One of my favorite hacks for getting my body moving in the morning is to do a repetitive yoga flow sequence for a specific duration of time. To make it more engaging and help me keep track, I use a song as my timer.
The process of repeating the same basic sequence of movements for a duration of time allows me to get lost in the movement without having to watch the clock.
Two of my go-to songs for this are Scenes From an Italian Restaurant by Billy Joel and American Pie by Don McLean.
Both songs have running times of approximately 7 to 8 minutes, which makes them long enough that my repetitive movements generate a flow state.
Although lyrically very different, the two songs share a similar structural and compositional characteristics. Instead of the typical verse-chorus structure of most popular songs, they are composed in a multi-part format that uses changing musical styles and tempos to support their narratives and convey different eras of time. Each has distinct sections that transition into each other.
Both songs start at a slow tempo and build slowly to a faster rock beat before slowing down again at the end. The construct of the melody in both songs takes you on a journey.
Joel’s song was actually three different songs that he patched together, taking inspiration from the B-side of the Beatle’s Abby Close single.
The melodic journey of both songs mirrors the energy of the cycle of the seasons.
The slow start at the beginning is like the emergence of spring from winter. The slow build through the spring of the song transitions into the “summer” — the rock beat and faster tempo that denote the song’s peak. After the peak, the tempo starts to slow down again, until the song eventually fades.
In interviews, Joel has described how the interlude between the opening lines and the next section is specifically composed to convey the passage of time. After the peak of the “Ballad of Brenda and Eddie,” the music returns back to the familiarity of the opening, bringing you full circle.
The overall construct of each of these songs provides a natural structure for my practice.
The slow opening allows my body to acclimate to the movement. As tempo builds, I start to find my groove. At the song’s peak, I feel strong, fully engaged, and in flow. By the time the tempo slows down for the song’s final act, I’m usually starting to feel ready to wind down and move on — although sometimes I feel like I’m just hitting my stride. Even then, the shift in tempo serves as a gentle notice that the end is near.
I never have to think about picking up the pace, pushing harder, or when to stop. My body naturally entrains to the song’s rhythm. The changing tempo carries me through the full arc of the cycle —from emergence, to peak, to release, to rest.
By the time the song ends, I feel complete.
Leave for a new piece
[note: flesh out the parallels between perimenpause and transition to autumn.]Everything is an archetype. The energy of the seasons of the year are an archetypal map for the seasons of life. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as I have more discussions with friends about the experience of perimenopause.
In the cycle of the year, the progression from summer into autumn is often the most challenging. As the days get shorter and darkness sets in earlier, we feel more tired. There’s a natural grief that sets in as the fun, high-energy days give way to increased darkness and a slower tempo.
We’re forced to let go of the certainty of stable warm weather and live in the uncertainty of variable temperatures. In autumn you never
We’re often reluctant to give up the loComing off the high of summer energy into the darker and slow
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