The Commons

It’s been nearly two years since making “Tether” and almost three since tearing my meniscus. It truly feels like it can’t possibly have been that long ago, as cliché as that sounds. That period of my life remains fresh and present in my my mind. The video itself and the narratives it touched on stay with me today. I have a difficult time ever feeling like a video is done. These projects are glances into me, my life, and my growth. Unlike a video, these things continue to shift and unfold. To box together a segment of my life in a video is inherently cutting the story short. In this article, I will attempt to parse through how the narrative threads of “Tether” sit with me today: what remains relevant, and what has changed. 

Centering Joy

A memory that stuck with me, and sometimes haunted me, while I was recovering from my knee injury was the session I had the day before I got injured. It was a beautiful summer day. I had just graduated college a few weeks prior, and was feeling carefree and happy. I was on a walk with my partner, and decided it was a good time and place to train for a little while. After warming up and playing around a bit, I pretty quickly landed on a line I wanted to do. Nothing too crazy, but it had some weird connections. In retrospect, I think I was forcing myself to move in a manner that did not match up with where my mind and body were at in that moment. I tried the line over and over, growing frustrated with my “sloppy” execution and inability to pull it all together. I remained stuck in a cycle of half-assed attempts and disappointment. To put it simply, I was not having fun. The very next day I tore my knee and was unable to walk for months.

Frequently over my recovery I would think back on this day with immense regret. It had been a gorgeous day, I was in good company, and my body was in full health. How did I let myself waste this moment? How dare I spend my last day pre-injury being upset while engaging in my favorite activity? This moment became a bit of a wake up call. It led me through some self reflection in which I landed on an idea I have carried with me every day since: “I want to center joy in my movement practice.”

It’s a simple concept, yet this philosophical shift in my approach to parkour has changed everything for me. To strive toward this ideal, I have drastically shifted how I approach my training. I will often pivot what I am working on if I feel like I am moving toward frustration. I am more mindful of where I am at physically, mentally, and emotionally as I start a session, and adjust my expectations accordingly. Of course we all have bad days, but they have become fewer and farther between. I want parkour to make me smile, giggle, and feel joyous.

Value Systems

A direct progression of thought from my belief in centering joy is a re-evaluation of my value system in parkour. This was on my mind regularly during the making of “Tether” and has only grown to be more relevant to me since. For me, “value system” refers to the often subconscious ways that we deem individual movements, tricks, clips, or videos, as containing more or less value to us. What specifically do I care about in my movement? Why do I deem a certain move I do as being “good” or “bad”? What am I basing that on? What is pushing me toward particular goals? 

Lately I have been skeptical as to whether my value system is truly aligned with my conscious beliefs about my movement. I often sense a disconnect between what I feel instinctively about my movement and what I feel when I consider it more thoughtfully. I’m sure many can relate to feeling unsatisfied with a clip in the moment, but quite liking it when you watch it back later. I think we often frame this self-criticism as a tool in the pursuit of our own success and achievement. However, I have started to view it as more of a hindrance to me. I have also grown curious about whether these self-critiques are genuine or if they are just an amalgamation of how I have been conditioned to feel about my movement. I started parkour quite young, and spent many of my early years training around older and more experienced movers. I idolized these peers, and their approval and validation meant so much to me. As I grew up I internalized this praise and shaped the way I valued myself around it. This instilled in me the belief that traditionally difficult movements are inherently the most valuable, and my ability to do those moves became the main source of valuing myself. This framework has its pitfalls, particularly around my sense of self-worth. 

When I was injured I was rendered incapable of performing traditionally difficult movements and yet I was still able to see a lot of value in my moment. I began to appreciate my movement for a variety of other reasons, such as its expressiveness or its expansiveness. This planted a seed that it was time for me to get more introspective and redefine what I want to strive for in my movement. To consider more broadly what is driving the choices I make in the ways that I move. To continue to move in a way that feels authentic to my values.

Strain

Another lasting effect this chapter has had on me is the way it has effected my belief in myself to endure hardship, and the ways in which parkour will be there with me. I had struggled plenty in my life prior to my knee injury, but in all of those moments of pain, parkour had been my primary coping mechanism. The week before my injury I told my therapist that I wasn’t sure if I was mentally or emotionally strong enough to face a major injury. During my worst struggles with depression in the past, parkour was quite literally the difference between life and death. I was afraid of what would happen to me if my ability to access parkour as a coping mechanism was challenged. A week later, I was forced to face this fear head on. I was surprised to find that I was able to just adapt. I quickly scaled my movement to meet my body where it was, and I found ample solace through it. I didn’t need two legs in order to find comfort in movement. Facing this fear felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Although I haven’t been injured as badly since, I felt the effects of this deeply when I separated my shoulder and when I sprained my ankle. While I was initially sad that I would have to shift gears, I remained more or less emotionally unfazed by these injuries. There was ample joy to be found in an adapted/scaled practice. This has also given me a lot of hope around my ability to practice parkour long into my old age. I know now that I don’t need to be in my “youthful athletic prime” to love doing parkour. 

Since “Tether” I have begun to view my use of movement as a coping mechanism more critically. As coping mechanisms go, parkour is generally a pretty healthy one, and it has gotten me through a lot in my life. However, as I have grown up and developed other means for processing trauma, I have begun to view my use of movement to cope as being a bit of a crutch. My trust in it to keep me going through hardship somewhat blinded me from the importance of developing other methods to process and heal. In particular, I think it prevented me from learning how to ask for help and how to properly communicate my needs to those around me. It is great that I will always have parkour to rely on, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important to face my issues more directly. Seeking support elsewhere has also lessened the emotional weight of my movement. The stakes can be high when I am so reliant on a session to feel okay. It feels really nice for more of my sessions to be more carefree, and it has helped me continue to center joy in my movement. 

Self-Love Through Movement

While “Tether” hinted on the idea of self-love through movement, my belief in it has only grown stronger in the time since. Alongside adjusting my movement value system, I have begun to view my engagement in parkour as being a catalyst for strengthening my relationship to myself. The dynamic of self-love through movement has always been present for me to some degree, but lately I have begun to embody it more actively. When I say self-love through movement, I don’t just mean liking your tricks and celebrating your achievements. I also mean accepting yourself and feeling an unconditional love for who you are. I don’t need to do any tricks to be worthy of self-love. Just going outside and appreciating the joy I find in the world is enough for me to feel it. Doing a speed vault can feel like a warm hug, from me, to me.