The way you sit and habitually arrange your muscles controls your breath; the way you breathe directly influences the amount of oxygen getting into your brain. How well your brain is working has a lot to do with the clarity of your thinking, the vividness of your sensory experience, and your ability to communicate clearly to the outside world–in this case, other people. Ergo, your breath (and with it, your particular habits of tension-holding) control the freedom of your writing mechanism. To open and free your writing ability, you must open your breathing.
Allowing The Sternum To Collapse Into Your Chest Restricts The Expansion Of Your Lungs
Try an experiment, for a moment: imagine that your hips are the walls of an oval tunnel running through your whole body. The shoulders are an important juncture in this channel. First, send your mind into your hips and pelvis, and see what the angle of your hip-tunnel is currently like. Some people tilt their hips forward, creating a sharp bend in their lower back, and some people (very few) tilt their hips back, making an unnatural angle in the lower abdomen. What you want is to have the walls of the oval tunnel, your hips, to be perpendicular to the level of the floor.
An Open Channel From Hips To Shoulders Frees The Muscles From Unnecessarily Supporting Your Body
So try for just a moment to un-tilt your pelvic cradle, and to align the oval walls of the tunnel in your hips perpendicular to the floor. When you have done this, you should feel some unfamiliar movement in your lower vertebrae, and perhaps some slight stretching in the outer muscles sheathing your upper thighs.
Next, Align The Ribs
The oval tunnel walls extend in as smooth a line as possible up from the hips through the ribs; send your awareness into the body, aligning the walls of your ribcage with the same perpendicular line you first made in your hips. Next, you are going to slightly lift your shoulders up and back, as if you were placing a final interlocking block on top of a tower. The shoulders also form part of the inner cavity, this oval-shaped tunnel we are building within your body. The outer walls of the shoulder-frame should be arranged just on top, and in line with, the ribs and the hips.
And Finally, Your Head
Your head is very, very heavy, what with all the brains and fluid you carry around up there, so it’s incredibly important that your skull and its accompanying contents are positioned easily over the center of the tunnel. Imagine, if you will, that your head is a ball, and the oval tunnel of your torso is a basket through which the ball must pass without touching against the sides.
You’re Doing It Right When You Feel A Rush Of Internal Heat
Your skeleton is designed to support the whole weight of your body, without assistance from your major muscle groups. Many, if not most of us, have been taught throughout our lives, either by stupid people or by forced constraint to perpetual sitting and slouching, to rely on our muscles to hold ourselves upright. This creates horrible tension through our whole bodies, and crushes much of our intended breath capacity. If you breathe shallowly, and in a cage of hard tension for a very long time, your mind is gradually starved of oxygen, and you stop thinking very clearly.
Breathing Better Now Improves Your Writing Immediately
Opening your body, learning to rely on the skeleton for weight-bearing, and aligning your head over the center of your shoulders, ribs, and hips, will, over time, do much to rectify this deplorable state of affairs. However, if you align your body right now, you will immediately experience a release of tension, and an influx of breath, which will improve your work right this very moment.
Luther ran a finger along the blade of the enchanted sword.
“It is very lucky,” he intoned, his sky-blue eyes piercing through her like butter being sliced open with a hot knife, “that you brought me this weapon. It’s magical, and I think you wouldn’t have had the fortitude to handle it alone.”
“My father gave it to me,” she lied. She was a very good liar, having practiced often over her homework with the abbess of the priory.
“And what was your father?” Luther asked. A half smile passed through his skinny features.
“He got it as a present,” she said.
“Hm,” Luther replied. “I don’t believe you at all.”
“Well, it’s true.”
The sword had a blue hilt, forged of the isolated rock of the gem quarries, and the blade ran out in a strong thrust from the tang. Scraps of black shadow adhered to each part of the old metal, as if ribbons of dark mold had grown up from the depths of the weapon.
She brought it in a hand-woven scabbard of green cloth. Her father had said it was a useless thing, this clasping of fabric, but Halka found it charming, and it had come with the blade. The guard of the old man’s estate was a bland old fool, and she talked her way past him in five minutes.
Halka, runaway and thief, presented the ancient blade to the old man in his study, and asked for a suitable reward. Luther, for that was the old man’s name, drew out the sword and examined the mottled blade.
“Where did you find this?” he asked, turning the blue hilt in the light from the open window.
“My father left it to me when he died,” Halka lied. Luther’s eyes traced slowly down the whole blade; he laid it down and turned his attention to the woven green scabbard.
“Your father was a valley troll?” Luther asked, amusement strong in his voice.
You’re reading Victor Poole. Sun salutation is kicking my butt right now (actually my shoulders, but hey). I would like to illustrate all of my books eventually.