You probably know how it feels to wake up with a crick in your neck. That happened to me a few mornings ago, a ghost of which remains when I turn my head to the left. I wonder how it’s possible to be in a position that does me harm and yet sleep through it. I could have avoided pain if my body had recognized the strain and awakened me with a complaint. But apparently I was too tired to notice, and remained in a contorted position until the damage was done.
This makes me keenly aware that discomfort helps keep us from harm. Restlessness is a message that we’ve held the same posture for too long. When visited by dissatisfaction and an urge to try something new, we’re goaded into making the changes we need.
These stirrings, even if unwelcome, are the energy of the soul pushing us forward. They are the whispers of God beckoning us toward the life we’re called to live, or at least to a healthier place. But exhaustion can block the message, and fear can convince us to ignore it. They tell us it’s not the right time to make a change, and sometimes they have legitimate reasons.
But we have to sort through the reflexive warnings and determine how we can stretch. And when they’ve outlived their usefulness and we’re fed up with being depleted or afraid, restlessness can overpower even those elemental emotions. The need to grow is as legitimate as the need for shelter and rest.
Though I wasn’t conscious of it, I got myself into the predicament of developing this crick. I have a new appreciation of how the neck operates, how often it’s called into use, how easily and naturally it turns and bends. And now I’m trying to guard its health. I turn my head gently and stretch the neck carefully, even though it hurts. I need to use those muscles, but carefully. Every time I stretch it gets a little easier. I expect that in a few days I’ll be able to enjoy the freedom of movement I took for granted just a few days ago.
Is there something your body is telling you?
This post is going to stick with me like your crick, I think. In a way the crick seems like something out of time, a piece of what we were that points us to what we are called to become.
I think of repetitive motion injury as well, and addiction, and the ways that habit and ritual become encased in flesh and abide uncomfortably (or comfortably) with us. This is all about incarnation.
There’s a lot here. Thank you for it.
Steve Lyon
I love this one, too.
Here’s a poem about listening to the voice inside and stretching:
“Sing with the voice you have,
not the voice you want.”
Phyllis Jenness
So much for dreams
of Odetta.
Au revoir, Edith Piaf.
Welcome, small soprano.
There is no make-over–
just learning where
my own voice
wants to go and
stretching
to give her
the fullest breath,
just freeing
the choked places.
No footlights
but a lamp
lit daily
on the singing way,
a door
for this soul
to pour through.
George Ella Lyon
2/8/10
What a beautiful way to think of stretching. This is lovely, George Ella, and such a gift to find today. Thank you.
I like the idea of “a piece of what we were that points us to what we are called to become.” With the messiness of incarnation, those pieces are often reminders of what we would like to have done better, but if they point the way then it’s a blessing. Thanks for another way to think about these cricks.
Susan,
Thanks for the comment on the interview at http://www.meditationhow.info. I followed it back to your blog and this post. I believe the neck chakra (or throat chakra) covers the subjects of empowerment, inspiration and following your path– voicing your truth. If there has been any hesitance to do this, it may have manifested there as a block. To quote the poem above — “just freeing the choked places”.
I can relate to discomfort as a call to alignment. The body (awareness) when humming in its purity of movement (i.e. health) is hardly even noticeable. There is a natural resistance (feeling, sensation) electromagnetically and energetically to keep Mother Nature’s design on course, through growth, from beginning to end as I see it. It navigates itself. What were you dreaming about, focusing on, and witnessing at the periphery of consciousness when your neck tightened up? I wonder what needs to be said, spoken, heard, listened to?
Hi Susan – yippee, I finally got you in my RSS Reader:-) I agree, our body tells us lots of things. But I resonated with your post on the other levels you spoke about even more – this idea of our dissatisfaction sending us signals, especially. I don’t know if you read the interview i recently did with Zen Priest Karen Maezen Miller, but she talks about this also – about our life crashing around us sometimes being a life-saving event. I can relate to this. I think in our culture we are often so focused on ‘feeling good’ that we only focus on getting out of pain, or masking it, rather than paying attention to it and working through it. That’s what i got out of reading this, anyway. Thanks- Lisa
Lisa, I did read your interview with Karen Maezen Miller and got so much out of it. I look forward to reading her book, Hand Wash Cold. I also liked what she said about writing through what she doesn’t know, and it seems connected to your point about paying attention and working through what’s painful, rather than just doing anything to get rid of it. I appreciate you making such an important point. It’s difficult to explore what’s painful or bewildering, but it’s the way forward.
I’m currently smitten with Leonard Cohen, both his music and poetry, and I’ve been listening to his cds a lot. So I think of his song, “Anthem”: “There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” Yes.
Benjamin, I’ll say again how much I appreciated your thoughtful interview with Lisa. One of the great blessings of the web is the possibility of finding good teachers, even if it’s at something of a distance. The subjects of empowerment, inspiration, and following one’s path are so important in my life right now, it would be a relief if those issues rose up only during the time of experiencing that crick!
The lines you lift up from George Ella’s poem, “just freeing/ the choked places,” resonated strongly with me, too. Though I know only a little about the chakras, I do find wisdom in the lens they offer for looking at our lives. Perhaps in this recent experience the message of the chakra serves as punctuation for an ongoing effort. Thanks for bringing my attention to that.
I don’t know if you are familiar with Barbara Hand Clow. She is an author primarily on Astrology. She has also written some incredible channeled material dealing with Sirius, Pleiades, etc. She has a great book that is more down to earth dealing with how men and women deal differently with life crises, pointing to the heart for men and the throat chakra for women. The book is called– Liquid Light of Sex: Kundalini, Astrology, and the Key Life Transitions. Here is a link (Amazon) Liquid Light of Sex – Barbara Hand Clow.