Transformations from Standing on the Fence
During BCST sessions when I ask clients to tune into their bodies and describe what they are feeling, they are often surprised at what they find. Sometimes whole chunks of themselves are inaccessible. A limb might be missing, or often the diaphragm seems to be the beginning or end to a section of sensation. Sometimes bits feel blocked or stuck.
When clients start to gently feel into their bodies they can meet some pretty uncomfortable stuff. The good news is that meeting the uncomfortable transforms it and ourselves. It creates a potential for clarity and learning that is immense. The transformation becomes embodied instead of a momentary insightful ah-ha that can stay solely in the mind and dissolve as the next thought comes in to take its place.
Transformation isn’t reserved just for the treatment table, we can find it anywhere… well usually anywhere that we find ourselves.
I wrote a blog about my drive to delve deeply into my fitness and movement goals and that, despite not having the money to invest, I decided to increase my sessions with the Movement Coach (MC). I was curious about this compulsion and wanted to explore what happens when I follow these intuitive impulses. I’ve had a couple of sessions that have revealed why following this intuition was a wise thing to do.
The movement sessions are never dull, one day it will be handstands, cartwheels and chasing frisbees, the next it will be swinging and climbing all over the kid’s playground. One particular session the MC demonstrated effortlessly getting up on the fence rail into a deep squat position, which he then held while he chatted about how great it felt. Yes, he said my legs are longer than yours, but you can do this.
Having built up a certain level of trust over the last 12 months, my usual response is I’ll give it a go. Often followed by a string of reasons why I probably can’t do it, just to make sure that neither of us has any expectations.
I have an issue with my left side, a tightness through my hip that makes some movements awkward. So I struggled and tried and got as far as two feet up on the rail, and every time I tried and fought to stay there I’d topple of instantly.
I was aware of the growing frustration and the self talk telling me I was a pretty (censored) useless . So I practiced what I preach and dropped out of my head and into my body as a way to anchor and feel my way out of hearing that nasty voice in my head.
What I discovered surprised me. The feeling of frustration and of trying so hard was a held in a massive contraction in my throat. It was this big lump of emotion and it was about not being good enough, ever. It was about a daily lived struggle of trying to be good, great, perfect in everything I do and the frustration at myself for never measuring up.
It felt hideous but I knew that I had to feel it for it to lose its power. So I stopped what I was doing and let myself go into the sensations that I had avoided feeling forever. I’m grateful that the MC is a bit Zen and appears to be licensed to listen. Thankfully he’s able to hold the space without freaking out, as what happened next wasn’t pretty.
I experienced the held emotions and let them process. When they passed I accessed a clarity about myself. I realised that I’d been on a mission to improve myself for a long time and that actually I’d had enough. My resolve… There is nothing to improve, I am who I am and I like me. I can stop trying so hard and just do what I do, be who I am and let things flow without strangulating every moment.
I now notice that I feel a lot more solid in myself. I can only describe it like this… I used to feel as though sometimes I lived life like I was always sitting on the edge of a seat, leaning forward, tense and projecting myself out and forward. Now I feel like I’m sitting back, relaxed, grounded and letting things flow both to me and in me. The contraction in my throat has gone, breathing is easier and deeper and I feel more whole.
The desperate ‘trying’ has dissolved. Interestingly, I feel more able to ask for support and help. The next attempt at the fence squat was very different, with a bit of help, I did it and took it to the next level of standing on the railing where, even though I was a bit shaky, I felt great.
Meeting the uncomfortable has transformed it.