the long way around
With one leap in development,
Another problem area seems to rear its ugly head.
I can’t help but feel ripped off,
That progress can’t just be progress.
End of story.
Now I see,
Won’t ever be easy,
It’ll always be going the long way around.
Negativity knocks repeatedly at my door,
Forcing its way in,
Often too powerful for me to resist it.
And I need a jolt in perspective to regain my focus,
Or I am at risk of being swept away in its tide.
We have Feldenkrais,
For our practitioner always at the ready to slap my pessimism out of me,
In quick sec-synced swoops of reasoning,
I literally have to shake my head,
As if to clear it of its clouding judgement.
Ready to make space for learning,
How we jump the next hurtle,
And why it might be happening.
With Isaac pushing up onto his knees and forearms,
Eager to take off into unknown speeds and territories,
To our practitioner,
His determination always admirable,
His drive always desirable,
– and yet –
It has become clear that in doing so,
He has locked-up.
Chest rigid and straight,
Arms stuck bent at the elbow,
And virtually unable to move within the position.
Let alone progress beyond it.
Unless we teach him he has options.
He needs to curl his chest.
To free his arms,
To allow them to push to straighten,
To realise that his arms and chest,
Head and shoulders,
Can move independently of each other,
Not simply as a whole unit.
And once again to realise he doesn’t need to expend so much effort.
Which translate into spasm.
And so we play to curl.
With chuckles of laughter we pull him up by his legs,
Curling him gently through the back of the neck and chest,
Curling through the diagonal,
Curling into a twist to land at child’s pose.
Being sure to avoid any extension, arching or stiffening.
We curl to flexion,
To get a freedom in his upper body it so adamantly resists.
We curl to get differentiation between body parts,
We curl and we roll.
We curl and we laugh.
We curl my gloom right out of the door.
Progress is always good.