One of the first things we did was talk about how we as people naturally use space. The instructor set up three dichotomies: we are bound or unbound, fast or slow, heavy or light, and direct or indirect. These describe the way you hold you body and move through life. I determined I am bound (I have started noticing how often I have some body part clasped or folded), fast (I'm always in a hurry), heavy (clunk, clunk, clunk...), and direct (or what I have started to think of as more like focused, on a mission). What would you say you are?
Using those four, we have done various exercises acting both as our true selves, and as our opposites. At our class yesterday, we started doing animal work. We determined what animal shares the spacial traits of our true self.
I came up with bloodhound. I crawled around the studio, barking at the cats and birds, collapsing on the ground in exhaustion, only to be interested once again in a scent, and so on. It was a fun part to play, and made me feel closer to my own mini hound, though it wasn't too easy on the knees.
Then we had to be our opposite animal. So, unbound, slow, light, and indirect.
I came up with: jellyfish.
Now, I don't know much about jellyfish, but it seemed a fun enough animal to be. This time, as we moved about the room, I mostly stayed in one place, floating gently back and forth, occasionally sweeping to the side as I imagined being caught up in a current. If I bumped up against someone, I stung them. It was relaxing... until it turned terribly boring. I needed something proactive to do. Funny what we learn about ourselves in these exercises.
At a previous class, we had been asked to pantomime some activity that we do every day, and I had chosen taking a shower. Turn on faucet, step in, shampoo hair, rinse, etc. Now, our instructor asked us to do that same pantomime... as our opposite animal.
At first I was stumped. The bathroom wasn't my natural habitat - how would I move with no water? I considered taking a bath instead, but she was very clear that we should do all the same things, keeping in mind the new limitations of our animal. So I made the decision that in this alternate reality, I was able to move about without water, but would still be susceptible to the flow of water... and I suddenly realized what a brilliant scenario I was in. What luck that I had chosen an activity that used water!
When my turn came, I floated into the "bathroom," flexed my jelly self out of my clothes, floated into the shower, used my jelly body to turn the shower faucet, floated over to get into the spray... and then let it pin me solidly to the ground. Having thrown myself on the floor, I stayed there, arms and legs sticking up at awkward angles, twitching as I tried to get out of the jet.
My teacher thought this was hilarious and laughed heartily. I was proud of myself for entering so well into this bizarre role, for really becoming a jelly fish.
As I left, I considered how this is related to ministry. Certainly whenever someone is called on to display some level of empathy or compassion, one has to take on what that person or people is enduring. It is an exercise in understanding. The Apostle Paul talks about becoming like those whom he is aiming to share the gospel, because if he is like them, they might be more readily convinced. (Not that I'm trying to win jellyfish for Christ or anything...)
But I think more than anything, exercises like this allow me to get out of myself, out of my usual routines, so that I take notice of things previously unnoticed. How does it feel to be light, unbound, indirect, and slow? Relaxing at first, then boring. Why? Why can't I be satisfied with relaxing now and then, without thinking about the next task? Why do I so frequently fold my body parts when I'm talking to someone, and what message does it send? How might I be more like a jellyfish in daily life, and how might that help me be a happier and healthier person and pastor?
We shall see. Meanwhile, enjoy this video of a exotic jellyfish, doing their thing:
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