Somatic Epiphanies and Four-Letter Words
/If you’re reading this, it’s likely you’re curious about your body and interested in the subtle sensations that arise within you when you pay attention. You may have discovered that when you attend to your sensations in a kindly way, those which seem limiting can begin to change for the better.
Perhaps this happened during a Pilates class or a Feldenkrais lesson, or even in one of my online workshops—you felt a new body sense that made it easier to find your balance, to move more freely and comfortably. In that moment you may have felt bigger, as if your body was taking up more space.
But somatic epiphanies can be elusive.
So long as you’re in an environment where attending to our bodies is encouraged, it’s easy to sustain and cultivate your new freedom. You can do it on your own too, while walking or practicing privately.
If you’re like me, plunging into the rhythms of the daily routine makes it less likely I’ll notice my body’s participation in what I’m doing. I’m putting together a quick meal, Yelping the hours of a favorite café or cleaning up a trail of ants that appeared from nowhere. At such times it’s easiest to access ingrained habits of standing, sitting and moving. Yet the moments when body consciousness is dim can be fertile opportunities for doing and feeling things differently.
Choose a Sensation that Makes a Difference.
Lately I’ve been exploring a particular tension that restricts the freedom of my left hip when I walk. I began noticing this about the time I found out about having PD, so maybe it’s related to that. Or maybe it comes from a decades-old habit of resting more weight on my left leg than on my right. When I studied ballet as a teenager, it was always easier to balance and turn on my left foot. [I think it likely that the postural imbalances so common in people with PD are exacerbations of imbalances that were there for decades prior to diagnosis.]
Working with the same kinds of explorations I teach to others, I’ve discovered a spatial awareness that invites my left leg to swing more smoothly. It’s easy to practice this when I’m out walking around my neighborhood. It feels great—I’m steadier, stronger and can move faster.
As soon as I open the door to my house I’m back to the grooved-in habit of centering over my left leg. But I can’t be attentive to my body during every moment of every day. It would be crazy-making to try. So, my strategy is this:
Collaborate with Frustration.
I choose a moment when irritation flares up. Moments peppered with four-letter words work well: something has burnt or fallen or won’t fit; a program update has erased important files; the cat has left a hairball on the white carpet….
This is a good time for the Stop-Relax-Go strategy I described in a recent post. Before Going, I summon up the hip freedom I’d like to embody. I focus on the sensation of moving rather than the movement itself. My many years of dance training make it easy (and fun) for me to master a New Movement, but that movement alone will not take me to the sustainable new habit I’m hoping for. The new behavior won’t be integrated into my whole self, but rather will only be a new leg gesture tacked onto my usual way of being.
I need to Stop again, to remember how the freer hip motion made me feel as a whole person. I felt “steadier and stronger and faster”. But now, when I touch into this more secure and powerful stance, a small shadow arises. It seems there’s a nattering squirrel flitting around in the background. 🐿️
I manage Parkinson’s symptoms exceptionally well and I’m grateful for the many resources that help me do that. Most of the time I ignore the neurologists’ predictions of “inevitable disease progression”. But perhaps there are situations when I use my condition as an excuse to avoid things—to squirrel away my treasures.
So, my revised walking gait isn’t integrated just yet. It will take some time to grow into the felt sense of my whole body and being that emerges when I move in that way.
A somatic epiphany makes transformation feel instantaneous,
But epiphanies, it seems, are previews.
© 2024 Mary Bond
Thank you for reading and for sharing 🌷