Zoom out

We’re visiting family right now in Northern Virginia just outside of Washington, DC. My 6 year old is currently in the backyard and the first meandering snowflakes of a belated winter storm began to fall minutes ago. He caught sight of them and shot outside, paused in awe, and darted back and forth like an excited puppy. In that moment, my husband and I looked at each other with contentment. Staying here for this snowstorm was not the easy choice. We both have work to do which is much easier to accomplish from home than from afar. This choice felt an inconvenience all day long.

I had tunnel vision for being HERE away from THERE. I wasn’t breathing fully. I was sharp with my kids and felt my shoulder biting at me. My right sacrum started its telltale throb akin to a flashing strobe on some factory with an audible alert of “Caution! Caution! High pressure! High pressure!”

Zoom out – see the joy of John as the first flakes descend. See the skeleton of trees outside my window with the space between heavy flakes. A taste of true winter. Stillness. Less intensity. Feel my breath flow in and out, my throat now relaxed and my low back space open and free. Recognize my jaw at ease and my eyes not squinting with hardened focus any longer.

Pain in our bodies can definitely be an inconvenience. Pain forces us from our everyday usual (or everyday patterns of life) into avoidance or accommodation. In this place, we can become disgruntled and sharp toward those we love. Trust me, I know this place well.

Alternatively, pain arrives as a messenger or an informant in it’s varying costumes of tension, tightness, throbbing, aching and sharpness. I smile as I say that I now know this place also.

Pain holds so much power in the greater context. Zoom out. Consider…
1) How does your pain or tension shift when you think in your brain the words “What an inconvenience. Harumph!”
Pause. And feel for a few breaths.
2) How does your pain or tension shift when you look out the window and drink in whatever natural world is in front of you?
Pause. And feel for a few breaths.

There is more. There is always more.

I have a single spot left in each of my classes this Saturday, March 18th. Please email me to pop onto either list. The 1:30 p.m. Hatha Class will explore this idea of tension as an inconvenience or as an informant. The 3:15 p.m. Therapeutic Class will integrate a focus on the core per one student’s request.

I’d love to hear reflections, comments or questions that come up for you by email.
Take good care,

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