“Like the mast of a ship” they said. “Imagine your back, your body, your whole backbody being like the mast of a ship. Tall, straight, unbending yet supporting the ship to stay upright.”
I like this metaphor (from a cranio-sacral practitioner) and while it doesn’t feel altogether quite right, I do appreciate the imagery of a ship staying afloat amidst calm water, choppy seas, even storms. The not-quite-right part for me is that when a ship (and apologies to all seafarers who know much more about the reality than me, so let’s say a metaphorical ship), is cast about in heavy seas, it’s not possible to get back to upright and stable. Something to do with physics? Whereas in life, we might say that when we’re knocked off that central line of standing in our length, in our dignity, it may be possible to get to centred and upright and stable. Let me give you an example.
I’ve explored elsewhere the difficult family member with whom I have regular contact. I prepare myself for entering the lion’s cage by pausing, grounding and centering myself, offering some internal words of encouragement and reassurance. Only then do I knock the door. However, if I step into the (perceived) lion’s den and this time the lion is snarling and mean, I am naturally alarmed and unconsciously react with fight, flight, freeze or fold. Perceiving my body wanting to flee the scene, after all these years of training and preparation, now I can pause, settle in to myself, find my feet and my length and react from that (somewhat calmer) place. More chance then of responding from centre with an enhanced sense of whether there is sufficient safety to stay, or indeed a need to leave until the lion has been fed and watered.
I am awash with metaphor today! Imagine a teacup with loose tea leaves. When the hot or boiling water is poured on to them in the bottom of the cup, they rise and swirl, swirling ever faster when a spoon stirs them around. That’s similar to how my insides feel in the lion’s cage, all churned up, heart quickened, energy moving around in my torso. When I pause to ground and centre, there’s an opportunity for the tea leaves to gently, slowly, predictably begin to settle in the teacup. I can feel the visceral tension at the base of my throat begin to loosen, I can sense in to the rib cage softening, the diaphragm expanding, more oxygen being drawn in to my lungs, and eventually the slow gentle settling of energy in my belly. Then I can feel my legs again, my feet rooting me to the ground. A relief, a big breath out. Resilience lives in my strong back and self-respect recovers. All is well. The lion can do what lions do, and I am safe, resourced and resourceful.
And all of this is possible because I’ve embodied the ability to be responsive under pressure as a result of practicing grounding and centering over many decades, starting with my Strozzi training in the late nineties. “Practice makes permanent” is the key here, so I leave you with the question: what are you practicing, right now? Does it serve you? What practice would really support you in this moment?
[My private practice is usually full and you’re welcome to reach out to see if that’s changed]