<p>The Balcony View Audio Article- 14/07/2023</p><p>On Relationship with the Body. Part 1: A Mindy Body Battle</p><p><a target="_blank" href="https://balconyview.substack.com/p/on-relationship-with-the-body-1">https://balconyview.substack.com/p/on-relationship-with-the-body-1</a></p><p>We can apply the lens of relationship to everything. Relationships with a partner, child, or dog are often more apparent than our relationships with money, nature, or global warming. Yet looking through the lens of relationship, even when considering objects, concepts, or ideas, can provide a powerful paradigm shift for examining our interdependence. No person is an island, and by looking through this lens, we can appreciate that relationship is a two-way street. We are all in a constant state of emergence, continually shaping and being shaped by the web of relationships within which we exist.</p><p>A few weeks ago, I <a target="_blank" href="https://balconyview.substack.com/p/what-does-it-mean-to-be-in-right-relationship">wrote</a> about the concept of Right Relationship. In this article, I explore the body through the lens of relationship. Inspired by my personal explorations from the past year, which have been amplified since becoming pregnant with twins (which you can read about <a target="_blank" href="https://balconyview.substack.com/p/im-pregnant-with-twins">here</a>), I hope that my inquiry, whilst personal to me, might help you consider your relationship with your body. What does it mean to be in Right Relationship with your body?</p><p><strong>An unhealthy relationship</strong></p><p>I've got a confession to make: for over 15 years, I've been in an abusive relationship with my body. I've criticised it for being the wrong shape, mocked it for being too weak, and found myself frustrated when it was tired, sick, or slow. Yet, on the flip side, when it's been healthy, helped me hit a PB, or just simply supported me through a busy day, I've never thought to appreciate it. My body didn't always meet my high expectations, yet on the occasion when it surpassed my lofty goals, there was little thanks or praise.</p><p>In my mid-teens, my knees started to give way. I'd wake up to find them locked in a particular position. Or I'd have to take the stairs one at a time, which was excruciatingly embarrassing for a 16-year-old desperately trying to fit in. As I later discovered, I have a rare condition called Osteochondritis Dissecans, which occurs when a lack of blood supply causes bone and cartilage to crack and loosen. This led to two big holes (or "craters", as my surgeon described them) forming in my knees. The adolescent condition usually only affects one joint; however, I hit the jackpot and was the first patient at the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital to have a stem cell transplant in both knees, albeit not at the same time. After four surgeries in my early 20s, I found myself on crutches and in a chunky knee brace for the better part of a year. However, what this story doesn't tell you, is how positive this experience was for me. For the first in my life, I was forced to slow down. I could no longer live my life on a treadmill, and as much as I tried to keep up with my old pace, my body had other plans. It had its own recovery timeline, and it demanded to be heard.</p><p>In the weeks following surgery on my left knee, I found myself easing into the slowdown and attuning to my body's subtle signals. And with these new insights, my yoga practice took on a whole new character. No longer was I restricting (or forcing) myself to a specific set of postures; instead, I rolled out my mat and allowed my body to dictate the flow of my practice (often accompanied by loud, upbeat music!) I adored this new-found mind-body connection which continued off the mat and into my life. Until it didn't. I remember feeling so grateful to walk again, only to take it for granted a few days later.</p><p>Six months on, I went through the same process again, this time with my right knee. Same body, same condition, same surgery- so I felt confident I knew what to expect. Yet, it was entirely different. After my left knee surgery, I had been practising yoga balances after 2 days! However, after surgery on my right knee, I was in agony for weeks, and my recovery was much slower. It was another huge lesson. My left knee taught me to listen to my body, whereas my right knee taught me to stay present to its ever-changing needs.</p><p><strong>Meet the body where it is at</strong></p><p>Top-down processing is when the brain draws conclusions based on past previous experiences. For example:</p><p><em>Yuo cna porbalby raed tihs desptie teh spellnig mitskaes.