A Poem for Seated Forward Fold
"Even when I used to barely make it to my toes, I learned to surrender to the space between my thoughts and dreams, my days and nights, to where I was and to where I wanted to be."
When I was nineteen years old I worked two jobs and went to college full-time. By day, I worked at a university library and by night, I was a cocktail waitress at a nightclub called, Graffiti, in Pittsburgh.
One night, at the end of a particularly long night, I was quickly lifting dozens of small black two-seater tables on top of each other so that we could mop the cigarette butts and beer stains from the floor. Suddenly, with one table lifted above my head, I felt a shot of pain from my shoulder to my waist like I had never felt before. I remember shaking and practically throwing the table down. This memory sticks in my head as a turning point in my life. My body was not a machine. I was not a machine. My body had a voice and it was saying, loudly and clearly, Stop. Slow down. Tend to me.
I humbly asked my co-workers for help, which I remember being hard for me and my “I can do it all my myself” mindset. But I have since learned that support is essential. And it starts with supporting myself.
It is from this place that I wrote the poem, Seated Forward Fold, which is now a shape that I move into often to reset my shoulders and back.
I was particularly conscious that touching toes can become a competition and a source of some level of insecurity. I give everyone permission reading this to try seated forward fold and not worry about where you are at today. Just try, just be on the path. Honor yourself for a moment. You are worth it.
Seated Forward Fold
By Corie Feiner
My legs stretched out before me, my arms
held high, I hinge at my hips and lower
my stomach towards my thighs as gently
as the setting sun radiating red, then orange
until the entire terrain of my body
goes dark.
Who would think that the way to create space
is to unite the halves of my body as if some story
has ended and it is time to put the book
away?
Even when I used to barely make it to my toes,
I learned to surrender to the space between
my thoughts and dreams, my days and nights,
to where I was and to where I wanted to be.
I breathe and expand, the freckles and marks
on my back like stars in the night sky,
twinkling with wishes and all of our soon
to be answered prayers.
Sanskrit Name: Paschimottanasana
I hope next time you take this shape, you remember that taking care of yourself and honoring your body can be short, doable, and perhaps… happen right now.
Sample Bodylove Poetry Writing Workshop tomorrow!
There are still 4 spaces left for the free sample of the Bodylove Poetry Workshop for women tomorrow, Sunday, January 28th at 10 am EST.
If you need more information, you can see my previous post here.
