Receiving light
I am fascinated by the power of vision to pattern movement, and its prominence in my own embodied experience. So often in sessions with clients, classes, or in my own practice, I find myself cuing, choreographing, or simply bringing awareness to the eyes. More specifically, I’m acutely aware of the connections between the motions of the eyes and the motions of the spine.
This is easy to observe in posture. Posture is the position of the body in any moment in time, and generally refers to positions that are maintained over longer periods of time. When I spend a lot of time looking at my computer screen, or better yet the miniscule do-everything screen of my ‘smart’ phone, my eyes reach to the device and thereby pull my head forward. It’s as if my eyes are reaching for the light. Light moves really quickly, so it would seem unnecessary to do this—the light will get to me faster than I can even imagine, but I crank my head forward anyway.
Reaching from the eyes isn’t always a bad thing—there are times that genuine strength, excitement, and/or directness might be expressed by this reaching. If I’m giving a lecture I might reach my eyes out to the people I’m speaking to, or I might express love through the reach of my eyes to a friend. I can similarly reach my hand out to be direct with my intention. And what about the head? Is it useful to crank my head forward on my spine? In most situations I find that my head advances forward of my torso because I’m somewhat anxious: I’m not ready to bring my whole body forward, but I want more information and I am reaching out to it. On the one hand this is natural—I’m protecting myself by retreating my torso at the same time that I advance my skull. Yet, if I would prefer not to live in a state of panic (and I do), then another method is probably worth practicing. My suggestion, for myself and others, is to practice imagining and allowing that light will come to the back of the eye. Our lives move quickly, but not faster than the speed of light. When I allow myself to receive the light I can better meet it with my breath, my spine, and the support of the earth. Simply put, I’m more at ease.
I’m working with a graphic designer on a logo for Matthew Nelson Movement. We decided on a squirrel, because they’re so wonderfully bouncy, resilient, and easy in their movements. I was having trouble with the picture because I couldn’t figure out how the eye she had drawn related to the rest of the squirrel’s body. Eyes are so expressive! I erased the eye my designer had created and started making my own. When I connected the eye to the rest of the squirrel’s spine–a spring–suddenly it all made sense! Our eyes connect the space we inhabit all the way into our support at our feet.
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