Forward Head Posture

The sisters had found my coaching service by Googling “good posture“.

Prior to our first meeting, Linda sent some videos so I could observe her walking gait. The woman lurched from side to side on splayed-out feet. Narrow shoulders strained to heave her torso over the shaky foundation. Arms and legs askew, knees locking, elbows stiff—no body part seemed connected to any other. Jutting out in front, her head was the only part of her that was clearly directed forward.

Her sister worried that Linda’s gait made her easy prey for purse snatchers or worse.

I despaired of being able to help her within the confines of Zoom.

Linda shared that she’d never exercised regularly, but that lately she was walking half an hour a day on city streets. My sister says I have no mind-body connection, she told me. Her speaking voice was surprisingly melodious. I took this as a sign of harmony buried within her discordant form.

Once I learned that she had played the flute since she was nine years old, we found our first resource. Showing me how she sits when she plays, her body seemed effortlessly balanced and erect. Otherwise, how could she breathe efficiently enough to play? So, I asked, how does your body feel when you are “flute sitting” compared to other times when you are seated?  Strong, she said. Ready.  Compared to what? Heaviness and… inertia.

She’d now had a peek at the possibility of choice between one sensation and another.

Because we meet only once a month, progress has been slow. After two years, Linda can now sense her core muscles when they turn on, can engage all of her right foot instead of only the outside edge, can let her elbows—stiff from decades of flute-playing—soften and swing as she walks. Linda’s mind-body connection is just fine. She just needed to appreciate the practical value of her body awareness. She’s lost 50 pounds and has begun to look for a ballroom dance class that fits her schedule.

But still, such a forward head….

Last week Linda reported that her sister says she still walks with her head poking forward. Inwardly groaning, I knew that Linda’s gait probably looked less improved when she was out in the world than when we were together on our screens. I’d been working for months to build a stable foundation for her head. Maybe now was the time for head posture instruction.

But I couldn’t do it.

Instead, we returned to midline awareness (see Interoceptive Midline) —midline with heel raises; midline with knee bends; midline with weight transfer from back foot to front foot. 

Next, she sat down, refreshing her midline there before slowly turning her neck to look to right and left. Awareness of the moment when her midline buckles. Subtle neck movements: looking down… looking up to find the horizon. Weight in the ankle bones. Looking up to the ceiling… returning to the horizon. And again, midline….

A Discovery.

I think I tighten my throat in order to feel the top of my midline.

How could you soften that?

Swallow. Tongue lifts and settles. Breathing quiets.

Your midline is an easy flow: there’s no goal to achieve.

Still seated, Linda continued the small “looking around” head movements, taking her time.

Try it standing?

But first: restore weight in your ankle bones, weight in your rami. Refresh your midline.

Now, looking down just a bit. And back to the horizon. Again, looking down,… And again,… Each time with awareness, making the movement matter.

Tipping her head downward was the challenge—to look down at the sidewalk or a music stand without compacting her midline.

Walking.

I guess I’ve been afraid of falling, Linda said, when we compared this way of walking to her usual gait. But there’s less to fear now, with feet that can sense the ground, and with knees and hips in harmony.

My eyes brimmed over as I observed the smooth flow of Linda’s gait, the ease of her uprightness, her sentient feet, her head oriented to her surroundings.

Gratitude for my own patience. For Linda’s trust.

For refusing to teach “good head posture”. And for holding on to my hunch that building a foundation for head movement would invite Linda’s head to find home on its own.

My client isn’t learning to have “good posture”. She’s learning to let go of the obstacles that prevent her natural grace from stepping forth.

Thanks for sharing with a friend.

© 2023 Mary Bond