As some of you know, I have recently moved apartments.
Moving is crazy enough, but I had no idea how much harder it is when you and no one you know owns a vehicle, your friends are mostly working, oh, and you live on the fourth floor of an early 1900’s building. No lift.
Getting the furniture and stuff is fun. Berlin is an amazing recycle-friendly community, and due to previously-mentioned factors, a lot of the time, people will just give things away for free. Purely for the fact they can’t be bothered moving it themselves. Which is great when you don’t have a literal thing to sit on.
But then you need to get said free things up four flights of stairs.
Luckily, my brawny husband can take the weight of most things, lifting an entire oven down five flights because ‘it’s just easier with one person.’
But mostly, lifting requires two people.
This is where I come in.
This is where yoga comes in.
There is absolutely no way I would’ve got out of this move injury free if it wasn’t for the knowledge I have of my own body. Through yoga, I’ve been able to notice very subtle things about the parts of me that just require a little extra attention.
For example, I dump weight into my hips a lot. I’ve been asked (more than once) when I’m due, as I stick my belly out, due to having a flexible lower back.
My shoulders are super tight, so I tend to slouch (don’t we all), so I remind myself often to sit up tall.
And day by day there are things that come up, that I just notice, and take care of.
It was this awareness of my whole body, that meant I could carry a 70kg fridge up 108 steps. (108: yogi number. Coincidence?)
Engaging the belly, staying strong in the legs, and using my biceps instead of my wrists to carry things were all parts of the move. Yeah, it was harder at the time. But the payoff meant it was necessary.
Could I still use a massage? Oh yeah! But did I still manage to teach three yoga classes that week? Yes. With lots of yin.