</em></p><p>Our brains make sense of the jumbled letters by utilising a network of stored expectations and prior knowledge. This hugely beneficial mechanism helps us quickly make sense of an environment or experience. If we focused equally on every piece of sensory data, we would likely be overwhelmed and unable to function in the world. That said, this process is so hard-wired in our brains that it can be hard to stay present with our senses and not just jump straight to the story. </p><p>In my work as a coach, I have to constantly remind myself to meet the client in front of me where they are at. Just because I've worked with a similar client before, with similar challenges, it doesn't mean that they are the same. This also applies to the body. Every day we meet a slightly different body. However, many of us assume it's exactly as it was the day before (or the year before that!) Therefore, the expectation of a fit and healthy body is precisely that: an expectation. Not a truth. In many ways, we should view waking up feeling energised and alert as a gift, not a given. To quote Deepak Chopra:</p><p>"The human body is a river of intelligence, energy and information that is constantly renewing itself in every second of its existence."</p><p><strong>We're on each other's team</strong></p><p>Last year, I started to interrogate my relationship with my body, and I was forced to acknowledge our ongoing battle. There was no sense of team or oneness: I was against my body, pushing it around and telling it what to do. If I were to characterise this relationship, I would describe it as a bullying boss, undermining and ignoring the intelligence of a quieter colleague. By looking through the lens of relationship, I started to appreciate that we're on the same team. When my body slows down, it's not simply doing so because it's lazy or wants me to fail. It might be trying to send me a signal to rest and recover. These signals, which I have previously viewed as signs of weakness, now seem so wise. They are channels to a deeper intelligence that I've only just started to welcome in.</p><p><strong>Shake it off</strong></p><p>A practice that really brought this to life for me was breathwork. On a powerful retreat last year, I experienced a version of holotropic breathwork, which involves controlling and quickening breathing patterns to influence mental, emotional, and physical states. The practice was developed by psychiatrists Stanislav and Christina Grof in the 1970s to achieve altered states of consciousness (without using drugs) as a potential therapeutic tool. I've experienced breathwork before and expected a similar cathartic reaction: sometimes, the practice can stir up strong memories and cause big emotional releases. Yet this time round was different. Somehow the breathing took my busy brain offline and replaced it with my body's intelligence, which started to come online throughout the session. I experienced shaking, trembling, and twitching throughout my body, but primarily in my legs. And it wasn't scary or painful. In fact, I felt incredibly calm and sensed that my body knew what to do. After the session, I discovered that shaking is a natural animal response for releasing stress and tension. Watch a gazelle narrowly escape a lion, and you'll see it shakes to reduce stress levels after an anxiety-ridden experience. Humans, however, have forgotten and suppressed this instinct, and thus stress can become stored or stuck in the body.</p><p>Afterward, my brain desperately tried to create meaning out of my powerful physiological experience. One theory I've come up with is that my body was remembering my surgeries. Even though I was under general anaesthetic, my body was still there and present to the stress. Still, this is my brain trying to make sense of something it doesn't yet understand. I don't know what my body was trying to release or where it came from. But I trust my body was trying to bring me back to my baseline. </p><p>I walked away from the experience feeling lighter in body and mind, and 7 months on, I still feel the effects: I haven't been ill once, and despite being pregnant with twins, my body feels strong and, for the most part, energised and well. It could be a coincidence, but it does make me curious. Did the breathwork somehow tap into my body's capacity to heal itself?</p><p><strong>A wise old soul</strong></p><p>Throughout my pregnancy, I've come to respect my body and its intuitive ways of working. I've never read a book or attended a training on how to do pregnancy. Yet, somehow, my amazing body is already programmed for this and knows exactly what to do (even when accommodating, not just for one, but for two growing babies!) It makes me realise how connected and wise our bodies are. Because yes, whilst I am personally going through this pregnancy, the ability to do so has developed out of millions of years of evolution. My body is not secondary to my brain; it’s part of the same intricate system, and its modest yet vitalising powers work behind the scenes to keep me- and now my two little ones- alive and well. And whilst this is science, it fills me with so much awe and wonder and connects me to the miracle of life.</p><p>So before I sign off, I have to thank my body for being there, even when I wasn't.</p> <br/><br/>Get full access to The Balcony View at <a href="https://balconyview.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4">balconyview.substack.com/subscribe</a>
