open
My friends gathered for a stick and poke night and a cowboy named Wolfgang tattooed tiny hands on my inner thighs.
Why hands? Well,
a few years ago, my friend Carly and I started to notice that in hard times, we tended to subconsciously hunch over a bit and protect ourselves, to tense up and grit our teeth and BEAR DOWN in order to get through the tough moments. “But what if we opened up to what is right here/right now, the things we know to be true?” we began to ask ourselves. “What if we softened in the face of fear?”
That turned into us opening our bodies any way we could — spreading our hands wide, palms up, and slapping them on our thighs, taking a big breath and softening our tummies, stretching our legs and toes out wide, expanding and exposing and making space. Relaxing our physical selves and in turn, relaxing our other selves.
This has become one of the most valuable habits I have ever adopted.
Often when I’m in a group of people, fielding surprise attacks from my vigilant anxiety (should I check in with that person I was talking to twenty minutes ago to see if that face I made was misinterpreted? What if my need for reassurance annoys them?),
or when I’m on a call with one of my writing clients and I get excited and then realize I might have interrupted them one time too many times (I’m an interruptive guy),
or when I worry that I’ll get a migraine and my entire day will be ruined,
you’ll often see me take a biiig breath and — as covertly as I can — rest my open palms on my thighs, letting my shoulders drop, softening my tensed up parts.
Opening up to the present, even when I feel pain or sorrow, or when someone I love dearly has discomfort. I don’t like it, but I’m gonna try to take it all in anyway. Carly and I would randomly text each other
*OPEN*
throughout the day as a reminder to let the tension slide away,
melt —
like butter on a hot oven door. AHhHhhh. Soon, other friends caught on:
It has become my go-to for grounding myself. Sometimes I do it multiple times a day. It’s also kind of funny when my friends remind me to spread ‘em in response to worry. So I took the opportunity to get this wisdom inked on my skin. Every time I see these little guys, I feel happy, like my body is smiling at me, like we have an inside joke.
In the week since, multiple friends have told me very excitedly that now I can clap my (small) hands! I informed them that I have no interest in going around town slapping my thighs together. Please, I’m not like that. But today, after I finished my workout, I gave myself a high five with my big hands…and then my small ones.
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Some behind the scenes:
