Walking with a book on your head
March 30, 2010 § Leave a comment
Don’t try walking with a book on your head. It’s fun for a moment, but it will not achieve great posture. You will only feel like a ruffled-up schoolgirl with naughty thoughts. Or at least I did.
This will be another rant on good posture; I am discovering it again. My spine. Over and over I feel my spine. It is the anatomical equivalent to my spirit and forever a fluid memory of every movement I have ever chosen and not chosen. Oh, however do we remember those puppet strings of childhood freedom. Spine happily dancing instead of slouched with stubborn opinions. I stood up straight this evening and felt that longing for a time when I did not think about having good posture – I just had it.
I sit back and think and slouch again.
The thing is, that idea of your-body-suspended-from-an invisible string-attached-to-just-the-right-spot-at-the-crown-of-your-head, is true. This is yoga (my summary, anyways). When we’re compressed we’re blocked. And when we’re blocked, we like to talk about how we’re blocked, which is pretty much like talking during sex, saying, “I’m not coming, I’m not coming” and expecting a mind-blowing orgasm to shake you down. Back to earth. There you are. Standing on your two feet. There I was, walking home tall this evening – wool socks hiked high and layered heavy against the wind – to find that the string is my spine and it has been mine. All along.
Hang out with your vertebral column for a bit. Check in with your atlas, C1, and re-introduce it to C2. Thirty-three precious you’s. Three spinal roll-downs a day and you and your sacrum will be having delicious, lascivious fun. Don’t laugh. It’s serious. Seriously sensual. Mmm, lumbar power, take me, I’m yours.
I don’t have time to give you the full lesson on a spinal roll-down, so until I make that instructional video, here’s a guy that did. The Voice Guy’s voice is quite soothing.
Best wishes to you on finding your spine today. I am going to lay mine down in a fully-satisfied sleep.