Embodying a little more possibility

Unfurling from winter hibernation both on the yoga mat and off, making real-life (big) decisions and bedtime reading.

Image: Mindy Coe Photography

Humour me here for a minute. From where you are reading this, expand your body. Grow a little taller in your spine, reach the crown of your head up and draw your shoulders down, open your arms w-i-d-e out to the sides and sweep them up, spread your fingers, feel an expanse across your heart space. Unfold. 

What happens? How does your body feel? What does the embodiment of taking up space look like to you?

How would it feel to expand into a little more possibility?

At the library this week, I borrowed an ‘easy read’ - the type of fiction that offers the comfort and escapism of a predictable, too-good-to-be-true plot. It’s the type of book I’d have read in my uni years as a break from the required reading of my English Literature study but, mostly, as I shared the romantic anticipation that these fictional worlds offered. Life beyond the university campus glistened with that same sense of ambition and possibility.

Ironically, my motivation for borrowing this book was to have a little escape from big, ‘grown-up’ decisions, the effects of which, I notice, are showing up in my body - eczema breakouts, a racing heart, a tendency to avoidance. It was funny, then, to be reminded - through reading this ‘chick lit’ - of the younger me and to imagine seeing through those eyes again. A little like finding an old diary or rediscovering an old outfit or catching the scent of a familiar perfume - I was right back there, in my 20-year-old, high-heeled shoes again.

It was like a breath of fresh air.

Life is very different now to undergraduate-me. For a start, then I was in that vaguely-selfish flush of youth with only myself to think about. Me and an open horizon of endless possibility. Now I have a family to consider too, commitments. The 20-year old me wouldn’t yet have understood both the privilege and the responsibility of making choices out of love for others. I’d have felt confined by choices being filtered through financials, practicalities and responsibility, rather than simply my own wants, needs, ambitions.

But what the novel reminded me of was a perspective full of anticipation, of things working out for the best (as I assume it will for the protagonist). It can be easy to get caught in the practicalities and forget to look up at the horizon. It was a nudge to remember to factor in a bit more anticipation alongside the practical.

In yoga, these different energies are seen on a spectrum. For example, the manipura chakra (the ‘lustrous gem’), shines brightly when it’s in balance with a strong sense of self and self-worth, and personal power. In excess it can be rigid, unwavering, a little overly ambitious, too much ‘self’ (hello 20-something). Deficient, it is passive, lacking boundaries, the classic people-pleaser. It’s represented by the element of fire and located above the navel - manipura is the ‘fire in your belly’.

How’s the fire in your belly burning? Brightly? Is it bringing warmth and sparks of energy, a sense of determination? Or is it ebbing, needing to be tended to, in need or more fuel, more oxygen? This inner fire offers the power of transformation. 

My light bedtime reading pricked my consciousness. I’ve let the fire in my belly dwindle a little. The grown up ‘I shoulds’ have overshadowed the youthful ‘I coulds’. It’s encouraging me to try to invite in a little more of that sense of possibility, of anticipating the best outcome. Of feeling into an expansive energy alongside the practical. Finding some balance between the two.

I may be getting my hopes up a little too soon but we’re surely into spring any day aren’t we? A little reminder of that feeling of possibility and transformation. Shifting out of hibernation and cocooning, of staying small, into growth, expansion and newness.

What could that look like for you - to play a little bigger, to anticipate a little more? If nothing else, notice again how it feels in your body to take up a little more space, to unfold and expand. 

As a friend said to me lately. “what if everything is unfolding perfectly?” 

I’m curious - what might playing a little bigger look like for you? Is there some thing or some way of being that you’re drawn to expand a little? I always love to hear your reflections.