I’m washing the dishes. It’s unpleasant. The kids want to go to our friend’s house. I want to go.
I’m tight in my shoulders and neck. The right side hunches up a little tighter most days. I release it. That feels nice.
I remember what my physical therapist taught me, about how my torso is a cylinder. (Who knew?!?) I tune in to my cylinder. Yes. My spine is out of alignment. My pelvis is tilted. I’m bisected right through my core–belly breathing without moving my upper body again. There’s a dent in my cylinder, from an old horse-riding accident.
There. That feels better. Just an inch taller, and so much softer. I can feel my pelvic floor moving as I breathe. My diaphragm smoothly contracting up and down, in sync with those pelvic floor muscles. Aaaah.
I can feel my feet in my shoes, both flat on the floor, pressure equalized to both sides of each foot. I’m standing lightly, but strong, on the full surface of both feet. I’m grounded, and I feel myself light up through all these parts, again whole. Softer.
My breathing is smoother, and I’m me. I’m moving the sponge in wax-on, wax-off circles. The bubbles are pretty in their swirling patterns. It’s all a little easier. I’m still ready to be done.