Words

I love descriptive language. I love language that describes physical feeling. I want to put my experience of my physical body through another processor, translating sensation into words, because finding the words that best describe an experience helps to clarify my understanding of what is happening.

 

I am lying on the ground on my back. I take a deep breath, feeling my ribs expand on the back side of my torso, keeping my shoulders soft. I can feel my lungs filling like balloons, and I become aware of the interior surface of my ribs, as my lungs press from the inside. On the exhale, my bones follow my lungs as they deflate and come to a gentle rest. I take a few more breaths like this to remind my bones they are not stuck, to acknowledge the connection between the inside and outside of my body, to experience the rhythm and efficiency of this moment. I make a mental note of my organs – stomach on the left, liver on the right, kidneys in the back, lungs, heart, and intestines, and I sense them as the deep interior space of me.

(How my sensation of my living organs is informed by pictures and photographs!)

I feel my organs in relation to fascia, bone, and muscle, an organic and dynamic architecture. My joints are soft, listening, ready to respond to impulse. I slide the back of my right hand along the ground, thumb-leading, exposing my palm and the soft inside of my upper arm. My elbow floats off the ground, moving across my body, and there is a stretch, more like a skin-tightening, on the left side of my neck as my body begins a slow spiral that brings me to my left side. As my right hand pushes into the ground, I become aware of the line of energy that connects the heel of my hand and the base of my shoulder blade. Muscles activate between my scapula and my back, and I ride the roundness of my ribs as I return to my back.

My right side feels heavier now, looser, and I experience again, that in order to release, I first have to engage.