stretching and rolling from side to side on the blue mattress. I was the first one to arrive. He greeted me and invited me to get ready for class. The others started arriving soon.

We warmed up, listening to our breaths, becoming aware of our bodies and those surrounding us. I learned how flight is achieved. The key ingredients are a base, a flier, and a spotter. Spice it up with gentle care and communication and you are ready for takeoff. During class, I was flown and folded and could feel warmth oozing from throughout my body. All these movements came naturally to me, intuitively sensing what my base needed me to do. I was complimented on the elegance of my flow and was questioned on my experience — had I really not tried anything similar before?

Soon, the jamming session began and we were ready to play. Shortly before the class ended, an enthusiastic stranger walked in, looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I wanted to jam. I was trying to tell him how I have no clue what I’m doing, but of course I wanted to jam, my teacher interfered. In no time, I was flying, this kind stranger guiding me with patience and a big smile on his face. “You have tiny shins”, I told him, but he insisted that I squat straight up and stand on them. He based me into hands free cartwheels. He remembered having shown me the way to the right gym earlier — he was the “one” doing acro.

Then he disappeared again without me even realizing when. Class was over. We huddled in a circle and closed our eyes, taking a moment to be thankful for a great class. We all heartfeltly hugged goodbye and promised to see each other soon.

The Sticky Stranger that came out of Thin Air

After class, as I was on the phone, excitedly telling my friend about the experience, a stranger was getting on his bike, about 10 meters in front of me. Before rolling away, he took a quick look to his right and met a smile — I had recognized him. We had met twice that evening. Yeps, he was the “one” from earlier. He smiled back and waited for me to meet him. I hung up, telling my friend I ran into someone and that I’d tell her more the following day.

We exchanged names and, out of the blue, very matter-of-factly, he asked if I wanted to join him in the swing class he was headed towards. Meeting my confused gaze, he repeated the question. I eventually agreed, despite the sum total of about 15 minutes of having known each other, adding the disclaimer that I freeze when it comes to dancing. He obliged to being patient and off we went. He followed through, teaching me the basic steps in the train station, always complimenting the tiniest of progresses I was making. On the dance floor, I started counting steps. He told me to stop dancing with my feet and transfer the responsibility to my heart. Everything got illuminated and our swing improved. Cliché as it may sound, it felt like we had known each other forever.

It ended up being one of the four times in my life I had fun dancing. Ever since, he keeps coming out of thin air and sticking around for hearty conversations.