TUNING IN: MOVEMENT, MESSAGES & THE BODY

Some of my favorite memories are from the summer days when I was eight and nine. Every day had an easy, playful rhythm. My sister and I would head outside first thing in the morning, knocking on our friends’ doors to see who could come out and play. It felt like a different kind of time. There were no distractions, just presence. We were fully alive, tuned in without even trying. There was a quiet kind of magic, like we could hear our bodies speak through little nudges and feelings, guiding us gently back to ourselves.

As I have journeyed further into my life, I have concluded those childhood summers may have been the closest I’ve been to being whole. In fact, it makes me wonder if there is complete wholeness? In adulthood, what describes a fulfilled life is many times defined by external messages within our culture. We become conditioned to look outward for completion. We strive to find the next thing that will make us feel enough, a better career, picture-perfect family, fun vacations, the list is endless. The difficulty is that these outside perceptions are constantly changing and morphing. They always seem to be an extra few inches away from our grasp. Ultimately, what the external world finds important may not be what we want but still the pressure to achieve pushes us forward to ultimately complete these goals.

I believe the answer to building and sustaining our wholeness is found within us and not from outside sources such as social media and messages from our culture. What is intriguing, is that the answers can be held in our body, a place that is difficult for many to access. Our bodies carry an innate wisdom, quietly transmitting signals about what we may need such as sleep, nourishment, silence, and connection. What we need to do is to be still and listen more deeply to what our bodies are telling us.

The book The Body Keeps the Score emphasizes the intelligence of our bodies by explaining how the body reacts first to emotions and body messages, and then the mind goes into overdrive to make sense of it. The book highlights how this body knowledge is often overlooked. “Most of us are not aware of how much we tune out from our bodies... we do not notice what we are feeling or how we are physically reacting to events.” Taking the time to just listen and feel can expand a path to understanding ways to open yourself to these messages our body is sending. Another reason for a lack of body awareness is that noticing can invoke fear, especially when we are in pain. Being able to be curious and just observe can help to release the fear and move that message forward to release or get needed help.

A few years ago, I noticed gaps of fulfillment in my life. I wanted to tap into the silent language of my body to understand how I could receive more happiness and joy, to feel more well-rounded.  What I noticed was that the messages from my body had become less audible. Life’s busyness, distractions, and priorities were overpowering my comprehension. What I found, when I finally deeply listened, was that these cues showed up in intriguing ways such as a twinge, a feeling of stagnation, and body agitation.

To begin, my first step was to meditate. It brought mental insight, but I was craving movement. So, I created a three-minute yoga sequence that I diligently have done when I wake up in the morning and right before I go to sleep. It is a downward dog, cobra, and then a bridge pose. In other words, I open my whole back body and front body and use my breath as an anchor while I flow through the movements. When I finish, I lay down and just listen and notice what I feel in my body. This small practice has become my barometer of how I am doing and what I may need to add or subtract in my journey to becoming more whole.

From these movements, here are some of the messages my body has relayed to me over the years. On certain days, I wobble back and forth as I try to stand at the beginning of my sequence. I’ve found this to mean there is overwhelm, usually mental or emotional, and I need to deal with it before I feel balance again. In downward dog, the back and sides of my legs have been so tight I can barely hold the pose. Physical overuse is normally the reason for this inflexibility, but I’ve also noticed I may have boundaries I need to uphold or anger that I need to release. When I’ve raised my chest in cobra or bridge pose by pushing  it forward and upward, I find tender memories and tears usually show up if they need to be set free. I must acknowledge any grief to help this pass. I have also had days where I bounce through the whole sequence feeling alive and full of energy. When this occurs, it makes me notice what positive things are swirling in my life. This practice has amazed me by how much the body will share if we tune in as we swing with the ups and downs in our lives.

When we can slow down and soak up our body’s sage perceptions instead of chasing the ever-shifting views of the outside world, we can find how to fill the cup of wholeness in our lives. The poem Morning Benediction, by Alice James Luther, highlights this awareness, “Oh, the tenderness of this morning, this light, this breath, still mine. This cup, chipped but full, this heart, still whole.”

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking. Pg 97.

Photo credit: Image by Vitolda Klein at Unsplash